Good Friday

But He was pierced through for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; The chastening for our well-being fell upon Him, And by His scourging we are healed. ~Isaiah 53:5 (700 B.C.)

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believes in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. ~John3:16

In this is love, not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son to be the propitiation for our sins.

~1 John 4:10



Annunciation

Crucifixion

Both paintings are by Giovanni Batista Tiepolo (1696-1770). Holy Week. Good Friday. The day when Jesus won salvation for all men. But today, March 25th, is also the day we celebrate the Annunciation, the date when God became man in Mary's womb. There is something poetic about these two important days coinciding. It's the event horizon. Time stops. I have no words to express myself. But here's an interesting article that attempts. And another. Good food for thought. And even more here and here.

I repeat this verse from the Exultet: "O happy fault that earned for us so great, so glorious a Redeemer."

And I return to Mary -- her joy and her sorrow. But today her soul is pierced through. This 13th century hymn to Mary has been put to music by many. We typically sing a simple tune when we do Stations of the Cross, and a 4-part arrangement by Zoltan Kodaly on Good Friday, but I just discovered this highly expressive, polyphonic version by John Browne (1425-1505). Enjoy! Mary Undoer of Knots, pray for us.   

Stabat Mater by John Browne

Stabat mater dolorosa juxta Crucem lacrimosa, dum pendebat Filius. Cuius animam gementem, contristatam et dolentem pertransivit gladius. O quam tristis et afflicta fuit illa benedicta, mater Unigeniti! Quae mœrebat et dolebat, pia Mater, dum videbat nati pœnas inclyti. Quis est homo qui non fleret, matrem Christi si videret in tanto supplicio? Quis non posset contristari Christi Matrem contemplari dolentem cum Filio? Pro peccatis suæ gentis vidit Iesum in tormentis, et flagellis subditum. Vidit suum dulcem Natum moriendo desolatum, dum emisit spiritum. Eia, Mater, fons amoris me sentire vim doloris fac, ut tecum lugeam. Fac, ut ardeat cor meum in amando Christum Deum ut sibi complaceam. Sancta Mater, istud agas, crucifixi fige plagas cordi meo valide. Tui Nati vulnerati, tam dignati pro me pati, pœnas mecum divide. Fac me tecum pie flere, crucifixo condolere, donec ego vixero. Juxta Crucem tecum stare, et me tibi sociare in planctu desidero. Virgo virginum præclara, mihi iam non sis amara, fac me tecum plangere. Fac, ut portem Christi mortem, passionis fac consortem, et plagas recolere. Fac me plagis vulnerari, fac me Cruce inebriari, et cruore Filii. Flammis ne urar succensus, per te, Virgo, sim defensus in die iudicii. Christe, cum sit hinc exire, da per Matrem me venire ad palmam victoriæ. Quando corpus morietur, fac, ut animæ donetur paradisi gloria. Amen.

At the Cross her station keeping, stood the mournful Mother weeping, close to her Son to the last. Through her heart, His sorrow sharing, all His bitter anguish bearing, now at length the sword has passed. O how sad and sore distressed was that Mother, highly blest, of the sole-begotten One. Christ above in torment hangs, she beneath beholds the pangs of her dying glorious Son. Is there one who would not weep, whelmed in miseries so deep, Christ's dear Mother to behold? Can the human heart refrain from partaking in her pain, in that Mother's pain untold? For the sins of His own nation, She saw Jesus wracked with torment, All with scourges rent: She beheld her tender Child, Saw Him hang in desolation, Till His spirit forth He sent. O thou Mother! fount of love! Touch my spirit from above, make my heart with thine accord: Make me feel as thou hast felt; make my soul to glow and melt with the love of Christ my Lord. Holy Mother! pierce me through, in my heart each wound renew of my Savior crucified: Let me share with thee His pain, who for all my sins was slain, who for me in torments died. Let me mingle tears with thee, mourning Him who mourned for me, all the days that I may live: By the Cross with thee to stay, there with thee to weep and pray, is all I ask of thee to give. Virgin of all virgins blest!, Listen to my fond request: let me share thy grief divine; Let me, to my latest breath, in my body bear the death of that dying Son of thine. Wounded with His every wound, steep my soul till it hath swooned, in His very Blood away; Be to me, O Virgin, nigh, lest in flames I burn and die, in His awful Judgment Day. Christ, when Thou shalt call me hence, be Thy Mother my defense, be Thy Cross my victory; While my body here decays, may my soul Thy goodness praise, Safe in Paradise with Thee. — Translation by Edward Caswall, Lyra Catholica (1849)