You Looked Down

You looked down
From Your Cross
To behold faithfulness.
There stood Your Mother.

You beheld her look of grief,
Her suffering Your pain.
You wed it
To Your Own,
Presenting all
Before Our Father’s holy throne.

© 2013 Joann Nelander

Passion Deed

Lord, my tears are plentiful,
As I behold Thee in Thy rest.
Kneeling in poverty of spirit,
I am thrice blessed.

Your forever Union
With our Heavenly Father
Embraces me as the child,
That I am want to be,
Obedient, merciful and mild.

The Holy Spirit of God
Rests upon me,
Gifting me in sorrow for sin,
Raising me above the world,
And lifting me
To the lap of Abba Father,
With You, within.

Here in hallowed Presence,
My tears fall upon the garden,
You plant in my soul,
To water this consecrated plot
Replete with the promised fulfillment
That heals and makes me whole.

Already, but not yet,
Here in seed,
With You in Eternity,
Won by Cross and Passion-Deed.

©2012 Joann Nelander

You Looked Down

You looked down
From Your Cross
To behold faithfulness.
There stood Your Mother.

You beheld her look of grief,
Her suffering Your pain.
You wed it
To Your Own,
Presenting all
Before Our Father’s holy throne.

© 2013 Joann Nelander

Spiritual Communion

Come, my Lord, to this poor dwelling,
You are Lord of all, and heaven is at hand as You approach.
Come in Spirit to my humble abode.
At your coming, the angels make ready.
They spread their wings over Your Mercy Seat.

Come be enthroned here in my heart.
Allow the splendor of heaven
To scatter flowers along Your Way,
As You incline Your Heart
To one in misery for want of You.

I rejoice for You are here,
And in my embrace.
You are Now.
You are mine,
O my Beloved.

Heaven finds a home in my soul,
As You reign in my heart.
A river of Life pours forth,
As You water this garden,
And provide rich food and fruit,
For all who will partake.

copyright 2014 Joann Nelander

Come Easter Morn

Holy Mother Mary,
I invite Your presence in my life.
As you look on my days,
Listen to my prayers,
Watch my growth through the years,
Touch me with the graces
Of.your Motherly prerogative,

You who walked the way of the Cross
With your Holy Son,
From the instant of His Incarnation
In your sacred womb,
Be beside me
In my every moment.
Meet me in my joys and sorrows
And impart your maternal blessing.

May my soul grow holy,
As you rush to lift me,
When I fall,
Just as you interceded
For Jesus in His Passion.

He fell under the weight of my sins,
And you cried out to heaven.
Hear now my heart
Beseeching thee.

Standing by His Cross,
See me in His Suffering
And receive me as your own.

Take the moments,
And all the years,
Of my existence,
In your arms,
As you did the Body of your Son,
When He was lowered from His Cross.
He wrought my Salvation
In that fearsome Hour.

Wrap my years in His shroud
And when I wake,
Rejoice in this,
My Easter morn.

Passion of a Warrior

When did his passion begin?
Did it commence with the kiss
By which he bid his loved ones adieu.
Or did the call to battle
Bid him count the cost,
Shattering vanities and proud hoorahs,
With winter ice
Though veins,
Piercing to the marrow of bone.

The Call was always greater
Than one man’s valor or presumption.
Holier than Adam could undertake in rage,
Yet a young David found an “Amen”
Rising within his shepherd- breast,
Shielded by hope and faith
Born of a Savior,
Yet borne into battle
By the foal that carried Him forth.

All battles,
Waged for the souls of men,
Find common ground;
Friend and foe,
Dying side by side.
As grains numbered as the sand,
And the blood,
Bridle high at Armageddon,
Corpses piled and claiming
The best among us,
As generations of spent warriors’ might,
Trust to God
To judge the heart of every man,
And wear his colors in His raiment.

Memories, born as festering wounds,
Or toughened scars,
Mark the man and record the Passion.
No jot or tiddle forgotten,
Fingered on the ground,
Condemning only the Accurser.

Angels minister the balm of Gilead
As the dead live again,
And the living love
Through the Darkness.
Mended hearts,
Held to a measure,
Weighed on scales of Mercy.
Are blessed.
None forgotten,
All forgiven.

