hope on

Station 13: Jesus is taken down from the cross and laid in the arms of His Mother

“When it was already evening, since it was the day of preparation, the day before the sabbath, Joseph of Arimathea, a distinguished member of the council, who was himself awaiting the kingdom of God, came and courageously went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. Pilate was amazed that he was already dead. He summoned the centurion and asked him if Jesus had already died. And when he learned of it from the centurion, he gave the body to Joseph” Mark 15:42-45

Station 14: Jesus is placed in the tomb

“After he had taken the body down, he wrapped it in a linen cloth and laid him in a rock-hewn tomb in which no one had yet been buried. It was the day of preparation, and the sabbath was about to begin.  The women who had come from Galilee with him followed behind, and when they had seen the tomb and the way in which his body was laid in it, they returned and prepared spices and perfumed oils. Then they rested on the sabbath according to the commandment” Luke 23: 53-56

Beneath the cross the Mother kept

Bleak vigil under darkened skies.

Upon the cross her Son hung nailed, 

Stabbed through by crowds of hostile eyes.

"And your own soul a sword shall pierce,"

The old man in the Temple said, 

The Spirit's sword, the word of God-

God's word be done, was all she said.

A soldier came and thrust Him through; 

The Blood and water proved Him dead.

They laid His body in her arms-

God's word be done, was all she said.

At vigil's end, the Crucified 

Arose from death her glorious Lord.

O Father, Son, and Spirit, God,

We praise and magnify your Word. 

I have meditated on these 2 stations of the cross many times, not only in the context of meditating on the Passion of our Lord, but also in my meditations of the Sorrows of the Blessed Mother.  These last 2 stations are also the last 2 sorrows of Mary.  Michelangelo’s Pieta is my favorite work of art without a doubt.  Jesus’ suffering was finally at an end, but Mary’s was not.  She held the precious Body of Christ in her arms once again, but this time He was limp and lifeless.  How could she help but recall cradling her little baby boy in her arms in that moment at the foot of the cross?  Remembering the joy of watching her Son move and breathe and laugh and sleep in her arms must have added to the unfathomable heartbreak known only by a mother who loves her Son with her whole heart, mind, soul and strength.  I can only imagine how the Heavenly Father  must have viewed this scene from eternity.  His two most Beloved, obedient servants, both at the end of their strength, in silence awaiting His Holy Will to continue to prove Faithful and trustworthy.  It is at this station, and this sorrow of Mary, that I ask to be like Mary.  To imitate her in faithfulness and obedience and trust in the Will of God in the midst of every cross of my own life.  To receive Jesus in my life in the Eucharist with total humility as she first did at the Incarnation, and again at the Foot of the Cross.  To hold Him with as much tenderness, gratitude, humility, and abandonment to the Father as she.  

And, at the tomb, as she watched the Light of the World enter into a dark cave, to have the hope in the Resurrection, in the Divine Will of the Father, that Mary had in the darkest moment of all time in the history of humanity.  If anyone ever had a reason to want to despair, it was Mary at the tomb, for she saw He Who is Love, Beauty, Truth, and Hope itself, go away from her, lifeless, into a dark hole.  But, she was Mary, Full of Grace.  And the Lord was still with her.  And she was blessed among women, for her light of faith and hope never went out.  She was still being the moon and reflecting the light of the Son in the dark night of the tomb.  Let us remain faithful with Mary, as we await the coming of our Hope, our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.  Who was, Who is, and Who is to come.  

Have a most blessed Holy Saturday.  Our wait is almost over!  Hope on, fellow sojourners!

sometimes it causes me to tremble

Station 12: Jesus dies on the cross


We adore You, O Christ, and we bless You, because by Your Holy Cross, You have redeemed the world.  

