Below the cross


(» c>

'V*'*

...

.

.

»

4!i

pcoWa.e7j<2x . OHcU^r

^ CroSS^
'/^U 73js_

K:ig

*r*.:;

-V*

piC*:

•••!vV* .

g
v'-*.

;\V

i*
?•::•:•:

£;.*•
:•::•

r-
t:

^Most Reverend Ottokar Prohaszka

TRANSLATED BY M. DE. PAL



*5



Below The Cross

by

M. DE PAL

No. 116

Second Edition, 1 0,000

January 20, 1955

Published in the U. S. A.

By

OUR SUNDAY VISITOR PRESS
Huntington, Indiana



Nihil Obstat:

REV. EDWARD A. MILLER

Censor Librorum

Imprimatur:

JOHN FRANCIS NOLL, D.D.

Archbishop, Bishop of Fort Wayne

Deaddlsdi



Selected Reading from the Book:

"MEDITATIONS ON THE GOSPELS"

By Bishop Ottokar Prohaszka

Authorized Translation from

the Hungarian by M. De Pal

New Edition, three volumes in one.

$ 5.50

Newman Press, Westminster, Maryland.

-o

"This book will reach and stimulate the

intelligence of all. Not only will it move

the heart, it will reach the mind."

—

The

Voice, St. Mary's Seminary, Baltimore, Mary-

land.



Below the Cross
DELOW the cross. There I stand by my-

self ... in the spell of God’s infinite
love. My soul is seized with mercy and
deep emotion of adoration. Tears spring

to mv eves. I would bend mv head but
* m #

the cross draws me on and compels me
to look upon it: for “they look upon me
and weep” ... is what He promises.

(a) What have we given Thee, Oh Lord,
Thee W~hom we ought to have loved and
adored? Thou earnest to earth and Thou
wert confined in a cave. Hardly wert Thou
bora before Thou wert compelled to flee to
Egypt. Thou then didst wear the guise of
.a carpenter. We once went to meet Thee
with palm branches and Thou didst weep.
Once didst Thou entrust Thvself to us and
we chose Barabbas. Once we wished to
wind Thee a wTeath and we made it of
thorns. One picture w*e took of Thee and
it is the “Ecco Homo” which wTas left to
us. Thy mother became the Sorrowdful
Mother. Once Thou asked a drink of us
and we handed Thee vinegar. Oh, w7ho
would have believed that this should be
Thy fate amongst us, and that such should
be Thy wyav on earth?
And now* Thou art hanging here like a

statue of prayer. With outspread arms
and open lips Thou criest for mercy. Thou
hast prayed on many mountains but Thy
prayer said on this Mount is the cry of
eternal “Interpellation.’' In the night of the



BELOW THE CROSS 5

infinite, great God the supplication froze
upon Thy lips. Great and holy is the Lord
Who did not pardon even His own Son
. . .! In what terrible sublimity the cross
announces this: Men, fear God and love
Christ. This is what He cries out to you,
cries it to final exhaustion. Oh, if ever,

hear His word now, hear it today! He begs
us to guard and treasure our soul.

(b) Upon this naked figure the only
“ornament/’ the crown of thorns deeply
touches us. He started out as betrothed,
as hero, therefore crown and wreath befit
Him. He struggled for the wreath and
this is what He received. Instead of glory
and love they crowned Him with the
wreath of hatred . . .What a curse: this
is the curse of sin, hell and hatred. And
He took all this upon Himself so that no
harm should come to us. Christ wound a
wreath of all the curses meant for the world
so as to take them upon His head. Crown
of thorns, briar-bush burning in the wilder-

ness, the fire of immensely sweet and
strong love bums, flames, and darts up in
Thee . . .

Here also we hear the words: Holy is
the ground upon which Thou standest;
take off the sandals of Thy feet! Oh how
holy is this ground! And this our Moses
does not shrink from the mission of re-
deeming His people, but He bends His
thorn-crowned head below the holy will of



6 BELOW THE CROSS

God and the holy law of sacrifice. Thou,
oh crucified Lord Jesus, art our briar-bush,
pale-red and sweet are Thy roses, Thy
holy wounds, but upon the cross they are
indeed full of thorns! Thorns as well as
beauty are needed so that the soul should
blossom forth.