How long? How long?
Martyrs witness the passion of the warrior,
And place merited crown,
And victor’s wreathe,
As a new name resounds,
Pronounced by the Mouth of God.

©2012 Joann Nelander

 

 

Love’s Reach

I reach for You
With my life,
All my life.

It is not for naught,
That You labored,
Bore my sins.

I reach for You
With my thoughts.
In the night,
I contemplate Your Dying.

Writhing in agony,
Alone with hell’s phantoms,
Blood called
From Your flesh.
More than a drop
Spoke my name.

Here in the dark,
The echo resounds,
Scatters my foes.

I reach for You
With my heart,
All my heart.

The scourge,
The nails,
The Cross,
Crown Your life,
Given for my life.

You reach out,
Nailed to Your Cross,
Stretched across the ages.
I am but one
Who feels Your Pain.

Your Passion reaches me,
Saves my life,
All my life.

Copyright 2013 Joann Nelander

All rights reserved

You Looked Down

You looked down
From Your Cross
To behold faithfulness.
There stood Your Mother.

You beheld her look of grief,
Her suffering Your pain.
You wed it
To Your Own,
Presenting all
Before Our Father’s holy throne.

© 2013 Joann Nelander

Spiritual Communion

Come, my Lord, to this poor dwelling,
You are Lord of all, and heaven is at hand as You approach.
Come in Spirit to my humble abode.
At your coming, the angels make ready.
They spread their wings over Your Mercy Seat.

Come be enthroned here in my heart.
Allow the splendor of heaven
To scatter flowers along Your Way,
As You incline Your Heart
To one in misery for want of You.

I rejoice for You are here,
And in my embrace.
You are Now.
You are mine,
O my Beloved.

Heaven finds a home in my soul,
As You reign in my heart.
A river of Life pours forth,
As You water this garden,
And provide rich food and fruit,
For all who will partake.

copyright 2014 Joann Nelander

Passion-Deed

Lord, my tears are plentiful,
As I behold Thee in Thy rest.
Kneeling in poverty of spirit,
I am thrice blessed.

Your forever Union
With our Heavenly Father
Embraces me as the child,
That I am want to be,
Obedient, merciful and mild.

The Holy Spirit of God
Rests upon me,
Gifting me in sorrow for sin,
Raising me above the world,
And lifting me
To the lap of Abba Father,
With You, within.

Here in hallowed Presence,
My tears fall upon the garden,
You plant in my soul,
To water this consecrated plot
Replete with the promised fulfillment
That heals and makes me whole.

Already, but not yet,
Here in seed,
With You in Eternity,
Won by Cross and Passion-Deed.

©2012 Joann Nelander

Spiritual Communion

Come, my Lord, to this poor dwelling,
You are Lord of all, and heaven is at hand as You approach.
Come in Spirit to my humble abode,
At your coming, the angels make ready.
They spread their wings over Your Mercy Seat,

Come be enthroned here in my heart.
Allow the splendor of heaven to scatter flowers along Your Way,
As You incline, Your Heart
To one in misery for want of You.

I rejoice for You are here
And in my embrace.
Your are Now.
You are mine,
O my Beloved.

Heaven finds a home in my soul,
As You reign in my heart.
A river of Life pours forth,
As You water this garden,
And provide rich food and fruit,
For all who will partake.

© 2014 Joann Nelander

You Looked Down

You looked down
From Your Cross
To behold faithfulness.
There stood Your Mother.

You beheld her look of grief,
Her suffering Your pain.
You wed it
To Your Own,
Presenting all
Before Our Father’s holy throne.

© 2013 Joann Nelander

You Looked Down

You looked down
From Your Cross
To behold faithfulness.
There stood Your Mother.

You beheld her look of grief,
Her suffering Your pain.
You wed it
To Your Own,
Presenting all
Before Our Father’s holy throne.

© 2013 Joann Nelander

Love’s Reach

I reach for You
With my life,
All my life.

It is not for naught,
That You labored,
Bore my sins.

I reach for You
With my thoughts.
In the night,
I contemplate Your Dying.

Writhing in agony,
Alone with hell’s phantoms,
Blood called
From Your flesh.
More than a drop
Spoke my name.

Here in the dark,
The echo resounds,
Scatters my foes.

I reach for You
With my heart,
All my heart.