“From noon onward, darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon. And about three o’clock Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?”* which means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Some of the bystanders who heard it said, “This one is calling for Elijah.” Immediately one of them ran to get a sponge; he soaked it in wine, and putting it on a reed, gave it to him to drink. But the rest said, “Wait, let us see if Elijah comes to save him.” But Jesus cried out again in a loud voice, and gave up his spirit.  And behold, the veil of the sanctuary was torn in two from top to bottom. The earth quaked, rocks were split,  tombs were opened, and the bodies of many saints who had fallen asleep were raised. And coming forth from their tombs after his resurrection, they entered the holy city and appeared to many.  The centurion and the men with him who were keeping watch over Jesus feared greatly when they saw the earthquake and all that was happening, and they said, “Truly, this was the Son of God!” There were many women there, looking on from a distance, who had followed Jesus from Galilee, ministering to him” Matthew 27:45-55

“It was now about noon and darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon because of an eclipse of the sun. Then the veil of the temple was torn down the middle. Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit”; and when he had said this he breathed his last. The centurion who witnessed what had happened glorified God and said, “This man was innocent beyond doubt.” When all the people who had gathered for this spectacle saw what had happened, they returned home beating their breasts; but all his acquaintances stood at a distance, including the women who had followed him from Galilee and saw these events” Luke 23:44-50

It is the hour of Divine Mercy.  The hour that Jesus commended His Spirit to the Lord, drew His final breath, and died.  I cannot help, as I sit here in the room that we sat with Mimi as she awaited the moment she would draw her final breath and commend her spirit to the Lord, but think of my beloved grandmother.  

This was our special hour.  Any day that I was at home over the past 6 years, I would walk into Mimi’s sanctuary while she was watching the 700 club, and ask if she wanted to pray the Chaplet of Divine Mercy.  “Yes” was almost always her answer.  There were probably a total of 3 or 4 times in 6 years that she said no, because of exhaustion or just feeling lousy.  She usually did not feel very well at all when I asked, but she loved praying the Divine Mercy Chaplet, and I loved praying it with her.  

She and I would sit together and turn a 5 minute prayer, into a 30 minute (at least) devotional to the Mercy of Jesus, interceding for anyone and everyone we could think of.  I can still see her in front of me, eyes closed, face gently lifted toward Heaven or bowed in humble request, as she was invisibly bathed with the Divine Mercy flowing from the Sacred Heart of Jesus.  The Heart that Loved Mimi so much, He died of it.  

I remember the last time I prayed the chaplet with Mimi on earth.  It was the day she passed away, and God gave me the gift of knowing somehow that this was our last one together.  I held her hand and prayed the prayers she no longer could utter, and I cried and thanked God for that gift.  

On this Good Friday, the thought of death is unavoidable.  We have to look at it if we want to look at Jesus.  We have to look at ourselves, mocking Him, spitting at Him, cursing Him.  We have to take responsibility for our part in His death.  We all played a part.  

And then we have to listen as Jesus says from the cross “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do”.  There it is, His Divine Mercy, coming always to our rescue.  Always interceding for us before the Heavenly Father, that we might be immersed in the ocean of His Mercy, and be washed clean of our sins.  For however long we spend repenting of our sins and remembering how we are responsible for His death, let us spend double that time at least reflecting upon His tender compassion, and Divine Mercy, that brought about our salvation.  

Love is stronger than death.  His Mercy is greater and more powerful than any evil or sin that we could ever commit or imagine.  We weep with His Mother at the Cross, for it is the spotless Lamb of God Who bleeds for Love of us up there in pure agony.  We want Jesus never to have to die, we want Him to stay with us.  I wanted Mimi to stay with us, I want to see her and pray the Divine Mercy chaplet with her on this Good Friday.  But that is only seeing Jesus’ death, and Mimi’s, with human eyes.  Jesus was set free the moment He died. Free of His pain, His suffering, His loneliness.  His suffering, which is so painful to look at, or think about, produced more fruit than any miracle or word He ever uttered in His ministry.  Our salvation is His gift to us through His Passion, death and Resurrection.  And, by the grace of God, we know the end of the story.  Christ has died, Christ is Risen, Christ will come again.  

