Since becoming a convert, I have always
had a devotion to the Blessed Mother. But it was while helping
a priest friend establish a prayer group in a small Spanish
community that I came to know her as "Our Lady Of
Guadalupe". I was deeply touched when I saw the simple
devotion of the Spanish people for her and how gently she loved them
in return. From that point on, Our Lady of Guadalupe became my
Spiritual Mother and my valued friend.
So as I had done so many times before
when I felt the need to grow closer to God; I called upon Our
Lady of Guadalupe for help. My prayer was a very simple one of,
"Mother, please help me to know your Son better". And
then I went on with the business at hand not really thinking any
more about it until two weeks later.
I was in my prayer time when I sensed
I was to sing 'For Those Tears I Died'; a hymn that had been
the theme song for a Cursillo I had attended some years earlier. As
I finished the hymn, a quiet peace came over me and a mental image
began to appear.
In the image I saw a distant view of
Jesus nailed to the cross. I seemed to be about fifty yards
away but I could clearly hear the noise and din of the crowd. It
was heartbreaking to hear how the crowd was laughing and jeering at
Jesus. The mocking tones were that of evil and they made me at
first angry and then saddened. I kept thinking how can you
people be so cruel; don't you know who He is? Don't you
know what He is doing, just for you?
As I was thinking those thoughts, I
continued walking toward the cross until I was about ten feet away. It
was then that I stopped as if waiting for something or some sign of
what I was to do next. As I stood there I could see the guards
taking Jesus from the cross and lowering Him to the ground beneath
it. Then I heard myself say, "Oh, He is already
dead". I was filled with a deep sense of loss and knelt to
the ground.
As I continued to kneel, I again had
the sense that I was waiting to be told what I was to do. And
just at that moment I looked up again toward the body of Jesus and
saw Mary, His Mother, move up from the edge of the crowd and kneel
beside His body. It was a deeply moving scene of a Mother's
love for her Child as she put her arms around His lifeless body and
drew Him in close to her. She rocked Him back and forth in her
arms and pulled her shawl over His exposed and badly beaten body. She
comforted Him as I imagined she had so many times when he was a
child, brushing the hair from His face and gently patting His
wounds.
It was then that the scene grew
quiet. The crowds had nearly all disbursed, now that it was
evident that Jesus was dead. And only a handful of people
remained to guard His body and be there as a comfort to His Mother.
It was in this peaceful stillness
that I saw Mary motion to someone to come toward her. I looked
behind me to see who she was motioning to but there was no one
behind me. Then she motioned again only this time it was as if
my eyes met hers and I knew she was motioning for me. With
timid steps I moved a little closer until I was within two feet of
Jesus' lifeless body cradled there in his Mother's arms.
Now I could see all of the physical
devastation Jesus had endured. It seemed as if there was not a
spot on His body that had been left untouched by cruelty. It
was so horrible I had to turn away for a minute. But even as I
felt the need to turn away, my eyes would immediately be drawn back
and my heart would break at the sight and at the thought of what
suffering He had endured.
Without saying a word, Mary stretched
out her hand motioning me to sit down beside the feet of Jesus. What
I sensed within me at that moment was the stunned realization of
what a privilege it was to even be invited to draw this close,
coupled with a deep sense of unworthiness. I looked at Mary
again and it must have been that she sensed my feelings. And
again she nodded her assent and pointed to where I was to sit down
near His feet.
I sat there for what seemed like an
endless time staring at the feet of Jesus, not knowing what else to
do and too overcome with what I was seeing to do anything more. His
feet were a shredded mass of flesh. In some places even the
outline of a foot seemed to have been obliterated.. The wounds
made by the spikes used to nail Him to the cross had left large
gaping, jagged tears. I could see how each movement to steady
Himself on the cross, in order to take a breath, had torn away His
flesh. I felt an overwhelming sense of awe that Jesus had been
so willing to suffer such pure agony for me, for all of us, and my
heart seemed to break in pieces.
For a moment I took my eyes from Jesus'
feet to steal a look at Mary, His Mother, and I wondered how could
she bare to see her Beloved Son like this. My heart went out to
her as never before as I realized she too was paying a very high
price for the love of mankind. And I remembered the words of
scripture, "that her heart too would be pierced that the souls
of many might be laid bare". (Lk2:35) As if Mary had heard
me quoting that scripture passage to myself, she turned to look at
me. Our eyes met for only an instant but in that instant I saw
in her eyes a depth of love I had never imagined possible. I
realized what I was seeing was not only a Mother's love for me but
for all of her children, everywhere. As our eyes met it was as
if I could read her thought and I knew she was telling me I was
being given the privilege of helping her comfort the body of her
Son. I hesitantly reached out my hand to touch one of Jesus'
feet and as I did, she gave me a very gentle smile of acceptance and
nodded that it was all right.
I laid my hands very gently on each
of Jesus' feet and remained that way for some time, just sitting
there touching His feet. Then, I became aware of how cold were
His feet. All the life had already drained from Him. I
looked again at Mary, needing some reassurance that it was still all
right for me to touch Him and again came her smile of acceptance. It
was her smile, always that smile of acceptance, that gave me the
courage to pour out my love to Jesus as I began to caress His feet. Like
Mary, I patted His wounds and tried to brush away some of the dried
blood; hoping in my heart that I could relieve just a little of
the pain He had suffered. As I did I could feel rising within
my own Spirit, His desire to relieve the suffering of the world. I
sensed in that brief moment what trememdous love Jesus feels for
each of us; and how willing He is to lay down His life for us, no
matter how brutally painful His suffering.
Again I looked at Mary, and it was in
that moment I remembered my prayer of asking her to help me to know
her Son better. Through the things I had seen and heard in
image, and from her ever accepting smile, Mary had answered my
prayer. She had shown me, in a very memorable way, the Mercy of
God; and the great value He places in each of us.
With that truth planted deeply within
my Spirit, the image came to a close but the memory of it has
remained clear and constant. And it has enabled me many times
to say, with the trust of Mary, "be it done to me according to
Your Word". (Lk 1:38)
