Explore our joys and our wounds of love
Jesus is condemned to death
Oh solitude. Everywhere around me, hatred. Bombs everywhere. Everywhere there are wars and forced exiles. 24 hours a day in television sets, the howl of sirens, the crash of explosions. Families torn apart everywhere. Sprayed.
So many ruins in place of the splendor of Creation. So many crimes and tears of blood. Oh solitude. What have we done with our heritage and our humanity?
Hurricanes are rising everywhere. The earth itself, barren and parched, cries out. Fear rushes into our homes and under our beds and into the fear of our children. What did we do to get here? (see corresponding photo on cover).
Jesus is loaded with his cross
Weigh the caress that you no longer give me. Weigh my sadness that you refuse to see. Weigh your absence, your infidelity. Weigh your fear of everything that escapes you, your demand to be perfect.
Weigh your inability to accept my difference. Weigh your rivalry, your jealousy. Weigh your judgment, your lack of confidence. Weigh your unrealizable expectations, your endless anger. Weigh your disappointment, your negative outlook.
Weigh your hurt past, your guilt. Weigh your inability to forgive yourself, to forgive me. Weigh your silence, O you my companion, O you my companion, all of you, brothers and sisters of my human family. Should I, however, renounce the love I feel for you?
Jesus falls for the first time
Why such fury? To what benefit? By virtue of what certainty? So alone I feel. So heavy is the weight of your betrayal. My knees give way. The earth receives me. We were a family and I was your support.
The house sparkled. The wine was flowing freely. The children were running from one end of the room to the other. We listened to each other. We lived free, full of grace. Everything was soft and stable. You were the living stones of my soul. What have you done with this simple happiness? And the Alliance?
Jesus meets his mother
I get up and see you. You, the faithful of the faithful who, alone, among the spitting and the cries, extend your hand to me. You, the mad woman in love, the sister among sisters, the mother.
You the earth, the water, the sky, the source. You the naked, the beast, the source, the plant. You, the side road. You the insane yes, the perfect gift. You the free hair, the voluntary offering freed from all hindrance.
You the contemplated among all the contemplated who look at me and give me courage. You welcome the most vulnerable, the most rejected. You are the shoulder that straightens me and carries me.
Simon helps Jesus carry his cross
As everything collapsed around me and their cries mixed with my distress, he emerged from the furious crowd and approached to help me. I wasn’t expecting it.
He is that family member that I rarely see. The erased and discreet shadow which, suddenly, in the middle of the chaos, takes part of my burden on its shoulder. Everyone else fled. Him, no.
I wish I could kiss him just for that. Tell him how much he comforts me. Him the brother, the friend, the father, the sister, the cousin, the daughter… No words. No opinion. No certainty. But there, by my side, while everything is destroyed. Without requiring the slightest explanation from me. There. In full. Unbelievable love.
Veronica wipes Jesus’ face
I talk a little too loudly at the table. I say I’m short of air. I am announcing to you that I have stopped my studies. I blurt out that I’m lost. I admit to you that I am not the son you hoped for. I admit that I have difficulty with your partner.
I tell you that I lost my job. I’m telling you that I don’t know how to pay for the house anymore. I admit that I blame you. I slip that I can no longer do it with our daughter. I whisper that I’m tired. I confess to you that I can’t take it anymore.
So, you come towards me. With all the delicacy in the world, you wipe the tears from my face. And with this single gesture, you restore everything. I finally breathe. Everything becomes possible again.
Jesus falls for the second time
Yes, the path is sometimes steep. Yes, grace sometimes dissipates. It’s because you forgot me on the way. Remember.
I am the living Word. The sap of the tree. The nectar of the fruit. Everything that binds you binds you to me. Everything that detaches you detaches you from me. But you get tired. Winter is setting in.
Body and sky become empty. Your Fiancee, your Fiancee disappoints you. So you give up, forgetting the patience and the intoxication of the clouds. Under the weight of your inconstancy, I fall.
Me, the elusive mystery of all love. Me, the breath of bodies that love each other. I, the light of every house. I fall. And I lift you up.
Jesus consoles the daughters of Jerusalem
You give in to general anxiety. You say you can’t stand this world anymore. At night, you can no longer fall asleep. You constantly feel like everything is falling apart.