I did pray the Chaplet with Mimi today. I believe her prayers were united with mine, and that she now, more than ever before, implores the Divine Mercy of Jesus for the world and all those she prayed for without fail here on earth every day.  When she drew her final breath, she was set free, too.  Free of her pain, her sorrows, her loneliness.  She, as my momma said today, gets to experience “Easter unfiltered”.  All of the time, for eternity. That is what Jesus’ death, and the Divine Mercy, has done for her and for each one of us.  We just have to ask for it.  

“Amen, amen, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains just a grain of wheat; but if it dies, it produces much fruit” John 12:24

The Divine Mercy Novena begins today and ends on Divine Mercy Sunday in a week.  I encourage all people to participate in this prayer, begging for the Divine Mercy of our Savior to cover the entire world and all of the souls in it.  Jesus wants to give it to everyone, but He will not step across our freedom.  We must ask for it, and it will be ours.  In beautiful ways we could never imagine.  Peace of Christ be with you this Good Friday.  


http://www.ewtn.com/devotionals/mercy/novena.htm

this is My Body

Station 11: Jesus is nailed to the Cross


We adore You, O Christ, and we bless You, because by Your Holy Cross, You have redeemed the world.

“they gave Jesus wine to drink mixed with gall. But when he had tasted it, he refused to drink. After they had crucified him, they divided his garments by casting lots; then they sat down and kept watch over him there.  Matthew 27:34-36

“They brought him to the place of Golgotha (which is translated Place of the Skull). They gave him wine drugged with myrrh, but he did not take it. Then they crucified him” Mark 15: 22-25

“When they came to the place called the Skull, they crucified him and the criminals there, one on his right, the other on his left”  Luke 23:33

“and carrying the cross himself he went out to what is called the Place of the Skull, in Hebrew, Golgotha.  There they crucified him, and with him two others, one on either side, with Jesus in the middle” John 19:17-18

Once again I am struck by the brevity and simplicity of the description of Jesus’ agony in the Gospels.  At least for my part, I feel I can understand why.  I do not enjoy recalling the sufferings of Jesus.  I do not like to think about the pain that He experienced on my behalf.  Pain that should have been mine.  But, I must. I cannot ignore and gloss over the Passion and Death of my Savior.  How can we even begin to grasp the depth of His Love for us if we do not seek to grasp the price He paid to have us with Him for eternity?  

When I was a child, I was told the story of Jesus from day one.  It was written into my life story from the beginning by my parents, and for a while, I got used to it.  Jesus came, He died for us, and He rose from the dead.  I heard it so much, there was a time that I had very little sense of wonder at what all of this meant.  

The Incarnation.  God becoming Man, the Word becoming flesh and dwelling among us.  Giving up Heaven to be with us so we know we are never alone and that we are infinitely Loved and desired by our Creator.  That we were created for Heaven.  That He willingly suffered the most shameful, pain-filled death in order to give us the choice of Heaven, and of life eternal.  It has not been until I was shaken up with my own suffering, that I truly began to realize what it meant for Christ to suffer.  To choose freely what I hate most about being human.  The suffering I cause myself and others through my own sin.  The pain of losing someone I love through death, a reality we will all have to face.  The death that He transformed into life eternal by His own ignominious death.  

I am thankful that my meditation on the 11th station, the Crucifixion of our Lord, is falling on Holy Thursday.  Tonight, my parents and I will continue our Holy Thursday tradition of attending the Sacrifice of the Mass, and there we will hear the Gospel according to St. John telling us how Jesus spent the last hours of His life.  

“So when he had washed their feet
and put his garments back on and reclined at table again,
he said to them, "Do you realize what I have done for you?
You call me 'teacher' and 'master,' and rightly so, for indeed I am.
If I, therefore, the master and teacher, have washed your feet,
you ought to wash one another's feet.
I have given you a model to follow,
so that as I have done for you, you should also do’” John 13:13-15

So “that as I have done for you, you should also do”.  Jesus never just speaks nice words about loving our neighbor, and praying for those who persecute us, and doing unto others as we would have them do to us.  So often, people reduce Jesus to His teachings and the nice things He told people to do.  They are willing to call Him a prophet, or a wise man, and leave it at that.  

