Ash Wednesday Mediations

The Way of Pain

by Wendell Berry, 1980

For parents, the only way

is hard. We who give life

give pain. There is no help.

Yet we who give pain

give love; by pain we learn

the extremity of love.

I read of Abraham's sacrifice

the Voice required of him,

so that he led to the altar

and the knife his only son.

The beloved life was spared

that time, but not the pain.

It was the pain that was required.

I read of Christ crucified,

the only begotten Son

sacrificed to flesh and time

and all our woe. He died

and rose, but who does not tremble

for his pain, his loneliness,

and the darkness of the sixth hour?

Unless we grieve like Mary

at His grave, giving Him up

as lost, no Easter morning comes.

And then I slept, and dreamed

the life of my only son

was required of me, and I

must bring him to the edge

of pain, not knowing why.

I woke, and yet that pain

was true. It brought his life

to the full in me. I bore him

suffering, with love like the sun,

too bright, unsparing, whole.

Abba Joseph related that Abba Isaac said, ‘I was sitting with Abba Poemen one day and I saw him in ecstasy and as I was on terms of great freedom of speech with him, I prostrated myself before him and begged him, saying, “Tell me where you were.” He was forced to answer and he said, “My thought was with St Mary, the Mother of God, as she wept by the cross of the Saviour. I wish I could always weep like that.” (The Sayings of the Desert Fathers, Abba Poemen 144)

 An excerpt from “The Crucifixion”

By James Weldon Johnson, 1927

…Up Golgotha's rugged road

I see my Jesus go.

I see him sink beneath the load,

I see my drooping Jesus sink.

And then they laid hold on Simon,

Black Simon, yes, black Simon;

They put the cross on Simon,

And Simon bore the cross.

On Calvary, on Calvary,

They crucified my Jesus.

They nailed him to the cruel tree,

And the hammer!

The hammer!

The hammer!

Rang through Jerusalem's streets.

The hammer!

The hammer!

The hammer!

Rang through Jerusalem's streets.

Jesus, my lamb-like Jesus,

Shivering as the nails go through his hands;

Jesus, my lamb-like Jesus,

Shivering as the nails go through his feet.

Jesus, my darling Jesus,

Groaning as the Roman spear plunged in his side;

Jesus, my darling Jesus,

Groaning as the blood came spurting from his wound.

Oh, look how they done my Jesus.

Mary,

Weeping Mary,

Sees her poor little Jesus on the cross.

Mary,

Weeping Mary,

Sees her sweet, baby Jesus on the cruel cross,

Hanging between two thieves.

And Jesus, my lonesome Jesus,

Called out once more to his Father,

Saying:

My God,

My God,

Why hast thou forsaken me?

And he drooped his head and died.

And the veil of the temple was split in two,

The midday sun refused to shine,

The thunder rumbled and the lightning wrote

An unknown language in the sky.

What a day!  Lord, what a day!

When my blessed Jesus died.

Oh, I tremble, yes, I tremble,

It causes me to tremble, tremble,

When I think how Jesus died;

Died on the steps of Calvary,

How Jesus died for sinners,

Sinners like you and me.