Passion of Jesus
Jesus dies
This awesome darkness that envelops the creation in the extreme limit of the death of Jesus, is nothing but a symbol of another extreme radicalism eclipse looming within the consciousness of God made man trying Son in himself, to free choice of 'extreme love, which means the total loss of the Father.
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Christs's Passion, a cry of love
In our time the laic prophet of God's death has been Nietzche. Dramatic and wonderful pages those in Merry Science where he announces God's death! He has the courage of asserting that men killed Him by totally denying Him. We have made ourselves responsible for the greatest disaster for mankind. Without God what will mankind do? We will have to expect the horrors of an immense tragedy, which will fall down on us. Unfortunately it happened just like this. Nietzsche dies at the beginning of the century, which saw the horrors of two world wars, and we can still see the earth covered in blood owing to absurd and awful conflicts.
However that famous philosopher gave a wrong solution: to the emptiness left by God's death he opposed the efforts of a superior man who could dare the impossible, having inside himself the divine fire of willingness. A proposal of élite, which turned out absurd at the end even for the philosopher himself, struck by madness. And yet it continues to catch our minds deceived by our civilisation. There is only one answer, the one Nietzsche didn't want to understand: only the death of Jesus on the cross is the true death of God who resurrected to a new life after three days. The resurrection of the man without God comes from this deepness of death. All those who look at Jesus on the cross will be rescued from their sins, from the death of God in their heart: God dead in man's heart will resurrect in the very moment of the prayer and the forgiveness.
The procession with the sentenced man reaches the place reserved for executions, by now I am the man of sorrow. Here is the top of the mountain where I'll be sacrificed. The cross laid on the ground is waiting for me. Taken off my clothes, the sores reopened adding up pain to pain. I feel like one drop in the sea at the mercy of the waves, dispersed in the ocean of the suffering. They dragged me on to the cross; they transfixed my hands and feet. What it is, to feel his own flesh torn, it's impossible to say! Through the nerves pain reached my head in a terrible and ravaging way, every fibre in my body seemed to be destroyed: the persecutors were pitiless against my body but I wasn't a lifeless object. Now, here I am, nailed on to the wood.
The surface is rough, hard and there is pain everywhere. Sores, wounds and thorns in my head: the tide of sufferings is getting higher and higher. Now the cross is raised and put into the prepared hole. All my body is hanging from the nails and my crushed chest makes breathing difficult. My prosecutors are there, like hungry wolves; they smell the blood of the wounded beast. Not yet satisfied, they show so great a hatred as to feel happy in seeing me tortured and nailed like this, apparently defenceless. For their scorn: Save yourself (Mc 15, 29-31) I could destroy them or do any sort of miracle. I climbed the cross accepting to be sacrificed to rescue everybody.
Now a slow agony begins. Time seems never to pass my body struggles against a terrible suffering, well beyond human endurance. Every minute compensates for all past, present and future iniquities. On me there was this immense weight. Every part of my body, none excepted, was tortured to pay for all the sins; the torture included even my spirit. The Father's terrible rage for a wicked mankind was now falling down on his beloved Son, yes I paid for your sins on my flesh. Left completely alone, I could see from above, strictness and rage, and from the bottom, scorn and mockery and inside me nothing but pain. What a pity seeing my Mother, the apostle and the pious women at my feet! She was suffering and offering with me generously. The terrible suffering disintegrated all my internal organs and went down into her mind and heart, her heart joined mine. What love tied her to martyrdom seeing her beloved son dying in such a terrible suffering! Her heart shouted: What has he done to you? He is so good, innocent and pitiful.
What have you done to him! In that confusion of hatred I presented my prosecutors and persecutors with one more loving gift. Father, forgive them, they don't know what they are doing!.
(Lc 23,33-34).
It got dark, like the darkness of evil, dark in the torturing pain like the widening of time and after nearly three hours of agony I gave my soul to the Father.
Good Father, loving Father, accept my sacrifice and the spilt blood together with these creatures. I have given everything for them, wash their sins away and clean their clothes with my blood so that they become as bright as light to be worth of your love.
Portion from the book: "I will open a way in the desert"..
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