Jesus did not just give out some ideas about being a better person.  He claimed to be the Son of God.  He was tortured, and murdered, for this claim.  To reduce Him to what He taught would be to completely miss the point.  Humanity didn’t need another wise man, or prophet, or crazy man who thought he was a son of God. 

Humanity needed a Savior.  Humanity needed a Love so radical, so profound, so unfathomable, that it would change the world.  It would transform the hearts of all nations.  It would restore sight to the blind, not just the physically blind, but the spiritually blind.  It would make the lame walk, the deaf hear, and the dead live again.  I believe that Satan, the father of lies, has sought to deceive the world, not as much by convincing people Jesus never existed (though some may still believe this), because a very large percentage of the world does believe the Man called Jesus of Nazareth did exist in history.  Satan is much more cunning than that and has sought to take the focus off of Jesus’ claim of being the Son of God and Savior of all humanity (whether they believe Him to be their Savior or not), and has directed their attention to some of the nice, agreeable things that He said. Things that a world obsessed with tolerance of anything as long as it feels good and “doesn’t hurt anyone” likes to hear.  I was surrounded by these lies in my experience of being a hospital chaplain.  People who claimed to be Christians, no longer found the belief in the significance of Christ's death or the reality of His Resurrection to be a necessary part of Christianity.  

Tonight we remember Jesus praying in agony in the Garden of Olives, sweating drops of blood for the intensity of His prayer and His Love for God and for us.  The next few days we commemorate and more deeply enter into the reality, not of what Jesus said, but what He did.  Jesus never uttered any words more profound than “This is my Body, given up for you”.  They are remembered now, because He gave up His Body for us on the Cross.  And He continues to give Himself as Food and Drink in the Eucharist.  

Let us remember how intensely and radically He Loves us.  Let us remember that each nail that pierced His flesh, and the thorns that tore into His head, and the whips that stripped away the skin on His back, was for each one of us. Because, Love does such.

I am reminded tonight of something a friend of mine once told me.  He happens to have a favorite star, and it’s the middle star on Orion’s Belt.  And he said that he thought of Jesus praying in the Garden of Olives, and looking up into the Heavens as He prayed, and seeing that middle star in Orion’s belt, and saying “Daniel, this is for you”.  

I pray each one of us has such a realization.  That He knew every single thing about you, the good, the bad, and the ugly, and He chose to leave Heaven to be crucified for you.  Because all He wants is to have you with Him for eternity in Heaven.  All He wants is for each one of us to live in Love and Joy and Light inaccessible with Him forever and ever.  

 Then he took the bread, said the blessing, broke it, and gave it to them, saying, “This is my body, which will be given for you; do this in memory of me.”
Luke 22:19

whoever humbles himself

Station 9: Jesus falls the third time

The valiant one whose steps are guided by the LORD,

who will delight in his way,

May stumble, but he will never fall,

for the LORD holds his hand.

Psalm 37:23-24

For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who has similarly been tested in every way, yet without sin. Hebrews 4:15-16

Station 10: Jesus is stripped of His garments

When the soldiers had crucified Jesus, they took his clothes and divided them into four shares, a share for each soldier. They also took his tunic, but the tunic was seamless, woven in one piece from the top down.24So they said to one another, “Let’s not tear it, but cast lots for it to see whose it will be,” in order that the passage of scripture might be fulfilled [that says]:

“They divided my garments among them,

and for my vesture they cast lots.”  John 19:23-24

A while back, I said something about being embarrassed to Ella.  She asked, of course, what embarrassed means.  I wasn’t sure how to answer, having never been asked for a clear definition of said word, so I resorted to an example.  Real life experience in story form has thus far been the most helpful tool in explaining anything to Ella.  She gets things so much more quickly when I attach a story to it.  I think that holds true for all humans.   Anyway, I told her being embarrassed is like when you trip and fall down in front of a bunch of people, and you feel silly and wish no one saw you do it.  I don’t know if that helped her understand, but that explanation came to my mind today when I was contemplating the 9th and 10th Stations of the Cross.  