The scourge,
The nails,
The Cross,
Crown Your life,
Given for my life.

You reach out,
Nailed to Your Cross,
Stretched across the ages.
I am but one
Who feels Your Pain.

Your Passion reaches me,
Saves my life,
All my life.

© 2013 Joann Nelander

All rights reserved

At My Death

At my death,
My kind and loving Jesus,
Friend and Savior of my soul ,
See again and always
My Baptism,
By and in which I entered
Into Your Divine Life,
As humble and grateful partaker,
Becoming priest, prophet, and king,
By the Victory and Resurrection
That is Yours,
And I now share.

Here, the Life giving Water
Of Your Father’s Plan
And Will for me,
Invited me into Your Death,
That I might live,
Another Christ,
By and in His Only Begotten Son,
By the Will of the Most Holy Trinity.

I will with all my heart,
“Amen”
To all you have done for me
In Your Passion and Death.

May this New Life,
That is Your embrace
Of all my life,
Nailed to the Cross,
That is Your Death
And ransom for my life,
Breathe New Life
Into my soul eternally.

At my death
Take to Yourself,
Your Own.

©2013 Joann Nelander

All rights reserved

Good Friday of the Passion of Our Lord / DivineOffice.org

For an experience of the Liturgy of the Hours, the prayer of the Church, join in the praying of the hours for Good Friday at DivingOffice.org

Office of Readings for Friday of Holy Week

Standard Podcast [ 25:43 | 11.91 MB ] | Download

Good Friday of the Passion of Our Lord
“It was now about the sixth hour, and there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour, 45while the sun’s light failed; and the curtain of the temple was torn in two. 46Then Jesus, crying with a loud voice, said, ‘Father, into thy hands I commit my spirit!’” (Lk 23:44-46).

As Jesus died on the cross, all laws failed. Roman laws had accused an innocent man, natural laws had ceased to exist, and the moral law inherent in man’s own heart had crucified our Savior. As the centurion stated in Luke 23:47, “Certainly this man was innocent!”

As we continue in our reflection through Holy Week, today we must come to accept that justice may not exist in our cause. Things may not seem fair. It’s as if we must hold our breath… progress suspended.

Today’s paradox is we know a Godly commitment leads to good. We recognize that God is present with us as we strive to do His will. We have hope that new life will come; but today, unfortunately, can feel like a place without justice. Today, only the law of love remains.

Dolorous Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ

The following meditations will probably rank high among many similar works which the

contemplative love of Jesus has produced; but it is our duty here plainly to affirm that they

have no pretensions whatever to be regarded as history.

They are but intended to take one of

the lowest places among those numerous representations of the Passion which have been

given us by pious writers and artists, and to be considered at the very utmost as the Lenten

meditations of a devout nun, related in all simplicity, and written down in the plainest and

most literal language, from her own dictation. To these meditations, she herself never

attached more than a mere human value, and never related them except through obedience,

and upon the repeated commands of the directors of her conscience.

The writer of the following pages was introduced to this holy religious by Count Leopold

de Stolberg. (The Count de Stolberg is one of the most eminent converts whom the Catholic

Church has made from Protestantism. He died in 1819.)

PDF of the Dolorous Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ

The Sword that Divides

Distilling the homily of Monsignor Raun:

The Sword that Divides

The Passion of the Christ,
The sword that divides.

There are Christians,
And then there is Everybody else.

Everybody else sees
An ignominious,
Shameful,
And a meaningless death.

The Christian sees the eternal Christ,
Saving those He calls,
Kings, prophets and priests.

The sword, the Spirit and the Cross,
At the crossroad
Of Heaven and the World.
The people of God,
The Kingdom of God,
Called while yet sinners.

© Joann Nelander 2013
All rights reserved

Passion

Bloody sweat,
Pillar and scourge,
Bloody body,
Crown of thorn,
Bloody head,
Bloody face,
Hammer and nails,
Cross,
Bloody hands
Bloody feet,
Pain upon pain,
Thirst and abandonment,
Death and sword,
Broken heart,
Pierced heart,
Blood and Water,
All that Blood,
Washing me.

©2013 Joann Nelander
All rights reservedAll rights reserved

Veterans Day–Passion of a Warrior

When did his passion begin?
Did it commence with the kiss
By which he bid his loved ones adieu.
Or did the call to battle
Bid him count the cost,
Shattering vanities and proud hoorahs,
With winter ice
Through veins
Piercing to the marrow of bone.