(c) The blessing and strength of Jesus’
blood is deep holy mystery,

c

mysterium

fidei
”

It broke His heart and shed its last
drop of blood and “the house was filled
with perfume of balm,” the heavens and
the earth were filled with it and more es-
pecially the Church. Upon its altar stands
the Grail Cup of His Holy Blood! One
drop, oh Lord, give us only one drop! This
fiery blood, this blood of fire burns out

poison, agony, sin, death! Every drop of
it induces eternal spring to break forth

from our soul. This sweet blood quench-

es thirst! It shines upon our brow as kindly
anointment which the angel of vengeance
and massacre avoids. Upon the lips this
blood is divine sweetness and eternal smile.
In the heart it is the blood of heroes. What
would we be without Thee, sweet, divine
blood? What a curse would weigh upon
us and overshadow us if Thy blood were
not upon us and our brethren? When
we go to confession, we wash our soul in
this blood. This is what we receive when
we communicate, and its fire glows upon
our face.



Jesus Prays for

His Enemies
And Jesus said: “Father, forgive them, for

they know not what they do.” (Luke 23,
34).

(a) This is the prayer of the interceding

Jesus! He looks along the howling, ungrate-
ful crowd, and the crowd appears to Him
infinitely miserable. The shortsighted, dull-
spirited mob whirls around like a ser-
pent’s nest, like worms in the dust and
mud, and above them this soaring Seraph,
Who begs for the mercy of God and says:
“Father . . .!” Audacious word! The first
word of Christ upon the cross. Surrounded
by so much bitterness and cruelty His
sweet, strong soul finds the appropriate

word, “Father.”

Thy Son am I, different am I. I take
and receive my emotions from Thy heart
and not from the mud of the earth. Thy
soul, not the blood which demands ven-
geance and embitters itself, speaks out of
me: Forgive them! They are in need of
it, being unspeakably worthless. Forgive
them! Grant that the greatness of my soul
lift them out of their dwarfishness and
that with my divine feelings they recover
from their beast-like instincts!

(b) “They know not what they do” Be-
low the cross this is clear to us. They



B BELOW THE CROSS

know not what they do, in what darkness
of night they stand, and how far from
God they are. They do not know it, al-
though they have deserved it. They turn-
ed away from the sun and drew a manifold
midnight after them by their coldness, in-
difference, prejudice, and hate. Oh Lord,
forgive them and overwhelm them with
pure, noble, bountiful emotions. Let Thy
truth penetrate their heart. Through hate
and strife the soul never finds the way to
God, for it is a lowly, shallow, impetuous,
vile one-sided soul. It tends to enmity in

itself and does not comprehend the Sub-
lime. When we sin and deny the Lord
for passion and instinct, we also prove
to be insane. To sin against the sublime
God is wicked madness. This is what we
want to keep before our eyes. Then we
will know what we are doing.

(c) Jesus told us several times what God
is to us. Glorified by Peter, He said in the
circle of His disciples: Not flesh and blood
have revealed this to thee that I am the
Son of God, but “my Father.” He taught
them how to pray and said: Ye are to pray
this way: Our Father. Glorified in the re-
surrection of Lazarus, He said: “Father,
I give Thee thanksI” When bidding them
farewell He disclosed to His disciples the
vista of eternal glory with the words: “I go

to my Father.” In the Garden of Olives,
down on His knees, and twice upon the



BFLOW THE CROSS 9

cross. He announces that God is His Fa-
ther—here and now, in suffering and in
death. He is His Father. Once He speaks
for us “Father, forgive them” . . . Then
He speaks for Himself: “My Father, into
Thy hands do I offer my soul.” When we
suffer, when we are persecuted, then this
is also our prayer and our joy: Father, Fa-
ther!

The Sorrowful Mother
(a) Jesus trusts in His cross, He trusts

that He will move man, for in His suffer-
ing deep sources of emotion open: one of

these is His Mother. However we appraise
the suffering of our Lord, the most as-
tounding feature,, which augments the
tragedy to the infinite, is “His Mother.”