On further examination of my explanation to Ella, I found it interesting that I should choose falling down in front of people as my example.  "Why should that be embarrassing?", I asked myself.  People fall down all the time, because we are human and prone to lose our footing.  When we are kids we cry because it hurts, when we are older, we hide our heads in shame, because we are embarrassed.  The embarrassment, I believe, is a result of pride.  I think all humans, myself included, walk around all day hoping against hope that anyone who meets us will find us similar to Mary Poppins: “Practically perfect in every way”.  We want to appear as though we have everything together, we are on top of it, and we don’t do lame stuff like tripping and falling.  That would prove we are fallen.  That would prove that no matter how much we might think we have it together, the smallest thing can get in our path and knock us to the ground.  Falling proves weakness.  Falling makes us feel vulnerable.  And I sure as heck don’t like to appear vulnerable to the world.  

After coming to this conclusion, I realized that station 9 and 10 are all about humility.  

Have among yourselves the same attitude that is also yours in Christ Jesus,
Who, though he was in the form of God,
did not regard equality with God something to be grasped.
Rather, he emptied himself,
taking the form of a slave,
coming in human likeness;
and found human in appearance,
he humbled himself,
becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross. Philipians 2:5-8

He chose to become man, and take on every ugly, undesirous result of our sin without sinning Himself.  This included falling in front of a large crowd that was already mocking Him, spitting on Him, cursing Him.  This included being stripped naked in front of that same crowd.  If falling in front of people is humiliating, being stripped in front of a crowd that is screaming for your death is completely dehumanizing.  Every inch of Jesus was opened to derision.  

He kept nothing for Himself, not even the clothes on His back, so that we might know what true love is, and that it requires humility.  It requires being willing to fall, to hurt, to be stripped of all things that take us away from the Beloved.    He showed us that Love bears all things, and that whoever humbles himself will be exalted (Matthew 23:12).  


I pray we all may have the grace to imitate Jesus’ humility.  To become obedient, and to allow Him to strip us of any garment of pride or self-will that keeps us from giving ourselves completely to the one Who gave Himself completely for Love of us, His lost little sheep.  Peace of Christ be with you as we continue to draw closer to the Cross with Jesus.  

weep not for me

Station 8: Jesus meets the weeping women of Jerusalem


“A large crowd of people followed Jesus, including many women who mourned and lamented him. Jesus turned to them and said, “Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me; weep instead for yourselves and for your children'"  Luke 23:27-28


I learned today that someone very dear to myself and many others is in the hospital, and expected to receive His divine summons soon.  This man is 98 years old, and one of the holiest humans I have had the blessing to encounter.  His name is Father Matt Robinson, and he has been a priest for 71 years.  He actually taught at my mom’s high school, Bishop Lynch, and my mom once went to the Dominican Priory with me for Mass, and recognized him.  She remembered him as a quiet soul, but a staunch and active supporter of the pro-life movement when it first began to take root.  

I knew him first by his slow gait between the parking lot and the UD chapel every Monday for his never failing appointment to preside at the 12:05 Mass.  He was quiet, he was joyful, he wore the peace of Christ like a an invisible, yet palpable garment. His habit was white, and it gracefully veiled his thin, stooped frame. Undaunted by quibbling things such as old age, he smiled and greeted in his quiet manner any soul that passed him by. As I began to venture to different venues for Mass, aka the Priory that was a good 3 minute walk from the UD campus, I heard more of his homilies, and witnessed his ministry to the people that came up to him before and after Mass. Often times he received a request or two or three, for post-Mass confessions.  I was today reminded of perhaps his most commonly used phrase that always followed a request like that: “Happy to help”.