The Call was always greater
Than one man’s valor or presumption.
Holier than Adam could undertake in rage,
Yet a young David found an “Amen”
Rising within his shepherd- breast,
Shielded by hope and faith
Born of a Savior,
Borne into battle
By the foal that carried Him forth.

All battles,
Waged for the souls of men,
Find common ground;
Friend and foe,
Dying side by side.
As grains numbered as the sand,
And the blood,
Bridle high at Armageddon,
Corpses piled and claiming
The best among us,
As generations of spent warriors’ might,
Trust to God
To judge the heart of every man,
And wear his colors in His raiment.

Memories, born as festering wounds,
Or toughened scars,
Mark the man and record the Passion.
No jot or tiddle forgotten,
Fingered on the ground,
Condemning only the Accuser.

Angels minister the balm of Gilead
As the dead live again,
And the living love
Through the Darkness.
Mended hearts,
Held to a measure,
Weighed on scales of Mercy.
Are blessed.
None forgotten,
All forgiven.

How long? How long?
Martyrs witness the passion of the warrior,
And place merited crown,
And victor’s wreathe,
As a new name resounds,
Pronounced by the Mouth of God.

©2012 Joann Nelander

 

Passion-Deed

Lord, my tears are plentiful,
As I behold Thee in Thy rest.
Kneeling in poverty of spirit,
I am thrice blessed.

Your forever Union
With our Heavenly Father
Embraces me as the child,
That I am want to be,
Obedient, merciful and mild.

The Holy Spirit of God
Rests upon me,
Gifting me in sorrow for sin,
Raising me above the world,
And lifting me
To the lap of Abba Father,
With You, within.

Here in hallowed Presence,
My tears fall upon the garden,
You plant in my soul,
To water this consecrated plot
Replete with the promised fulfillment
That heals and makes me whole.

Already, but not yet,
Here in seed,
With You in Eternity,
Won by Cross and Passion-Deed.

©2012 Joann Nelander

Burial Oil

Make of me an anointing oil
To be poured into the wounds
That bore my name.

Who am I,
How do You count me
In Your universe?
I am nothing,
A wisp,
Mere smoke
Clouding Your heavens,
And yet,
You mount Your Cross
For me.

For me,
The nails pierce Holy Flesh.
For me , You are lifted,
And the Cross
Crashed with Your pain
Into the ground
Over the bones
Of my First Parents,
A skull fittingly,
A remembrance of their Fall,
And our perduring Fault.

My tears flow with Mary’s.
My hair hides me
From hungry eyes,
That I may be for You,
Here in this place and time.

You thirst for me.
Now may I satisfy You,
By willing our union,
And embracing
My death in Yours.

Oil and comfort,
Comfort only
The dead can know,
To be shrouded away
Until the Day.

Copyright 2012 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved

 

This is the 29th week over at the  Poetry Picnic .  Drop in for a feast.

Passion of a Warrior

When did his passion begin?
Did it commence with the kiss
By which he bid his loved ones adieu.
Or did the call to battle
Bid him count the cost,
Shattering vanities and proud hoorahs,
With winter ice
Though veins,
Piercing to the marrow of bone.

The Call was always greater
Than one man’s valor or presumption.
Holier than Adam could undertake in rage,
Yet a young David found an “Amen”
Rising within his shepherd- breast,
Shielded by hope and faith
Born of a Savior,
Yet borne into battle
By the foal that carried Him forth.

All battles,
Waged for the souls of men,
Find common ground,
Friend and foe,
Dying side by side,
As grains numbered as the sand,
And blood bridle high
At Armageddon,
Corpses piled and claiming
The best among us,
As generations of spent warriors’ might,
Trust to God
To judge the heart of every man,
And wear his colors in His raiment.

Memories, borne as festering wounds,
Or toughened scars,
Mark the man and record the Passion.
No jot or tiddle forgotten,
Fingered on the ground,
Condemning only the Accurser.

Angels minister the balm of Gilead
As the dead live again,
And the living love
Through the Darkness.
Mended hearts,
Held to a measure,
Weighed on scales of Mercy.
Are blessed.
None forgotten,
All forgiven.

