The Victory of The Cross – Holy Saturday

PRESENCE OF GOD – O Jesus, crucified for love of me, show me the victory won by
Your death.

MEDITATION
Point 1. As soon as Jesus expired, “the veil of the Temple was torn in two … the
earth quaked, the rocks were rent. And the graves were opened, and many bodies
… arose,” so that those who were present were seized with a great fear and said:
“Indeed this was the Son of God” (Matthew 27:51-54). Jesus willed to die in
complete ignominy, accepting to the very end the mocking and ironic challenges of
the soldiers, “If Thou be Christ, save Thyself” (Luke 23:39); but scarcely had He
drawn His last breath, when His divinity revealed itself in such a powerful manner
that it impressed even those who, up to that moment, had been jeering at Him.
Christ’s death began to show itself for what it really was, that is, not a defeat but a
victory: the greatest victory that the world would ever witness, the victory over sin,
the victory over death, which was the consequence of sin, the victory, which
restored to man the life of grace.
In offering us the Cross for adoration yesterday, the Church sang: “Behold the
wood of the Cross, on which hung the salvation of the world,” and after the
mournful alternations of the Improperia, or tender reproaches, she intones a hymn
of praise in honor of the Cross: “Sing, my tongue, the noble triumph whose trophy
is the Cross, and the victory won by the immolation of the Redeemer of the
world!” Thus, consideration of the Lord’s sufferings and compassion for them
alternate with the hymn of victory. The supreme paradox of death and life, of
death and victory, reach a unity in Jesus, in such a way that the first is the cause of
the second. St. John of the Cross, describing the agony of Jesus on the Cross,
affirms: “He wrought herein the greatest work that He had ever wrought, whether
in miracles or in mighty works, during the whole of His life, either upon earth or in
Heaven, which was the reconciliation and union of mankind, through grace, with
God. And this, as I say, was at the moment and the time when this Lord was most
completely annihilated in everything. Annihilated, that is to say, with respect to
human reputation; since, when men saw Him die, they mocked Him rather than
esteemed Him; and also, with respect to nature, since His nature was annihilated
when He died; and further with respect to the spiritual consolation and protection
of the Father, since at that time He forsook Him ….” And he concludes: “Let the
truly spiritual man…understand the mystery of the gate and of the way of Christ,
and so become united with God, and let him know that the more completely he is
annihilated for God’s sake, according to these two parts, the sensual and the
spiritual, the more completely he is united to God and the greater is the work
which he accomplishes” (Ascent of Mount Carmel, Book II, Chapter 7, Paragraph
11).
Point 2. “In peace in the selfsame I will sleep, and I will rest.” These opening words
of Matins of Holy Saturday refer to the peace of the tomb, where, after so many
tortures, the sacred Body of Jesus rests. Indeed, this day is meant to be one of
recollection in silence and prayer beside the sepulcher of the Lord.
After the death of Jesus, frightened by the earthquake and the darkness, all had
left Calvary except the little group of faithful ones: Our Lady and St. John, who
were never away from the Cross, and Mary Magdalen and the other pious women
who “had followed Jesus from Galilee ministering unto Him” (Matthew 27:55).
Although Our Lord had died, they could not tear themselves away from Him, their
adored Master, the object of all their love and hope. It was their love that kept
them near the lifeless Body. This is a sign of real fidelity, to persevere even in the
darkest and most painful moments, when all seems lost, and when a friend,
instead of triumphing, is reduced to defeat and profound humiliation. It is easy to
be faithful to God when everything goes smoothly, when His cause triumphs; but
to be equally faithful in the hour of darkness hen for a time, He permits evil to get
the upper hand, when everything that is good and holy seems to be swept away
and irrevocably lost – this is hard, but it is the most authentic proof of real love.
Two disciples, Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus, took charge of the burial. The
sacred Body was taken down from the Cross, wrapped in a sheet with spices, and
laid “in a new monument” which Joseph “had hewed out in a rock [for himself]”
(Matthew 27:60). Together with Mary, who must certainly have been present at
the scene and received the lacerated Body of her divine Son into her arms, let us
also draw near to the sacred remains; let us gaze on these wounds, on these
bruises, on this Blood, all of which speak so eloquently of Jesus’ love for us. It is
true that these wounds are no longer painful, but glorious; and tomorrow, at the
Easter dawn, we shall celebrate the great victory which they have won. However,
though glorified, they remain and will remain forever the indelible marks of the
exceedingly great charity with which Christ loved us.
May this Saturday, a day of transition between the agony of Friday and the glory of
the Resurrection, be a day of prayer and recollection near the lifeless body of
Jesus; let us open wide our heart and purify it in His Blood, so that renewed in love
and purity, it can vie with the “new sepulcher” in offering the beloved Master a
place of peace and rest.

COLLOQUY

“Hail, O Cross, our only hope! You increase grace in the souls of the just and remit
the faults of sinners. O glorious resplendent tree, decked in royal purple, on your
arms hangs the price of our Redemption, in you is our victory, our ransom!” (cf
Roman Breviary).

“O Christ, I glance again at Your bloodstained face, and I raise my tear-filled eyes to
see Your wounds and bruises. I lift my contrite, afflicted heart, to consider all the
tribulations You have endured in order to seek me and to save me.

“O good Jesus, how generously have You given us, on the Cross, all You had! To
Your executioners, Your loving prayer; to the thief, Paradise; to Your Mother, a
son, and to the son, a Mother; to the dead, You gave back life, and you placed Your
soul in Your Father’s hands; You showed Your power to the entire world, and shed,
through Your wide and numerous wounds, not a few drops, but all Your Blood, to
redeem a slave!… O meek Lord and Savior of the world, how can we thank You
worthily?

“O good Jesus, You bow Your crowned Head, pierced by many thorns, inviting me
to the kiss of peace. ‘see,’ You say to me, ‘how disfigured, torn, and annihilated I
am! Do you know why? To lift you up, O wandering sheep, to put you on my
shoulder and bring you to the heavenly pasture in Paradise. Now return My Love.
Behold Me in My Passion. Love Me. I gave Myself to you; give yourself to Me.’ O
Lord, I am grief-stricken at the sight of Your wounds; I want You to rule over me,
just as You are, in Your Passion. I want to set You as a seal upon my heart, as a seal
on my arm, to make me conformable to You and Your martyrdom in all I think and
do.

“O good and gentle Jesus! You who gave Yourself to us as a ransom for our
redemption, grant that we, unworthy though we be, may correspond with Your
grace, entirely, perfectly, and in all things” (cf. St. Bonaventure).