I soon became accustomed to making my way to the priory when I needed confession and didn’t want to brave the line, or just needed to be in the presence of someone who so completely loves Jesus, and only wants others to know His Love for them as well.  I would go and ring the doorbell and he would almost always answer. I think he was the doorkeeper for the priory, which reminds me of a Scripture verse that so completely applies to him:


"Better is one day in your courts than a thousand elsewhere; I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God than dwell in the tents of the wicked" Psalm 84:10

He would click the intercom and I would utter my sometimes desperate plea “Father, could you please hear my confession?”.  Always, always, the answer was “I’d be happy to help”.  He would come down in the elevator as quickly as his 96 years could manage, and usher me in, waving away any thought that I was taking him from his own rest.  His sole purpose was to be there for us poor children who needed to be near someone who radiated the Peace of Christ which surpasses all understanding.

He would first walk with me to the chapel and encourage me “to spend a few minutes with the Lord”.  He would tell me to take my time conversing with Jesus in the Eucharist.  Not only was I interrupting his life, but he willingly encouraged me to prolong the interruption. I don't think he ever thought of another human as an interruption. Just an opportunity to love more. When finally I would reach the little room set aside for this purpose, he would quietly listen as I rattled off my list.  When it was over, and I heaved a sigh of relief, he always spoke the same words, sometimes with a few new insights here and there, but always the message was the same.  

Leave it with the Lord. Look to the Holy Family for guidance and strength and hope. 

He loves the Holy Family, and there was a wooden carving of their faces in that room, and he would always point to it and speak of the beauty of Jesus, Mary and Joseph.  And then he would give me the Holy Family blessing for my family and myself, and a copy of a prayer he loved.  A prayer he called very powerful, because it is a prayer asking the Holy Spirit to employ the gifts that were sealed within us at Baptism and in Confirmation.  He would always give me a few copies in case I lost one, or wanted to pass it on to a friend.  There was really no danger in me losing them, because I am pretty sure I had a copy of that prayer in every bag, purse, pocket or desk that I called my own.


Holy Spirit of God, take me as Thy disciple.
Guide me, instruct me, illuminate me.
Bind my hands, that they may do no evil.
Cover my eyes. that they may see evil no more.
Sanctify my heart, that evil may not dwell within it.
Be Thou my guide, be Thou my God!
Wherever Thou leadest me, I shall go.
Whatever Thou forbidest me, I shall renounce.
Whatever Thou commandest me, in Thy strength I shall do.
Lead me, then, unto the fullness of Thy truth.
Amen.


After that he would effortlessly ease into chat mode, asking me about school, my family, and my plans. When I asked him about himself, he always said he was getting along. There were a few things that came with getting old that were a bit of a challenge, but he was doing well on the whole. Never one complaint.  


I probably just described the experience of so many other students who went to the Priory to receive the Sacraments from Father Robinson. He loves each person as if they were Jesus coming to talk with him. I know, at least from my friends who also went to him often, that it was because they felt Jesus loving them straight through Father Matt that kept them going back. Because that's what we need most. To know we are infinitely loved by Jesus. And Father Robinson lives to share that truth with others..

And he loves babies.  

If there's a baby around after Mass, he wants to see the baby, and bless the families that came with the babies.  He has never stopped advocating for the right to life and an end to abortion.  

I heard this story about him, that gave me more insight into the beauty of his heart that burns like a quiet, yet brilliant flame in the darkness of this world. He was offering the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass one Sunday, and there was a baby crying in the back of the chapel. Instead of being frustrated, or annoyed like others might be if they are trying to talk over a wailing baby, Father Robinson looked up from whatever he was doing and said something to the effect of   "Let the child cry.  There are so many babies whose cries never get to be heard”.  

