The Abuse He Endured: Our Medicine


            This last week, I heard an audio recording of Archbishop (hopefully, soon to be Blessed) Fulton J. Sheen. In his talk on the humanity of Christ, he said, “God took his own medicine.” He was referring to Jesus in this statement. Jesus, the God-Man, who is the Great Physician, took his own medicine that he prescribed to the human race. What was that medicine? It was, and is, love itself.
            “By his wounds, you have been healed,” reads St. Peter’s first epistle. (2:24) The context of the verse, must not be ignored. St. Peter is writing to Christians to endure suffering patiently, while doing good in Christ. He is asking them to remember Christ’s sufferings. More than that, he writes in the beginning of the same passage, “For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you should follow in his footsteps. (1 Pet. 2:21 NRSVCE)”
            Here is the medicine in raw form: “Love one another as I have loved you. (John 13:34)” To his disciples, Jesus laid out the prescription in the new commandment. It is not an easy pill to swallow, and it certainly can’t be sugar coated. Logically, if we deny and ignore the medicine that we are to take ourselves for our healing, then we end up denying the same medicine that the Lord himself took (not for his healing, but for ours). I mean, as said the last post, “We cannot have Christ without the Cross.” Impossible.
            We cannot have love, mercy, justice, peace, hope, or healing for others or for ourselves if will not take up the cross ourselves. And Jesus, who is love itself and is the pioneer of our faith (Heb. 12:2), endured the cross to make the way for us. By accepting his Spirit in our baptisms, we have received the new life. That life is the life of love. True love means to do exactly what Christ did for us – to lay down his life for his friends.
            Christ lived as a human, tempted just as we are. Yet, he endured in obedience even to the point of a humiliating death on a cross. Christ lived in the flesh, taking on disabilities, diseases, demons and death itself. He was betrayed by his best friends, his chosen allies. They would not even keep company with him, while he sweat blood in anxious foresight of suffering. He was abandoned by them in the dead of night. He endured slanders and false accusations. He endured a brutal and near-mortal flogging. He was crushed under the weight of someone pressing a crown of thorns into his scalp, to the bone. He endured mocking, spitting, punches and blows, blasphemies, insults, and complete humiliation. Then, in almost complete exhaustion, he willingly carried his cross as commanded to the place of his own torture at the hands of Roman guards. Finally, he died in great agony, while even a criminal beside him, dying a similar, torturous and humiliating death, still had the pride to mock that innocent Christ.
            Now, imagine this terrible scene: In the midst of one of his best friends and his own mother, who is also enduring a great martyrdom (Luke 2:35) at the sight of her own son’s humiliation, torture and death-sentence … in the midst of women crying out of compassion and men screaming out of anger and hatred at him … while his flesh is torn over his back and arms, while his eye is swollen shut from blows, while his blood is spilled on the ground, while his sweat mingles with that blood, while his clothes have been stolen and his near nakedness revealed, while his heart breaks for compassion on poor, ill, and forgotten sinners, he looks at you under the weight of the cross itself, too heavy to carry alone. He says, “For you. I love you. Be healed. Follow me.”

            “Follow me.”

            “Love covers a multitude of sins. (1 Pet. 4:8)” “[…] Jesus also suffered outside the city gate in order to sanctify the people by his own blood. Let us then go to him outside the camp and bear the abuse he endured. (Heb. 13:12,13 NRSVCE)”
            Herein lies our complete and unimaginable healing. First, we are sanctified by his blood, washed clean, forgiven. Secondly, we are called to follow him in that perfect love, for God and for others. We are to walk in Christ’s footsteps, to give up our wills for the perfect will of God, which is always one of love. We are to pour out our lives as a living sacrifice of love for the people in our lives. This is what it means to be a saint.
It begins with the little things. It begins with the smiles, even when we don’t feel like it, like Blessed Mother Teresa used to tell us. It begins with the kind moments of generosity. It begins with the moments of keeping our mouths shut in silence, even when we are slandered or falsely accused. It begins in having mercy on others, even when they sin against us. It begins with performing our duties, even when tired. It begins, too, in a small prayer of thanksgiving to God despite any circumstances. For God is good, and he earnestly desires our healing and our peace.
           
            If you are reading this on the Feast of Corpus Christi (the Feast of the Body and Blood of Christ), or you are to attend Mass soon, remember these things. Meditate on what it means for Christ to give you his precious, precious Body and Blood. He gave up his life, so that you may have it. And it is present, right there, in the Eucharist. He is Jesus, our Lord and our God. He is love.


Soul of Christ, sanctify me.
Body of Christ, save me.
Blood of Christ, inebriate me.
Water from the side of Christ, wash me.
Passion of Christ, strengthen me.
O good Jesus, hear me.
Within Thy wounds, hide me.
Separated from Thee let me never be.
From the malignant enemy, defend me.
At the hour of death, call me.
To come to Thee, bid me,
That I may praise Thee in the company
Of Thy Saints, for all eternity.

Amen. +


For some Scripture meditation, I encourage you to read Hebrews 12 and 13, as well as 1 Peter, especially chapters 1 and 2.

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