Tuesday of Holy Week
Robert picked us up for church this morning, but he was running late, so there was no time to read the meditation ahead of Mass like we usually do. We just barely made it into the front pew as the bells were ringing. Mini nestled down beside Sister Mary Claire, and I tried to settle my thoughts too.
Father Leroy’s homily was all about Jesus being mocked on the cross—how even while suffering such pain and shame, He still prayed, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” Sister had shown me last night that this was exactly what the meditation was about today, and hearing Father say it from the pulpit made it feel like Jesus really wanted us to think about it.
When Mass was over, Robert dropped us at the mailbox. We lingered a bit, still talking about the homily. I asked Sister if we might’ve mocked Jesus too, if we were there. She didn’t say anything right away, just shook her head slowly and whispered, “We do it still, Kathy… every time we choose pride over love.”
For lunch, we had grilled cheese sandwiches and applesauce. Just simple food, but warm.
Later in the afternoon, I brought Sister’s meditation book down to the cave. Mini came along, as always. I read about how Jesus’ Sacred Heart was pierced not just by nails and thorns, but by cruel words, by ridicule, by people who should’ve known better. It said His Heart was satiated with opprobrium. I had to look that up—Sister told me it meant shame and disgrace.
I must’ve cried a little without realizing it, and then I fell asleep, still holding the book. Mini curled at the foot of the bed. When I woke up, the lantern was almost out and the chill had crept into the cave. I hurried back up the path with the meditation still in my heart—and the image of Jesus looking down from the cross, eyes full of love, not anger.
Dear Jesus,
You hung on the cross for love of us,
and even while they mocked You,
You prayed for their forgiveness.
Help me to remember that when I feel hurt or misunderstood.
Teach me to be quiet when I am tempted to speak in pride,
and to be merciful when I want to turn away.
Let me be like You, who loved even the unloving.
I want to be small and humble and full of forgiveness.
Amen.
Love, Kathy
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