She goes on His Way of the Cross. This
Way of the Cross is also a funeral proces-
sion; “His Mother” goes to this funeral.
But it is also the procession of shame, dis-
dain, and curse, and “His Mother,” the
woman He loved, goes too. Imagine what
a darkness fell upon her soul in the night
of hate and disdain! How blasphemy and
curse rent her heart and how her lips kept
repeating His sweet name in the bitter,
cruel world: Jesus, my Son! The love of
God did not shrink from leading this
sweetest soul on this way of agony and
shame. The love of God demands sacrifice



10 BELOW THE CROSS

and perseverance to the end. This is hard-
ly understood by those who imagine love
to be only sweet. Let us love, let us make
sacrifices!

(b) “And the people stood beholding,
and . . . derided him . . .” (Luke 23, 35).
But someone else also stood there, who was
immersed in deep pain below the gallows
of her Son—“His Mother,” to whom all this
mocking was a glorious, sharp dagger.
There she stood . . . Oh, where has she
come to since the time the Holy Ghost de-
scended upon her, since she heard the
Gloria in Bethlehem! Where are the holy
kings who were led by the star of heaven
to her Son resting in her lap, the kings who
represented the homage of nations? Look,
oh Mother, what homage, what a feast!
Where is the house in* which the Infant
prayed, Nazareth, the realization of “God
with us?” God with us, now also, here also,
here too? Yes, the Lord leads “His Hand-
maiden” amidst joy and bitterness, and the
Maiden faithfully follows the Lord, faith-
fully in shame, misery, doubt, and denial.
She is faithful, she believes, she has faith,

and she loves. Come here all of ye, learn to
believe, learn to stand your ground in the

midst of apostasy and decadence!

(c) “. . . Jesus . . . saith to his mother:

Woman, behold thy son” (John 19, 26).
Jesus takes farewell: God be with thee, oh
Mother! Thou, who hast laid me into the



BELOW THE CROSS 11

crib, lay me in the grave. Thou, who hast
put me into swaddling clothes, put me in-
to funeral shrouds. Thou, who hast placed
a kiss upon the shining eyes of the child,
Thou shalt close my eyes. The world roars
and rejoices. Receive my disciple to be
thy son.

The Holy Virgin looks up to her Son:
Farewell, God be with Thee My Son, the
light of mine eyes; go into Thy kingdom!—
is how she prays. Now it is our turn to con-
sole the Holy Virgin, for we love her and
partake of her agonies; we belong to her.
She turns to us in her pain. It is evening,

spring evening below the gallows; the
earth shines in April pomp, the perfume of
the olive trees and the breath of the palms
sways along the mount of the skulls, there
the sorrowful Mother stands, the wife of
the carpenter. Great as the ocean is her

misery!

Holy well of love. Holy Virgin, let the
sorrow of thy soul be also mine! I love thee,
sorrowful mother of my soul. I trust thee,
for with the pain of Good Friday I also
am written into thy soul. If thou canst not
forget that, thou wilt not forget me either!
Oh Jesus, I trust! The faith with which we
may trustingly approach Thy heart, we
derive from Thy Mother!



The Agony of Love
(a) We often view the historical Christ.

We go with Him, chiefly with the mem-
ories of His hard days, the dark Maunday
Thursday and Good Friday strifes. We feel
the same emotion; we comprehend His
longing, His faintness, His worries and
agony . . . opposite the heartless, cruel,
dreadfully filthy and loathsome world. We
understand the sorrow until death . . . and
also these cruel words: “This your hour,

is the power of darkness.” We are deeply
sorry for the striving, praying, sorrowful

man! We best comprehend this deep sor-
row if we imagine in what way He looks
upon sinful, heartless, ungrateful souls . . .
upon His perishing work . . . upon the
ruins of His creation . . .

What else ought I have done? is His
plaint. Behold, how He turns to me and
begs for compassion: Remember my pov-
erty . . . He is the

“
pauper servus et humilis

...” in this cruel fate ... in this night

... in the clashing of these beast-like pas-
sions. That is why the “tristis imago” be-
comes carved into our soul. The kerchief
of Veronica becomes the veil of our face;
it is through that veil that we see the
world.

Pity makes us approach Him; harmony
collects the sum total of suffering into the
temperament of faithfulness and zeal: I



BELOW THE CROSS 13

comprehend Thee, Oh Lord, I am near
Thee.

