The ancient greyness shifted Suddenly and thinned Like mist upon the moors Before a wind. An old, old prophet lifted A shining face and said: “He will be coming soon. The Son of God is dead; He died this afternoon.”
A murmurous excitement stirred All souls. They wondered if they dreamed— Save one old man who seemed Not even to have heard.
And Moses standing, Hushed them all to ask If any had a welcome song prepared. If not, would David take the task? And if they cared Could not the three young children sing The Benedicite, the canticle of praise They made when God kept them from perishing In the fiery blaze?
A breath of spring surprised them, Stilling Moses’ words. No one could speak, remembering The first fresh flowers, The little singing birds. Still others thought of fields new ploughed Or apple trees All blossom-boughed. Or some, the way a dried bed fills With water Laughing down green hills. The fisherfolk dreamed of the foam On bright blue seas. The one old man who had not stirred Remembered home.
And there He was Splendid as the morning sun and fair As only God is fair. And they, confused with joy, Knelt to adore Seeing that he wore Five crimson stars He never had before. No canticle at all was sung. None toned a psalm, or raised a greeting song. A silent man alone Of all that throng Found tongue— Not any other. Close to His heart When the embrace was done, Old Joseph said, “How is Your Mother, How is Your Mother, Son?”
“We must be mindful of the fact that death is no longer the same as it was before Christ endured it, before he accepted and penetrated it, just as life, being human, is no longer the same as it was before human nature, in Christ, was able to come in contact with - and it truly did - God’s own being. Before, death was just death, separation from the land of the living and, albeit at differing degrees of profundity, something like “hell”, the nocturnal side of living, impenetrable darkness. But now death is also life and when we pass over the glacial solitude of the threshold of death, we always meet once more with him who is life, whose desire is to become the companion of our ultimate solitude and who, in the mortal solitude of his anguish on the Mount of Olives and of his cry on the cross: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”, became a partaker of our solitudes. If a child had to venture out alone through a wood on a dark night, he would be afraid even if he were to be shown a hundred times that there was nothing to fear. He is not afraid of anything specific, to which he could put a name, but in the dark he feels insecure, an orphan, he feels the sinister character of inner existence. Only a human voice could console him; only the hand of a person he loves could banish the anguish, like a bad dream. There is an anguish - the true kind nesting in the profundity of our solitudes - which cannot be overcome by reason but only by the presence of a person who loves us. This anguish, in fact, doesn’t have an object to which we could put a name. It is the terrible expression of our ultimate solitude. Who among us has not felt the awful sensation of this state of abandonment? Who would not hear the blessed, comforting miracle worked in these circumstances by an affectionate word? But wherever there is such solitude as to be inaccessible to the transforming word of love, then that is the place we call hell… .One thing is sure: there will come a night when no word of comfort will penetrate the dark abandon, there will be a door which we must pass though in absolute solitude: the door of death. All this world’s anguish is, in the final analysis, the anguish generated by this solitude. This is why in the Old Testament, the word indicating the kingdom of the dead was identical to the word for hell: shêol. Death, in fact, is absolute solitude. But this solitude which can no longer be illumined by love, which is so profound that love can no longer reach it, is hell.
“Descended into hell” - this confession of Holy Saturday means that Christ passed through the door of solitude, that he descended into the unreachable and insuperable depth of our condition of solitude. This means, however, that also in that extreme night which no word penetrates, when we will all be like children, banished, weeping, there will be a voice that calls to us, a hand that takes our hand and leads us on. Man’s insuperable solitude was overcome from the moment He entered it. Hell was beaten from the moment love entered the region of death and the no man’s land of solitude was inhabited by him. In his profundity, man does not live by bread. In the authenticity of his being he lives by the fact that he is loved and is himself given the faculty to love. From the moment there is the presence of love in death’s sphere, then life penetrates death: life is not taken from your faithful, O Lord, but transformed, the Church prays in its funeral liturgy.
