Tag Archives: cross


Loving our enemies

The perfection of brotherly love lies in the love of one’s enemies –Saint Aelred of Rievaulx, Abbot

In college, my Christology professor asked the class, “Do you think you will see Hitler in heaven?”

It was a trick question, but a number of my fellow students fell for it. “No,” they shouted, indignant that he would suggest something so horrific.

“But what if Hitler, at the very end of his life, repented?” the professor asked.


If God is love (1 John 4:8), then God’s mercy is limitless and certainly not constrained by our sense of who is deserving of God’s love and who is not. No matter how heinous someone’s crimes were, there is always the opportunity to repent and receive God’s mercy.Vulnerability-forgiveness-Lent“Who could listen to that wonderful prayer, so full of warmth, of love, of unshakable serenity—Father, forgive them—and hesitate to embrace his enemies with overflowing love?” (Mirror of Love by Saint Aelred, abbot.) I think Saint Aelred was onto something when he encouraged his brothers to look at how Jesus forgave those who put him to death.The very night that Jesus was betrayed, he gave thanks—and the next day, he asked God to forgive those who did him harm.

Being grateful and forgiving in the face of betrayal might seem to be the kind of thing only the Son of God could do, but…

Who of us does not want to be forgiven when we betray someone we love? When we make a poor decision that has unintended negative consequences? Who of us wants to be separated from our communities? Unforgiven? Unforgivable?Vulnerability-forgiveness-LentI can tend to be more like Jonah than Jesus—wanting God to carry out his threats of punishment on people who are living in sin. Jonah was angry at God for relenting in his promised punishment of the people of Ninevah.  He felt betrayed by God; he was humiliated and he sulked. But he did not die from any of that.

Pamela Holderman

I wonder if Jonah ever came to a place where he gave thanks for God’s mercy. I wonder if he ever came to see his own betraying ways and was grateful that our God is merciful to everyone.

When Jesus was betrayed, it literally cost him his life, which makes my having been betrayed pale in comparison. I survived the times I have been betrayed and maybe even grew from them.

Lent invites me to reflect on my attitudes toward forgiveness.

Thinking of how quickly Jesus was able to let go of being betrayed, of how he could give thanks when he knew he was on his way to the cross, invites me to do the same—to turn around and give thanks and blessing when I have been hurt.

I imagine that Jesus had spent his life being grateful and forgiving—he had been practicing. The invitation to me is to practice letting go of betrayals, hurts and disappointments and readjusting my expectations of myself and others.




On Retreat with the Taize Brothers

“…and whenever anyone who had been bitten by a serpent looked at the bronze serpent, he lived.”

(Numbers 21:9).

We celebrated the Exaltation of the Cross at Mass last Sunday, and I was assigned to read from Chapter 21 of the Book of Numbers. During the days leading up to Mass, I prayed with the reading, preparing to be the lector, and I was reminded of a retreat I had attended about thirty years ago.

At the time, I was working at a Lutheran Church in Philadelphia. One of the parishioners had visited the Taize community in France and when he returned to the States, he had connected with the Taize brothers living in New York City. He arranged for the brothers to lead a Palm Sunday weekend retreat at a retreat center in rural Maryland.

I had been to Taize prayer services in Philadelphia—one hour, once a week—and looked forward to spending an extended time in prayer with the brothers. It was a unique opportunity to spend three days with these prayerful men, and I was deeply grateful.

On Palm Sunday, we listened to the Passion of Jesus and then spent some time in prayer at the foot of a large, wooden cross. Each of us was then invited to approach and lay our burdens at the foot of the cross. We each had a symbol which represented our hurts, sins, regrets—whatever it was that kept us from responding to the love Jesus showed by dying on the cross—and we were to place that token at the foot of the cross.

We had no time constraints and were free to approach the cross when we were ready and in whatever way was comfortable for us. Some hugged the cross, some sat and cried. It was a compelling sight—these people I knew humbling themselves at the foot of the cross.

I, too, approached the cross and imagined myself leaving my burdens with Jesus, wanting to believe that he would pick them up and carry them for me.

The very act of laying down what had held power over me and then turning my back on it reminded me that I have a choice—I can continue to hold onto something, let it control me, or I can just drop it at Jesus’ feet and walk away.

The idea was freeing, and the action helped me experience that freedom.

That image has stayed with me, and at different times over the years, I have visualized myself leaving my burdens at the foot of the cross. Each time, I grow in trust that Jesus accepts them and accepts me.