“
Tecum usque cruciari, parva vis

doloris est, malo mori quam foedari, major
vis amoris est

”
Thy poverty. Thy drink

of gall. Thy bouquet of myrrh are mine
also; the crown of thorns already entwines
two hearts: Thine and mine. I might say:
cruel fate; no matter; thus it has to be,

thus in this way . . . this is the fate of
the soul in which there is spirit; this is
the soul’s bridal dowry, this is its passion-

ate communion, its sweet taint, and when
we suffer together with Christ we whisper
to ourselves: Behold, now I possess what
I dreamt of that I wished to suffer with
Him, this now is my sweet fate ... let me
enjoy it!

(b) Let us view Christ now . . . Oh, how
sad storms and suffering rack me, how the
horizon of my soul becomes overshadowed
. . . how its churches and altars give way
. . . how its life fades, when I see Christ
here and now, here in His work, in this
dying Christianity . . . when I view this
sad, mourning Christly inheritance . . .
when here and now I see that sorrowful
anger . . . that bitter, cruel ocean, that

eternal night ... Here, here I stand now
instead of Christ; here I strive and weep
instead of Him, here I stand and break
down and fall.

Great is my agony and longing for Thy
love, Oh Lord Jesus! For—till I render the



14 BELOW THE CROSS

sowing wind of the soul fresh with the
breath of my heart, till I turn the dust of
the road to fertile soil with my tears, till
I change the polar frost of souls into spring,

till then I shall have need of many pray-
ers, supplications, and much enthusiasm.
But this is my joy; it is joy to know that
I suffer upon the same cross as Thou and
that the same scourging tears me as Thou
hast received. It is my bliss and joy to
know that the bleeding lips which I adore
are kissing my soul.

(c) Christ completely for me. The deep-
er I dive into my agony and the more in-
timately I experience the agony of Him
Who is the hope of my soul: the more
deeply He allows me to glance into His
soul and into His psychology, and I feel as
if the attention of my agony would slowly
turn elsewhere; as if I would forget this
ungrateful, ugly world . . . and forget the
distress. It is as if the world would be
wiped out from my consciousness and I
were left alone with my cross, with my
Christ, and as if I would not refer the
agony to the world but to myself and see
its cause not in others but in myself.

Jesus looks upon me and His glance
opens the view for me in which view I see
that it is I who am that world. What
world? It is a collective name, a generaliza-
tion . . . you, you, you, that I, I myself am
this agony, the cause of this suffering. Not



BELOW THE CROSS 15

for others but for me His blood is being
shed . . . this stony way is my life's way,
which is the Way of Christ's Cross; the cal-
umny, blame, and mockery surged towards
Him from out of my soul, the thorny
thistles were gathered on the field of my
misery ... I hear it: He loved me and
handed Himself over to me ... it is for
my sins that they wounded Him.

I, I, me, for me, for me . . . My sin has
caused Christ's entire agonies, my infertile
soul thirsted for the whole blood of Christ

. . . it dreadfully cried after it. Oh, if I
awake to the consciousness of this cry,
this cruel God-murdering cry, which
echoed from my soul ... if I look into
this abyss of evil for which God has placed
the cross up there as a warning-post, then
I become stunned ... I am shaken. All
the blood of Christ and all His agony is
for me, for me; He gave it all for me, so
that my sins should be forgiven, that I
should be able to love, to become purified,
that I should be able to rejoice and to
hope, that I should be able to come to-
wards Him with a crown of myrtle on my
head, with palm branch in my hand, that
He might embrace me and hold me to His
Heart . . .

Oh, now I understand! But what will
happen to the rest? Quid ad te? Let this
not disturb me. The depth of love forgets
everything and hands itself over complete-



16 BELOW THE CROSS

ly; see, I have completely given myself

to Thee. For Thyself alone. And the
blessed Jesus comes towards me and bends
over me; I cannot go out of His way.
Where should I go to? I cannot ask any-
one else to hold this trembling, sweet body
... I cannot bend my head ... I cannot
lower mine eyes; it is in my soul that His
last glance breaks and in His kiss He
breathes His soul upon me; “It is for thee,
for thee that I have lived and died,” He
says. Therefore, in return, we have to live
for Christ and to die for Christ with love
equal to that of martyrs.