From its outset, human history attests the wretchedness and oppression born of the human heart in consequences of the abuse of freedom.

(Catechism of the Catholic Church #1739)

1. Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.
2. Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise.
3. Woman, behold your son. Behold, your mother.
4. My God, my God, why have you forsaken me.
5. I thirst
6. It is finished
7. Father, into your hands I commend my spirit

Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.
 

We go about our everyday lives. Sometimes we live our faith at work and school, sometimes we don't. It's Lent, so we promise to give up candy, coffee, alcohol, chocolate. Then we slip up and forget. We even complain about what we are missing. We forget about not eating meat on Friday, shrug our shoulders, and murmur "Maybe next week." We don't know what we are doing.

We immediately race to the store when a headaches strikes to purchase painkillers, failing to perceive any value or meaning in suffering. We allow doctors to withhold nourishment to our comatose loved one in the name of sympathy - the nursing home is getting expensive. We don't know what we are doing

We use contraceptives and sterilization, announcing the Church teachings are backward. We celebrate abortion and euthanasia, defending our right to choose the conditions under which preferred individuals are protected. We don't know what we are doing

We pretend to serve life and reproduction by going to any means medically possible to reproduce artificially, purposefully ignoring the high chance of failure and the added risks to the development of the embryo. We're willing to take the risks as long as we get the child we want when we want it. We don't know what we are doing

We ignore and excuse our weaknesses. It's easier that way. After all, the Church offers us the challenge of the ideal - the Way of Jesus. It is not an easy path. It is not the middle of the road. It is risking our pride, our wealth, our social status. It is loving our neighbor, loving the murderer and the con artist, welcoming the child with Down's Syndrome, forgiving our dysfunctional family members. It is taking a stand and not accepting what is relative, choosing what is right and what is wrong, facing evil and fighting it rather than letting it survive.

Through it all God understands our humanity and forgives us. He can forgive us as we may not be able to forgive ourselves. He leads us back to Himself.

Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in paradise.

Why did the good thief defend Jesus? Did he, in that shared moment of tremendous suffering, see the glory of Jesus and have a true conversion? Maybe he thought Jesus was some crazy guy who wanted to be king, so joined in the mocking, albeit more charitably. Maybe he realized Jesus' crucifixion was horrendously worse than his own, and he was moved to pity. Whatever the reason the good thief turned to Jesus, Jesus accepted him, comforted him, and promised to bring him Home.

Incredible. At a time when the normal man would be in the depths of despair, Jesus gave comfort and hope. Then again, He was no ordinary man. Even while dying Jesus taught us that no matter how we come to Him, He accepts us. We're unworthy - that's okay. We are ordinary men. He knew that all along. He died for our unworthiness.

We all have our conversion stories. Some of us experience a gradual conversion, like that of the original Apostles. It's not bells and whistles, it's a simple, gradual conversion with an ever-increasing sense of longing that leads the way to our Church family. Others compare their conversion to that of St. Paul's - like being knocked off a horse, then joyfully living and spreading the Good News that finally makes sense. At the center of every conversion story, though, is the support and welcoming of Jesus.

Like the good thief, our motives at the time of conversion may be questionable. Looking back we may marvel that Jesus would accept someone with such incomplete faith. That is exactly the point. We simply need to open our hearts a little bit. He'll carry us the rest of the way. He died to bring us Home.

Woman, behold your son. Behold, your mother.

It sounds so simple - do what He tells you. However, day in and day out we do what we tell ourselves: get angry, be selfish, put yourself first. That is so different from the life of Our Lady.

Mary did not have an easy life. She had to live with prophecies of doom (Simeon at the Temple), miracles (virgin birth), a missing child (3 days in the Temple) and rejection (Jesus seemed to ignore her repeatedly - who are my mother and brothers; woman, my time has not yet come) She never made an angry scene. We have no record of her whining and complaining. She did not forbid Him to preach, or manipulate Him by telling Him she could not handle it. She accepted her Son, she accepted His vocation, she allowed other people to have Him during His time of ministry. But in the end, when everyone else had deserted Him, she was there.

How did she feel when the men and women closest to Jesus fled when the going got tough? Was she disappointed in them and their fears? Did she shake them to their senses and force them to fight for her son? Support her son? Help her son? No. She was with them Easter morning. She was with them in the upper room. She was present at the first Pentecost. She stayed to both console them and be consoled by them.

How did the disciples feel when Mary looked at them? Embarrassed? Ashamed? She had been at the foot of the cross. They hid as cowards. In her quiet way she continued to lead them during the times of emptiness, the times she had already learned were inevitable. She was their mother, as she is our mother.