In the final analysis, no one can measure the portent of the words: “descended into hell”. But if at some time it is ours to draw near to the hour of our ultimate solitude, we will be given to understand something of the great clarity of this dark mystery. In the hopeful certainty that when the hour of extreme solitude comes we will not be alone, we can already, now, presage something of what will happen. And in the throes of our protest against the darkness of the death of God we begin to be grateful for the light that comes to us from this same darkness. “
—Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, “Three Meditations on Holy Saturday: An Anguish of Absence”
“Lord Jesus Christ, in the darkness of death You made a light shine; in the abyss of the deepest solitude the powerful protection of Your love now lives for ever; in the throes of Your concealment we now can sing the hallelujah of the saved. Grant us the humble simplicity of faith, which does not let us stray when You call us in the hours of darkness, of abandonment, when all seems difficult; grant us, at this time when a mortal struggle is being waged around You, light enough that we will not lose You; light enough for us to give to all those who still have need of it. Make the mystery of Your Easter joy shine, like the aurora of the dawn, on these days of ours; grant that we may truly be men of Easter in the midst of history’s Holy Saturday. Grant that in the course of the days of light and dark of this age we may always with happy hearts find ourselves on the pathway to Your future glory. Amen.”
—Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, “Three Meditations On Holy Saturday”
Something strange is happening—there is a great silence on earth today, a great silence and stillness. The whole earth keeps silence because the King is asleep. The earth trembled and is still because God has fallen asleep in the flesh and he has raised up all who have slept ever since the world began. God has died in the flesh and hell trembles with fear.
For@thelonelybrilliance and my other Catholic friends here’s a really interesting Polish song for Easter period.
This song is titled “Ludu, mój ludu” (”People, my people”) and it’s a lament of Christ who’s asking the Chosen Nation why did they put Him - their God - through suffering,
Each paragrath starts with:
“People, my people, what have I done to you [to deserve it]?
How have I saddened you?
How have I wronged you?”
And proceeds with depiction of good things God gave His Chosen Nation and what was done to Him during crucificion.
This is one of my favorite religious songs and one that is sung during Lent.
I hope it will get you all into a mood.
Edit:
Here’s lyrics:
Ludu, mój ludu! Cóżem ci uczynił? [People, my people, what have I done to you?] W czymem zasmucił, albo w czym zawinił? [How have I saddened you, how have I wronged you?] Jam cię wyzwolił z mocy faraona, [I’ve freed you from Pharaoh’s power] A tyś przyrządził krzyż na Me ramiona. [And you’ve put/made cross on My arms.]
Ludu, mój ludu! Cóżem ci uczynił? [People, my people, what have I done to you?] W czymem zasmucił, albo w czym zawinił? [How have I saddened you, how have I wronged you?] Jam cię wprowadził w kraj miodem płynący, [I’ve led you into the land of milk and honey] Tyś Mi zgotował śmierci znak hańbiący. [You gave Me the disgraceful sign of death.]
Ludu, mój ludu! Cóżem ci uczynił? [People, my people, what have I done to you?] W czymem zasmucił, albo w czym zawinił? [How have I saddened you, how have I wronged you?] Jam ciebie szczepił, winnico wybrana, [I’ve interlocked you, chosen vineyard.] A tyś Mnie octem poił, swego Pana. [And you watered me, Your Lord, with vinegar.]
Ludu, mój ludu! Cóżem ci uczynił? [People, my people, what have I done to you?] W czymem zasmucił, albo w czym zawinił? [How have I saddened you, how have I wronged you?] Jam dla cię spuszczał na Egipt karanie, [I’ve sent punishment on Egypt.] A tyś Mnie wydał na ubiczowanie. [And you’ve spent Me on whipping.]”
Now, I’ve stumbled upon verisons with verse like these:
“Ludu, mój ludu! Cóżem ci uczynił? [People, my people, what have I done to you?] W czymem zasmucił, albo w czym zawinił? [How have I saddened you, how have I wronged you?] Jam ciebie karmił manny rozkoszami, [i’ve feed you with the pleasures of manna lichen,] Tyś Mi odpłacił policzkowaniami. [You’ve repaid me with slapping.]
Ludu, mój ludu! Cóżem ci uczynił? [People, my people, what have I done to you?] W czymem zasmucił, albo w czym zawinił? [How have I saddened you, how have I wronged you?] Jam ci dał berło Judzie powierzone, [I gave you the Judah’s septer,] A tyś Mi wtłoczył cierniową koronę. [And you crammed thorned crown on Me.]
