Cross prayers...

This deep gazing upon the mystery of divine and human suffering is found in the prophet Zechariah (12:10, 13:1, 14:8) in a very telling text that became a prophecy for the transformative power of the victims of history.

Today this is perhaps what we would call "grief work," holding the mystery of pain and looking right at it and learning deeply from it, which normally leads to an uncanny and newfound compassion and understanding. The hospice movement and the exponential growth in bereavement ministries throughout many of the churches are showing this to be true, but look how long it has taken us to rediscover such wisdom.

I believe we are invited to gaze upon the image of the crucified to soften our hearts toward God, and to know that God's heart has always been softened toward us, even and most especially in our suffering. This softens us toward ourselves and all others who suffer.

(Richard Rohr, from Things Hidden: Scripture as Spirituality)

I don't know very much about grief work in formal practice. It's a fascinating area, but one I'd embark on with great trepidation, at least insofar as it involved trying to help anyone else.

The gazing upon the image of the crucified is something else, though, and something I keep getting more and more drawn towards this Lent. It's a helpless, wordless thing as it happens to me, not something I could possibly have been attracted to for myself, so I can only assume this is something the Spirit is doing in my heart, and quite separate from any inclination of mine.

Our Franciscan Third Order Office contains "The Cross Prayers," one of which reads:

Almighty God,
When the world was growing cold
You raised up blessed Francis
Bearing in his body the marks of the Passion of your son.
Inflame our hearts by the fire of your love
And mercifully grant to us your people true penitence
And grace to bear the cross for love of  Him
Who is alive and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit
One God now and forever.  Amen.

I wonder if in some way what is happening could be an answer to prayers like this? This sense of standing at the foot of the Cross has been so strong these last few weeks, and it is so unlike my usual preoccupations, that although I am longing to know where it is leading, I am afraid. Forgive me, too, if I don't put it clearly enough, or come over more certain of myself than I am. I'm groping for words all the time, for something I've never had to try even to describe to myself before.