Mary is eternally obedient. She did not concentrate on finding herself and pleasing herself. She concentrated on finding God and pleasing God. We should joyfully follow her example.

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me

Not only is God absent at the Crucifixion, He has been absent throughout the Passion. In the Garden of Gethsemane Jesus prayed pitifully, "Please take this cup away from me." God the Father did not respond. Nor did He intervene at the trial, the horrific scourging, or at the mock crowning. Where was the loving Father? 

How often have we felt like Jesus? Sometimes God seems so distant. There is no evidence of Him in our lives. When everything goes wrong, we feel alone. When everything is running smoothly, He 's not involved. We're surrounded by so many people with no faith at all. Their lives seem no different from our own. Where is this God?

Jesus answers that question for us. Jesus' impassioned cry is not simply a cry of despair. It is Psalm 22, and is truly a cry of hope. Jesus lets us know we need never despair. God always hears us. We may not understand His will in that moment, but if we allow His will to be ours, we can eventually see His wisdom and guidance in the plan. After all, if Jesus had stepped off the cross at that moment, would He have conquered death? If He remained in His human form, would we be able to see His glory? He showed us that faithful suffering is a step to salvation.

Jesus had to complete His mission. Likewise, we need to open our hearts to God's will and accept our own mission. God will give us everything we need when we need it. When He seems distant, look around. Amazing things are happening all around that show us the face of God. We just need to recognize them. People who recognize God in everyday occurrences do live and feel differently than those with no faith. Embracing every part of our lives leads to the wonderful adventure of God's love.

If you have not read Psalm 22, please take time during this Lenten season to do so. Right now, consider just a few of the lines from the New American Bible translation:

(verse 3) O my God, I cry out by day, and you answer not; by night, and there is no relief for me.

(verse 10) You have been my guide since I was first formed, my security at my mother's breast.

(verses 17-19) Indeed, many dogs surround me, a pack of evildoers closes in upon me; they have pierced my hands and my feet; I can count all my bones. They look on and gloat over me; they divide my garments among them, and for my vesture they cast lots.

(verse 23) I will proclaim your name to my brethren; in the midst of the assembly I will praise you.

(verse 25) For he has not spurned nor disdained the wretched man in his misery, Nor did he turn his face away from him, but when he cried out to him he heard him.

(verses 31b-32) Let the coming generation be told of the Lord that they may proclaim to a people yet to be born the justice he has shown.

I Thirst

The Gospel of John, which does not mention the Last Supper, makes a specific point to describe the last moments of the life of Jesus. After this, aware that everything was now finished, in order that scripture might be fulfilled, Jesus said, 'I thirst.' (Jn 19:28) Then he drank the common wine which was offered to Him on a reed of hyssop. His drinking this last Passover cup signaled the end of the old age, the end of the Old Covenant, the end of sin and death. The New Covenant had begun.

Jesus' thirst was assuaged. So is ours. We are part of the New Covenant, and participate in that covenant every time we celebrate the Eucharist. We need never thirst again.

It is finished

Jesus has taught us everything we need to know. We just need to put it into practice. We, too, have an earthly mission. We, too, must realize when we have accomplished everything humanly possible, and then be willing to recognize when we must allow God to take care of everything that requires divine intervention. How often do we turn over control to God? How often do we push and push and push, holding onto control, and driving others absolutely crazy? How often do we fail to let God be God, and ourselves to be merely human?

It takes faith and trust to say "It is finished" and turn the next step over to God. It takes faith and trust to relinquish our own wills and recognize, and maybe even look forward to, miracles. It takes faith and trust, along with a dash of humility, to allow ourselves to be human, and not demand divinity. In the final moments of His human life, Jesus showed us that being fully human is a step closer to God. It is a step we must be willing to take to begin a new life.

These last words brought the end - and a new beginning. With His last breath Jesus uttered a loud cry and then gave up His spirit. What followed was spectacular. The earth quaked. The curtain to the Holy of Holies, the most sacred place in the Temple of Jerusalem, tore from top to bottom. Roman soldiers were shocked; at least one is recorded to have said, "Clearly this was the Son of God!" The new age had begun.

Throughout the horrific ordeal of suffering and death Jesus taught us to have complete trust and hope in God. Jesus, with His human free will, chose to accept the worst imaginable death for Himself and turn it into eternal life for us.

Now it is our turn. We can have complete trust and hope in God, and, with our own free will, choose eternal life. Jesus has shown us it is possible. We simply have to have the faith to accept that fact.