How long? How long?
Martyrs witness the passion of the warrior,
And place merited crown,
And victor’s wreathe,
As a new name resounds,
Pronounced by the Mouth of God.

©2012 Joann Nelander
Poetry for Wounded Warriors, Visit the

Poetry Picnic week 25

Walking in the Fire

“They walked about in the flames singing to God.”

My will is to sing to You,

To walk in Your fire.

Your love is a mighty flame,

Alive with its purifying blaze.

Help me be as You are,

Pleasing in Your obedience.

 

© 2011 Joann Nelander

The Church Conformed to Your Passion

Jesus Passions, Holy Monastery of Stavronikita...

Image via Wikipedia

Psalm-prayer for this day from the Office of Readings:

Lord Jesus, you foretold that we would share in the persecutions that brought you to a violent death. The Church formed at the cost of your precious blood is even now conformed to your Passion; may it be transformed, now and eternally, by the power of your resurrection.

The Eucharist is the Lord’s Passover

From a treatise by Saint Gaudentius of Brescia, bishop

The Eucharist is the Lord’s Passover

One man has died for all, and now in every church in the mystery of bread and wine he heals those for whom he is offered in sacrifice, giving life to those who believe and holiness to those who consecrate the offering. This is the flesh of the Lamb; this is his blood. The bread that came down from heaven declared: The bread that I will give is my flesh for the life of the world. It is significant, too, that his blood should be given to us in the form of wine, for his own words in the gospel, I am the true vine, imply clearly enough that whenever wine is offered as a representation of Christ’s passion, it is offered as his blood. This means that it was of Christ that the blessed patriarch Jacob prophesied when he said: He will wash his tunic in wine and his cloak in the blood of the grape. The tunic was our flesh, which Christ was to put on like a garment and which he was to wash in his own blood.

Creator and Lord of all things, whatever their nature, he brought forth bread from the earth and changed it into his own body. Not only had he the power to do this, but he had promised it; and, as he had changed water into wine, he also changed wine into his own blood. It is the Lord’s passover, Scripture tells us, that is, the Lord’s passing. We are no longer to look upon the bread and wine as earthly substances. They have become heavenly, because Christ has passed into them and changed them into his body and blood. What you receive is the body of him who is the heavenly bread, and the blood of him who is the sacred vine; for when he offered his disciples the consecrated bread and wine, he said: This is my body, this is my blood. We have put our trust in him. I urge you to have faith in him; truth can never deceive.

When Christ told the crowds that they must eat his flesh and drink his blood, they were horrified and began to murmur among themselves: This teaching is too hard; who can be expected to listen to it? As I have already told you, thoughts such as these must be banished. The Lord himself used heavenly fire to drive them away by going on to declare: It is the spirit that gives life; the flesh is of no avail. The words that I have spoken to you are spirit and life.

Heart’s Desire

Here I am to worship,
Here I am to bow down,
Here I am to say that You’re my God
You’re altogether lovely
All together worthy,
All together wonderful to me

Lyrics from Here I Am to Worship by Tim Hughs

Who Are You In The Passion of Christ?

Fr.Celsus repeatedly and passionately asked, “Who are you in the story?”

He said that if you are church and this is your story, you must be in it. Who are you? Are you Pilate, who knows the truth and yet rejects it out of fear to chose and serve the world? Are you the good thief on the cross, condemned for sins you really did commit? Are you John, the Beloved Disciple, standing with Mary, the Mother of Jesus? Who are you in the story?

From a homily by Saint Gregory Nazianzen,

We are soon going to share in the Passover

We are soon going to share in the Passover, and although we still do so only in a symbolic way, the symbolism already has more clarity than it possessed in former times because, under the law, the Passover was, if I may dare to say so, only a symbol of a symbol. Before long, however, when the Word drinks the new wine with us in the kingdom of his Father, we shall be keeping the Passover in a yet more perfect way, and with deeper understanding. He will then reveal to us and make clear what he has so far only partially disclosed. For this wine, so familiar to us now, is eternally new.

It is for us to learn what this drinking is, and for him to teach us. He has to communicate this knowledge to his disciples, because teaching is food, even for the teacher.

