One of my favorite things about being Catholic is the liturgical calendar. Specifically because we do the same things each year it's a small way to recognize my growth, based on my thoughts and my feelings, rather than inches on a door frame.
Ironically enough it was the non-denominational Church I was attending before converting that hinted back to this. Specifically their Good Friday service. It was there, for the first time, I recognized my posture to Jesus on the cross. I think we all want to believe we are John, Mary or Magdalene distraught at the foot. Not one of the other apostles dispersed, denying or betraying.
Or worse...
At the foot of the cross, I find myself more often than not a mocker in the crowd or the other thief, shouting "if you really are Christ prove it..."
I had never fully embraced this about myself or heard anyone admit that's where we sometimes sit. So you might imagine how surprised I was finding myself in the middle of the gospel reading at Mass on Palm Sunday shouting:
“Let him be crucified!”
"His blood be on us, and on our children."
"Hail, king of the Jews!"
“You who would destroy the temple and build it in three days,
save yourself! If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross.”
“Wait, let us see whether Elijah will come to save him.”
Knowing those closest to Jesus didn't find themselves at the foot of the cross either. There is something honest in saying these things out loud. Something soul wringing and comforting that my salvation isn't worked out in one moment but over and over again when the love of Christ on the cross shines in the darkest places of my heart. There is something human about struggling and failing, finding Jesus on the cross and getting back up again. Rather than acting as if I have it all together because "it is finished". We are not forgotten, we are called back to Him again and again in the question He asks Peter. "Do you love me?"
I do.
I will fail to.
I will confess.
I will try again.
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