VOICE OF THY HOLY CROSS (The spoken words)

VOICE OF THY HOLY CROSS 

( The spoken words )

The Lord was lowered from my Cross into the arms of His Blessed Mother. I am left standing— stunned in all that has happened. With the greatest of sorrow I reflect upon this grave injustice. 

Lord, this painful, horrible road You and I traveled, has ended here on Calvary. In this place of horrific surroundings, You were forced to carry me on this journey of endurance, suffering and agony. The heavy weight of me on Your body, has torn Your flesh: the bones of Your shoulder raw against my wood. We fell down into the dirt. Your enemies beat You and whipped You. With each step, droplets of Your Precious Blood fell from Your inflicted body. We fell down a second time, then a third. Each breath of inhaling torment has brought us closer to the Crucifixion. 

On this mountain of Calvary, the ones who hated You—to inflict more pain—took Your Arms and stretched them to the very ends of my limbs, snapping Your bones; and with huge spikes nailed Your Hands and Feet to me. I felt Your pain of agony—not in my wood—but from Your very Heart. You were affixed to me in hatred, but I held You with the greatest of love, holding onto all Your parts, all Your suffering. All I could do, was to hold You upward to Your Father. My hands held Your Hands. My feet embraced Your Feet. For further humiliation, a sign of mockery was placed upon my Cross, and with a spike mounted onto my forehead. 

In this extension of suffering, You kept whispering: “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.” The thorns from Your crown, pierced my wood, my face, my heart. In Your agony, I felt Your trembling, Your fear—waiting, waiting for all of it to end. I could not see Your eyes, but I felt them burning into my wood. 

I could feel Your Spirit depart from You; Your limp body rested upon me. I held you; I just held You, as Your Compassion melted into my wood. The mist of sorrow flowed from me—tears of my Cross intermixed with Your Tears and Precious Blood. 

We were cast in an embrace together, frozen in time—Your life extinguished and carried away. And when the lance was thrust into Your side, it pierced the Blood and Water of Your Mercy: pouring out, immersing all mankind forevermore. In this tragic time of bonded togetherness, I know, I know what love, really is. 

I remain standing, a bystander, a shadow in this misery; alone, I am devastated. The splinters of my wood embrace pieces of Your Flesh. The Blood and Suffering remain on me, splattered all about the face of my Cross. I hold the mark of Your Body on my limbs. I would not be of any significance if I did not know You—for the grains of my wood hold the Stigmata of Your nail marks, Your suffering, Your Passion. Your Spirit is infused into my Cross: for I am not just a piece of wood or tree, but I am Thy Holy Cross—the “wooden bridge to Heaven.” 

As a reminder of our Lord’s Love and Sacrifice, there will be many replicas of me: a Cross with the same presence of Spirit. Embrace it with passion—with all your heart—for our Lord did the very same. And when you bless yourself with the Sign Of The Cross, know in your heart and soul the significance of this blessing. With great reverence, you are embracing the pain, the suffering and sacrifice of Our Lord, Jesus Christ. Yet with some, this blessing is applied with the wave of the hand, quickly and thoughtless—like chasing flies away. Is this how you present yourself to the Lord, as an empty gesture? Think of this as a baton for the flow of the Spirit—reverent, soft and gentle—for this is the punctuation mark of your Faith. 

With love, with compassion, with tears of your heart: to apply a blessing with less than this, is like an instrument without notes to make the music of a song, a violin without the bow—empty of the potential for God’s grace and presence. 

When you bless yourself, this is a reunion of your heart and soul uplifting substance of fragrance to Our Lord Jesus Christ on His Holy Cross.

IN THE NAME OF THE FATHER, 

AND OF THE SON, 

AND OF THE HOLY SPIRIT. 

AMEN. 

Robert J.Varrick 

rjvarrick@gmail.com