By Sister Judy Carle
As we near the time of Passion, the haunting chant, “Were you there when they crucified my Lord” has been humming its way in my heart. Were you there…when they stripped Jesus of his garments? How were you present to that moment? How did you tend to that scene of utter emptiness?
Here is the ONE with whom the father was well pleased (both at the River Jordan and on the Mount of Transfiguration), the one who calmed the sea and fed 5000, the one who changed water into wine and cured the bent woman, the one who drove away the devil “and the angels came and attended him.” And now a crowd on the road – followers who have been lured into a belief that could profoundly change them – along with those who have sought his condemnation – look upon Jesus who is beaten, crowned with thorns and stripped. Jesus stands alone exposed to the gaze and scoffing multitude. What is contained in that mutual gaze as Jesus looks at the crowd before him?
In the style of Ignatian prayer, let us place ourselves within this scene. We pause at the tenth station: Jesus is stripped of his garments. We reflect slowly. What has brought me here? What am I seeing? What am I hearing? How am I a part of this crowd? Am I simply a bystander or am I there as a follower? What feelings are welling up within me? Am I afraid? Am I perhaps chilled to the bone or overheated with anxiety? What do I want to communicate to Jesus? Perhaps, I reflect on times in my life in which I have felt stripped of my false self, my human dignity, my good reputation, my faith and hope, my attachments to appearances. And perhaps I begin to realize that I am not alone in my grief. Am I aware of the pain that his mother Mary, or his fractured disciples might be feeling at the moment?
A simple experience of contemplation is often explained in the words, “I look at him and he looks at me.” What is Jesus saying to me through his gaze? Do I feel his eyes of pathos upon me? Is this not a profound communication of his love even unto death? And oh, yes, what has he been teaching these past few years? “Unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains a single grain, but if it dies it bears much fruit.”
At times, attention can be the one thing necessary. How do we enter into that experience of complete devastation, of feeling that there is nothing left? Whether it be a profound loss, a dream deferred, or a dark night of the senses, we are invited into a far deeper wound that is of the soul. We are stripped. The feeling of abandonment leaves us grasping for the loving blessing we once knew. And we are not alone. As we identify with the naked Jesus, we pray, “Teach me to see you in those who suffer. Clothe me with compassion and understanding.”
My heart is beating as I hear again the plea of Jesus in the Taize chant, “Watch with me, be here with me. Watch and pray, watch and pray.”