82. Second Friday of Lent

Meditations no. 128 (unofficial computer-aided translation)

Our personal responsibility for Christ’s Passion.

Day by day, the season of Lent sets before us the mystery of the Son of God’s self-surrender for mankind. In order to help us penetrate the folly of divine love, the Liturgy calls to our attention a number of people who, like Joseph from the Old Testament, prefigure Christ the Redeemer.

Scripture tells how Joseph went to find his brothers at the request of his father Jacob. His was a mission of peace, to bring them food and see if they and their flocks were well. Eventually, after journeying through the Hebron valley and the land of Sichem, he found them at Dothan. But his brothers did not react as expected. They saw him afar off, and before he came near to them, they conspired against him to kill him. They said to one another, “Here comes this dreamer. Come now, let us kill him and throw him into one of the pits; then we shall say that a wild beast has devoured him.”

Christ the Lord also came to look for his brothers, the whole of mankind. He came from the eternal Father and brought food with him. But his people did not want to have anything to do with him. They took him for a dreamer, a madman, possessed by the devil. He came to his own home, and his own people received him not. They went further still. Because their hard hearts were full of hatred and ingratitude, they said, “This is the heir; come, let us kill him and have his inheritance.”

Even though we are sorry for it, we are not innocent of Christ’s Death. The sins of all men - including our own - were what nailed him to the Cross. I remember something which happened many years ago, our Father said on one occasion. I was giving a retreat, and in one of the meditations I talked about our Lord’s Passion. I was emphasizing that it was not only original sin that caused the great sufferings of our Lord, but our personal sins as well: my failings and those of the people listening to me. I was moved, and so were they. But when I finished, one of those people who didn’t even know the catechism came to me and said: “Why suffer so much, and why make others suffer over Christ’s Passion? Why talk so much about our sins being the cause of the sufferings of Christ? What for, if God cannot suffer?”

I put myself at his level of “theology”, tried to be as self-effacing as I could, smiled, and told him to recall what he had studied in the catechism: that all things are present to God; that for him there is no past or future. And therefore Christ, while respecting our freedom, knew our betrayals during his Passion and Crucifixion. He suffered for that man’s betrayals and mine, and for those of all men yet to come on earth.

Our sins made our Lord’s Passion more painful and harder to bear. We ought to be fully aware of this truth and feel personally responsible for the events that happened two thousand years ago. We cannot hide in the crowd. Instead we have to make reparation and atonement: love is repaid with love.

God has made us his children in spite of our personal weaknesses.

Following the biblical story of Joseph, who prefigured our Redeemer, we witness the affection he felt for his family: for Benjamin, the youngest, and for all his brothers. Those who had earlier betrayed him, threw themselves at his feet, repentant and ashamed, when they recognized him in Egypt in the house of Pharaoh. Filled with love, he burst into tears, kissed them, and provided for their needs. His love was so strong and expressive that Pharaoh was deeply moved and said: “’Take your father and your households and come to me, and I will give you the best of the land of Egypt, and you shall eat the fat of the land.”

Once again we see God’s unfathomable mercy. Our Father God, when we come to him repentant, draws, from our wretchedness, treasure; from our weakness, strength. What then will he prepare for us, if we don’t forsake him, if we go to him daily, if we talk lovingly to him and confirm our love with deeds, if we go to him for everything, trusting in his almighty power and mercy? Our Lord’s coming to earth, and his sufferings, are in themselves a sign of his infinite love. How much more love he shows by taking us as his adopted children, and making us share in his divine life, as heirs to his glory! See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are. He adopted us as his children - we who were only his servants. He bestows favour upon favour, love upon love.

These are calls which spring forth lovingly from the mouth of God, inviting us to return at once, quickly, like children, even if the weight of our repeated rebelliousness overwhelms us. Awareness that God is our Father brings joy to our conversion: it tells us that we are returning to our Father’s house.

This divine filiation is the basis of the spirit of Opus Dei. All men are children of God. But a child can look upon his father in many ways. We must try to be children who realize that the Lord, by loving us as his children, has taken us into his house, in the middle of the world, to be members of his family, so that what is his is ours, and what is ours is his, and to develop that familiarity and confidence which prompts us to ask him, like children, for the moon!

God’s grace will never be lacking. Jesus has redeemed us and made us children of God. In calling us to the Work he wants each of us to follow him more closely and to enjoy a more intimate friendship with him. St John reminds us: Beloved, if God so loved us… , how much must we love him in return? How should we react? Relishing this reality, which sustains us constantly, our Father suggested an active response. When God runs towards us, we cannot keep silent, but with St Paul we exclaim: Abba, Pater! Father, my Father! For, though he is the creator of the universe, he doesn’t mind our not using high-sounding titles, nor worry about our not acknowledging his greatness. He wants us to call him Father; he wants us to savour that word, our souls filling with joy.

Grateful souls respond generously to God’s love.

God cares for us as the householder does for his vineyard. This is the parable in today’s Gospel. There was a householder who planted a vineyard and set a hedge around it, and dug a wine press in it, and built a tower.

We are in Opus Dei, a vineyard planted by Christ within the great field of his Church. And the tasks which have to be carried out in the vineyard are plentiful: digging, pruning, tending the grapevine, protecting it from pests, harvesting the grapes, and pressing them in the wine press. There are all sorts of tasks to be done before wine can be obtained.

Our Father applied this parable to us in the following way: My child, you cannot walk away from this vine where our Lord has placed you, you cannot leave your place empty; you have to be in the vineyard, in the field, working in the wine press, resting in the tower that is within the vineyard. If you were to leave, it would be like telling Christ: Hey, my time is for myself, not for you. I’m not going to work in your vineyard any more.

It is only fair that our Lord should expect a lot of fruit from us, since he has given us so much. This is precisely where the danger lies for us: in not bearing the fruit that we should, in not repaying God for what he has done for us, in not being generous here and now, in the measure that God wants; in not realizing the evil that we would have committed if he, Jesus, had not strengthened us with the light of his most loving glance. As we meditate on this, we immediately feel the need to make reparation. “What I owe to God as a Christian! My failure to respond to God’s grace, in the face of that debt, has made me weep with sorrow, with Love-sorrow. Mea culpa, through my fault!” It is good that you acknowledge your debts, but don’t forget how they are paid: with tears… and with deeds.

Our Lord expects specific, sincere deeds of penance, and the best penance is to do what Jesus Christ is asking of us at every moment. Our Father reiterated the specific way to channel our penance and to make abundant atonement. He warned us against the temptation of carrying out spectacular penances, and of only valuing what is out of the ordinary. It is true that great penances may prove to be very good and holy, and even necessary, when our Lord leads you by that road, always assuming that they have been approved by the person who directs your soul. But I warn you that great penances are also compatible with great falls, which are brought about by pride. On the other hand, if you continually wish to please God in the little battles that go on inside you - a smile, for example, when you don’t feel like smiling; and I assure you that a smile is sometimes more difficult than an hour’s worth of cilice - then there is little room left for pride, or for the ridiculous notion of thinking we are great heroes. Instead, we will see ourselves as a little child, who is hardly able to offer even the merest trifles to his father, but who then sees them received most joyfully. This is what our Lord awaits from us over and over again: he wants us to take advantage of all the different moments of the day. That is how you ought to practise the spirit of penance: looking towards God and behaving like a son, like a little child who shows his father how much he loves him by giving up the few treasures he has: a spool of thread, a tin soldier with no head, a bottle top… Their value is slight, yet he finds it hard to make up his mind. But in the end love wins, and he happily hands them over.

Our Blessed Lady helps us to be more generous in our effort to make reparation, which improves our self-giving.