So let us take our part in the Passover prescribed by the law, not in a literal way, but according to the teaching of the Gospel; not in an imperfect way, but perfectly; not only for a time, but eternally. Let us regard as our home the heavenly Jerusalem, not the earthly one; the city glorified by angels, not the one laid waste by armies. We are not required to sacrifice young bulls or rams, beasts with horns and hoofs that are more dead than alive and devoid of feeling; but instead, let us join the choirs of angels in offering God upon his heavenly altar a sacrifice of praise. We must now pass through the first veil and approach the second, turning our eyes toward the Holy of Holies. I will say more: we must sacrifice ourselves to God, each day and in everything we do, accepting all that happens to us for the sake of the Word, imitating his passion by our sufferings, and honoring his blood by shedding our own. We must be ready to be crucified.

If you are a Simon of Cyrene, take up your cross and follow Christ. If you are crucified beside him like one of the thieves, now, like the good thief, acknowledge your God. For your sake, and because of your sin, Christ himself was regarded as a sinner; for his sake, therefore, you must cease to sin. Worship him who was hung on the cross because of you, even if you are hanging there yourself. Derive some benefit from the very shame; purchase salvation with your death. Enter paradise with Jesus, and discover how far you have fallen. Contemplate the glories there, and leave the other scoffing thief to die outside in his blasphemy.

If you are a Joseph of Arimathea, go to the one who ordered his crucifixion, and ask for Christ€™s body. Make your own the expiation for the sins of the whole world. If you are a Nicodemus, like the man who worshipped God by night, bring spices and prepare Christ€™s body for burial. If you are one of the Marys, or Salome, or Joanna, weep in the early morning. Be the first to see the stone rolled back, and even the angels perhaps, and Jesus himself.

The Passion – True Reverence

From a sermon by Saint Leo the Great, pope

Contemplating the Lord’s passion

True reverence for the Lord’s passion means fixing the eyes of our heart on Jesus crucified and recognising in him our own humanity.
The earth – our earthly nature – should tremble at the suffering of its Redeemer. The rocks – the hearts of unbelievers – should burst asunder. The dead, imprisoned in the tombs of their mortality, should come forth, the massive stones now ripped apart. Foreshadowings of the future resurrection should appear in the holy city, the Church of God: what is to happen to our bodies should now take place in our hearts.
No one, however weak, is denied a share in the victory of the cross. No one is beyond the help of the prayer of Christ. His prayer brought benefit to the multitude that raged against him. How much more does it bring to those who turn to him in repentance.
Ignorance has been destroyed, obstinacy has been overcome. The sacred blood of Christ has quenched the flaming sword that barred access to the tree of life. The age-old night of sin has given place to the true light.
The Christian people are invited to share the riches of paradise. All who have been reborn have the way open before them to return to their native land, from which they had been exiled. Unless indeed they close off for themselves the path that could be opened before the faith of a thief.
The business of this life should not preoccupy us with its anxiety and pride, so that we no longer strive with all the love of our heart to be like our Redeemer, and to follow his example. Everything that he did or suffered was for our salvation: he wanted his body to share the goodness of its head.
First of all, in taking our human nature while remaining God, so that the Word became man, he left no member of the human race, the unbeliever excepted, without a share in his mercy. Who does not share a common nature with Christ if he has welcomed Christ, who took our nature, and is reborn in the Spirit through whom Christ was conceived?
Again, who cannot recognise in Christ his own infirmities? Who would not recognise that Christ’s eating and sleeping, his sadness and his shedding of tears of love are marks of the nature of a slave?
It was this nature of a slave that had to be healed of its ancient wounds and cleansed of the defilement of sin. For that reason the only-begotten Son of God became also the son of man. He was to have both the reality of a human nature and the fullness of the godhead.
The body that lay lifeless in the tomb is ours. The body that rose again on the third day is ours. The body that ascended above all the heights of heaven to the right hand of the Father’s glory is ours. If then we walk in the way of his commandments, and are not ashamed to acknowledge the price he paid for our salvation in a lowly body, we too are to rise to share his glory. The promise he made will be fulfilled in the sight of all: Whoever acknowledges me before men, I too will acknowledge him before my Father who is in heaven.

Divine Mercy Chaplet with Passion

Pray the Divine Mercy Chaplet at the 3 o’clock  Hour of Mercy