Many of you may see crucifixion pieces that look like this. Beautiful as they may be, I believe they fail to truly convey reality.
Before Jesus was crucified, he was scourged. The flagrum that would have been used included pieces of bone and metal woven into a leather whip. It would have torn chunks of Jesus’ flesh from his body, and left deep and bloody gashes.
After this, Jesus was taken and the scarlet robe and crown of thorns were placed on him. He was subsequently spat on and struck on the head with a reed, which would have pressed the crown further into him. The pain at this point would already have been excruciating. Many people died by the scourge.
He was then forced to carry his own cross to the place where he would be crucified. Of course this was nearly impossible, and that is why Jesus fell multiple times and why Simon the Cyrene was conscripted to help carry it.
When Jesus finally made it to Golgotha, he would first have been laid down on the cross, his hands and feet nailed to it, and then the cross would be raised. This painting illustrates the scars and blood which would be on Jesus’ body by this point.
When Jesus was on the cross, each breath would have been excruciating. The nails would be ripping at his hands, gravity taking its toll. One thing you need to keep in mind is that crucifixion was considered one of the lowest forms of death. It was shameful and dishonorable, so much so that the idea of the Son of God being crucified was itself a mockery, an insult. Romans who heard that the Christian Messiah was crucified would likely have seen this as impossible, how could God’s Son be put through such a despicable thing?
In a more spiritual sense, tradition holds that while Jesus was on the cross, he witnessed and felt every single sin that would be committed in all of time, and that because he took all of them upon himself, he was entirely cut off from God the Father. The weight of not just the world’s sin, but the entirety of humanity in all times past, present, and future, would have accompanied Jesus alongside his physical pain. This cannot be understated. Jesus did not merely experience a horrific physical death, but also the pain and suffering of all sin and of the experience of being cut off from God. Being cut off from God is one of the aspects of being in hell, so on the cross he would have experienced a sort of literal hell.
Jesus died after three hours of suffering on the cross. “My God my God, why have you forsaken me?”
Now, I want you to imagine things from the perspective of Mary. We know God does not experience emotions as we do, but I think Mary gives us a glimpse, a sort of shadow, of what God would have “felt” seeing His exalted Son cut off from him and put to death.
Mary watched her only Son, conceived by the Holy Spirit, be put through all this. Today we know how awful it is for mothers to lose their children, whether it be in a miscarriage or an accident in adult life. So, then, we know that Mary would have experienced something truly awful. I cannot fathom what it must have been like to see your son, the messiah, bloodied and crucified.
Today, let us remember what Christ did for us, and what he earned for us. He did not have to go through all this. We do not deserve salvation. But he won it for us. It is a gift freely given. So we must accept it and live our lives as he did. We must take up our own cross.
“Today bring to Me all Devout and Faithful Souls, and immerse them in the ocean of My mercy. These souls brought me consolation on the Way of the Cross. They were a drop of consolation in the midst of an ocean of bitterness."
Most Merciful Jesus, from the treasury of Your mercy, You impart Your graces in great abundance to each and all. Receive us into the abode of Your Most Compassionate Heart and never let us escape from It. We beg this grace of You by that most wondrous love for the heavenly Father with which Your Heart burns so fiercely.
Eternal Father, turn Your merciful gaze upon faithful souls, as upon the inheritance of Your Son. For the sake of His sorrowful Passion, grant them Your blessing and surround them with Your constant protection. Thus may they never fail in love or lose the treasure of the holy faith, but rather, with all the hosts of Angels and Saints, may they glorify Your boundless mercy for endless ages. Amen.
Begin with the Sign of the Cross, 1 Our Father, 1 Hail Mary and The Apostles Creed.
Then on the Our Father Beads say the following: Eternal Father, I offer You the Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity of Your dearly beloved Son, Our Lord Jesus Christ, in atonement for our sins and those of the whole world.
On the 10 Hail Mary Beads say the following: For the sake of His sorrowful Passion, have mercy on us and on the whole world. (Repeat step 2 and 3 for all five decades).
Conclude with (three times): Holy God, Holy Mighty One, Holy Immortal One, have mercy on us and on the whole world.