His heart belongs to Jesus, and even though he was in his late 90s by the time I met him, obviously deserving of a quiet, relaxing retirement, he did not see his life as his own.  He is a priest, a servant of God, the hands and feet of Jesus.  And if someone wanted to go to confession, or receive a Holy Family blessing from him, or spiritual direction, he is at their disposal.  


He has touched so many lives through his gentle, peaceful, compassionate, and loving response to God’s Love for him.  I believe he will continue to touch lives with the love of Christ so present in him until Jesus calls Him Home. He emptied himself and allowed Jesus to fill him with His self.  He has given his life to Christ, the Church.  
He has given his time and his love to any lost lamb that wandered into his meadow seeking a shepherd to point them towards Home again.

I believe he is a living saint, and I am so excited for him in that moment when Jesus welcomes him with outstretched arms to his True Home with the words: “Well done good and faithful servant”.  

I will not weep for Father Robinson. I will rejoice with him, and for Heaven gaining a new saint. I will remember his love for the unborn, and all those whom he encountered. I will weep instead for those children whose cries are never heard. I will weep for the lost souls who have not found their way to the Good Shepherd. I will seek to follow the example of Father Robinson, who took very seriously the words of Jesus: 


"No one has greater love than this, to lay down one's life for one's friends" John 15:13 


I just received a message from a dear friend and old roommate, Teresa, who is very close to Father Matt. Holy people tend to find each other and befriend each other, I have noticed, and that is the case with these two.  Here is an excerpt from the message that will give better insight into the one I have so tried to describe through my brief time with him:

"I know that you have come to love him with so much sincerity that you too will find comfort in knowing that if God does call him in the coming days, he will be one of His most cherished children coming home!! The choirs Fr. Matt may hear!!
I know that he is still in a lot of pain, so please be keeping him in your prayers. I know that he will be using every drop of his being for God's greater glory"


He uses every drop of his being for God's greater glory. That sums up Fr. Robinson perfectly. Thank you, dear Teresa.


*Please remember Father Robinson in your prayers, as well as all those he loved. Let us join him in continued prayer for the end to abortion and a greater respect for life. Born and unborn.

link to an article written by a UD student a while back about Father Robinson:
http://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth201514/m1/13/

falling for you

Station 7:  Jesus falls the Second time

“So he became their savior
in their every affliction.
It was not an envoy or a messenger,
but his presence that saved them.
Because of his love and pity
the LORD redeemed them,
Lifting them up and carrying them
all the days of old” Isaiah 63:8-9

“My heart shudders, my strength forsakes me; the very light of my eyes has failed” Psalm 38:11

On Friday I was doing my famous french braids on Ella, and due to my not always deft hands, and Ella’s very sensitive scalp, the subject of pain inevitably arose. She has become pretty obsessed with pain and fear of things hurting her as of late, and she asked me (for the millionth time that day) her favorite question.  “Why?”.  She wanted to know why things hurt.  I had no idea how to address this, so I just told her that’s part of being human, instead of trying to reach into the long-buried and, let's face it, very rusted vault of knowledge I obtained in anatomy and physiology class back in the day.  This was not a satisfactory answer for her, but I wasn’t sure if it was time to go into the fall of humanity and how suffering and pain are a result of man’s disobedience to God. Thus I went with some variation of "it hurts because it just does". My other favorite of this variety is the classic "because I said so". I feel like such a powerhouse fake mom when I say that.

It was scarcely 30 minutes after this conversation that I was in the kitchen cooking my speciality (hamburgers on a gluten free bun with from-a-bag gluten free fries on the side thank you very much). Ella yells at me to pretend that I hadn’t seen the outfit (i helped pick out) that she was sporting (she was quite pleased with it apparently) when she came down the stairs again, and to plan my extremely impressed reaction to said outfit accordingly.  