You tremble for your children. You look away from the poor people in the street. Strangers bother you. The unemployed bother you. You feel helpless. Useless. In your house, you scream your anger, your rage, instead of turning off your screens. In front of yours, you agitate and you cry Closed within yourself, closed to all life.
By moaning, you exhaust yourself And you exhaust the world You, my sister, my son, my father, my mother, my companion, my daughter… When will you come and lay your torments at my feet? When will you reopen yourself to grace?
Jesus falls for the third time
Here I am collapsing. The cross is too heavy and my heart is too wounded. My cry and your cries mingle, they sink into me and crush me. Then I fall again. Both my knees are scraped and I’m bleeding.
It is you, my beloved, who betrays me, who leaves. It is you, my son, who is lost. You, my sister, who hates me. You, my brother, who hits me. You, my father, who hurt me. You, my mother, who abandon me.
It’s all of you who spit in my face. I need to stop. To bend for a moment. To tell you: I can’t take it anymore. Without hatred. Right in this kneeling. Yes, catch your breath. And to pick up you, the flayed, the tortured, the abandoned, the violated. To take you against me. And to console you.
Jesus is stripped of his clothes
What am I doing, here, on this earth, in front of you? What is my purpose in this kitchen in front of you? What is my ultimate wish? Play a role right to the end? Or dare the naked truth?
What image of myself am I willing to give up to join you? What idea of my success? Am I ready to let go of “my” program? To move away from the ideal story?
Who am I, in this room, facing you? And you, in the living room, reading? In your crib, in tears? How far am I willing to go to meet you? To heal you?
To rush, with you, towards this we of the house and the bursting spring? To what madness of love? What is the end of all representation? How much forgiveness? What offering? What amazement? What resplendence?
Jesus is nailed to the cross
In this hospital room, you are suffering martyrdom and there is nothing I can do about it. I go out into the hallway, bloodless. I would like to smash into the wall in front of me. Destroy the entire floor. The whole city. Crying about injustice.
In this aseptic office, the doctor announces your disability. As gently as possible, he explains that your eyes will never see our face. That your legs won’t work. I lower my head, unable to say a word.
I’m walking down the street and I see your ghost sprawled on the sidewalk, his arm covered in bites. The police tell me you stole. And killed. Where are you, my son? My daughter ? My beloved? And you, my mother who can’t stand the sight of me?
And you, my father who doesn’t want to recognize me? How many more nails can I handle? And why, tell me? You who look at me with sadness and cover me with your love? You who give yourself up for me?
Jesus dies on the cross
Everything dies. Everything is darkness. I think of my brother who committed suicide, of my mother who is growing old without recognizing me, of my father’s beatings, of my child’s depression, of the rape that my daughter suffered, of the accident that took away my little cousin and my sister…
Everything dies, I don’t know where I am anymore. I’m cold, my teeth are chattering. I don’t know where the path is anymore. Every room in the house is empty. Where are the beds we bought? Where are the chairs, the tables, the children’s bowls? Is this really where we lived?
Where are the foundations? Everything dies. The faces are blank. Despair engulfs me. I don’t have a taste for anything anymore. So, in the night, I cry out my wound. And in this cry, taking charge of her, You embrace the pain of the world. The cosmos darkens.
The body of Jesus is handed over to Mary
Everything is lost and, yet, something of you, of us, remains Something that I feel within me Like an embrace Where the sword pierced my soul Everything is destroyed and yet, something of you, of us persists
Despite the night that seizes me A filiation from before the centuries Which illuminates me And forgives me Where everything cries within me And demands you Everything is reduced to nothing and yet at the moment I say goodbye to you
Something of you, my beloved, of you, my family, of you my child Trembles Something like a breath on my skin That lifts me and consoles me Eternal and sweet
The body of Jesus is placed in the tomb
The city is a field of ruins. The earth burns to the ends. Sitting in front of your screen, you cry while they roll away the stone and close the tomb. You stand there, trembling. The night falls on your shoulders. You’re cold.
Despite everything, you stay. Asking forgiveness for all crimes, all degradations. Without understanding where your tears come from. Nor where does this hope come from? Nothing has changed though.
On your screen, the world continues to pour out its fury. Only his death no longer affects you. Nor his hatred. So you get up, in the middle of the noise, And you walk towards the tomb You, the newly born man. You push aside the stone, making room for your divinity
And in the night of the world You open the door of your house and invite us to the wedding We, your brothers, your sisters, your mothers, your fathers, your human sons and daughters And we become one.