There I was, ready to give an oscar winning performance of the new hit series coming to you this fall “Nanny Surprised by Cute Things”, when instead I was greeted by a very foreboding tumble and crash and bones-blamming-wooden-floors sound.  I waited for the scream that was delayed by the shock of pain she had just received, but come that scream most certainly did.  I ran spatula in hand and joined her on the floor, where she was curled up and writhing in pain.  I did my best to pull her to me and cradle her, and though she was in a good amount of pain she found it in her to cry out between pitiful sobs “Why does it hurt? Why?”, and then another favorite question of hers: “Has this happened to you before?”.  

This poor little girl wanted so desperately to understand the why and wherefore of this pain, and know that she was not alone in this experience. She wanted to be reassured that she was not the only one that has felt these things before.  I assured her I had done something just like it and that pretty much anyone who ever goes down stairs eventually takes a tumble down them.  “Why?”, was her predictable response.  

She grew a third, very protuding, eye in the middle of her forehead.  I thought of cyclops, but kept that charming reference to myself.  I held her as I flipped burning burgers, and did my best to console the wounded child in my arms.  Her tears surprisingly quickly subsided as I let her lay on the couch holding a makeshift ice pack to her swelling bump. I tried to speak words of comfort as I attempted to salvage what was left of the blackened meat, once so full of promise.  

There is some suffering that we let slide by, like stubbing a toe, or burning a finger on a cake fresh from the oven, but there are other times when suffering is so intense and painful, we cry out to God “Why? Why this pain?”.  For a 4-year-old, it takes blamming her head on a wooden floor to ask such questions, but as we get accustomed to those sorts of pains as being part of life, we are able to move on without ruffling our feathers too much.  It is not until we are accosted by suffering that seems to make absolutely no sense, that the “Why?” seems to go unanswered, and it seems God has abandoned us.

I have wondered why there are three stations dedicated to Jesus falling for us during His agonizing walk to the hill where He would be crucified.

Isn’t once enough to contemplate our Savior pitifully falling to the ground, exhausted and seemingly abandoned?  I have realized after ruminating over this question that it is for each of us that there are 3 falls. We need them.  As Jesus did everything else in His life and death, this fall was for us.  Not only to give another example of His infinite Love for us, but to show that it is normal to fall under the weight of life’s crosses.  He fell, too.  

And it is normal to ask “Why?”.  He asked God why, too.

The second time He collapses under the weight of His Cross reminds us that it is normal to fall again.  To be going along fine after you got up from the last fall, only to meet another challenge or cross that makes us stumble and fall, even harder, once more.  


He wanted to remind us that we are not alone in our sufferings and pain.  He suffered, too.  He fell, too.  He knew that we would want to know that we weren’t alone in our suffering.  Like little Ella, we want to know that we aren’t the first.  That someone knows how we feel and can share in the suffering and understand just how painful it really is.  


It is so human to desire connection and companionship in every aspect of our life journey.  Especially suffering.  For that is when we feel most alone, and thus need most to know that we are never alone.

He reminds us of that in this seventh station.  We are never alone.  When we feel we have fallen so low and that we have not a friend in the world, He knows exactly how we feel, but to an even more intensely painful degree.  He came so that we would never feel alone in our pain.  He came so that death would not have victory.  He came that we might have life and have it more abundantly (John 11:11).  

“Because he himself was tested through what he suffered, he is able to help those who are being tested”  Hebrews 2:18

Sometimes there is suffering so painful, we may never be satisfied by any attempted explanation.  We may have to wait until we meet the Lord to know the “why”.  I felt that way very much as I watched my beloved Mimi die a very painful death.  No answer, no matter how theologically sound, was satisfactory.  At that point, my only consolation was that Jesus was willing to feel every pain and sorrow Mimi, my Mom and our family were experiencing.  He left Heaven, paradise, and willingly walked into a suffering I wanted nothing more than to escape.  All so that in those dark moments, when nothing made sense, I knew He was there.  

And that He knew exactly how I felt.


He wants to help us up every time we fall. He is there, He knows how it feels, and He will never ever leave us or forsake us.

"Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourselves.  For my yoke is easy, and my burden light" Matthew 11:28-30