Preview: Newman on the Three Falls of Jesus on the Way of the Cross

On the Monday of Holy Week, we'll look at Saint John Henry Newman's Meditations for the Stations of the Cross on the Son Rise Morning Show, specifically at his reflections on the three times Our Lord fell beneath the cross on His way to Golgotha. I'll be on the air at my usual time at the top of the second national hour of the Son Rise Morning Show on EWTN, about 7:50 a.m. Eastern/6:50 a.m. Central. Please listen live here or catch the podcast later here.

According to a note by J.H.N. these meditations were written "about 1860; used a second time, 1885."

Newman comments that we should pray An Act of Contrition before we begin to pray the Stations.

As I've read these a couple of times in situ at Blessed Sacrament Catholic Church, my parish here in Wichita, I've meditated on Newman's "I" in these meditations on the three falls of Jesus--I think it's me, not necessarily Newman himself--and his focus on how I've committed Mortal Sin. Perhaps some of us are so used to thinking how hard it is to commit a mortal sin that we might be shocked by this emphasis in these three meditations:

The Third Station

Jesus falls the first time beneath the Cross

JESUS, bowed down under the weight and the length of the unwieldy Cross, which trailed after Him, slowly sets forth on His way, amid the mockeries and insults of the crowd. His agony in the Garden itself was sufficient to exhaust Him; but it was only the first of a multitude of sufferings. He sets off with His whole heart, but His limbs fail Him, and He falls.

Yes, it is as I feared. Jesus, the strong and mighty Lord, has found for the moment our sins stronger than Himself. He falls—yet He bore the load for a while; He tottered, but He bore up and walked onwards. What, then, made Him give way? I say, I repeat, it is an intimation and a memory to thee, O my soul, of thy falling back into mortal sin. I repented of the sins of my youth, and went on well for a time; but at length a new temptation came, when I was off my guard, and I suddenly fell away. Then all my good habits seemed to go at once; they were like a garment which is stripped off, so quickly and utterly did grace depart from me. And at that moment I looked at my Lord, and lo! He had fallen down, and I covered my face with my hands and remained in a state of great confusion.

The Seventh Station

Jesus falls a second time

THE pain of His wounds and the loss of blood increasing at every step of His way, again His limbs fail Him, and He falls on the ground.

What has He done to deserve all this? This is the reward received by the long-expected Messias from the Chosen People, the Children of Israel. I know what to answer. He falls because I have fallen. I have fallen again. I know well that without Thy grace, O Lord, I could not stand; and I fancied that I had kept closely to Thy Sacraments; yet in spite of my going to Mass and to my duties, I am out of grace again. Why is it but because I have lost my devotional spirit, and have come to Thy holy ordinances in a cold, formal way, without inward affection. I became lukewarm, tepid. I thought the battle of life was over, and became secure. I had no lively faith, no sight of spiritual things. I came to church from habit, and because I thought others would observe it. I ought to be a new creature, I ought to live by faith, hope, and charity; but I thought more of this world than of the world to come—and at last I forgot that I was a servant of God, and followed the broad way that leadeth to destruction, not the narrow way which leadeth to life. And thus I fell from Thee.

Perhaps the meditation on the Third Fall is the most surprising as Newman parallels the three times in the Stations when Jesus falls as He carries the Cross with the three times Satan fell:

The Ninth Station

Again, a third time, Jesus falls

JESUS had now reached almost to the top of Calvary; but, before He had gained the very spot where He was to be crucified, again He fell, and is again dragged up and goaded onwards by the brutal soldiery.

We are told in Holy Scripture of three falls of Satan, the Evil Spirit. The first was in the beginning; the second, when the Gospel and the Kingdom of Heaven were preached to the world; the third will be at the end of all things. The first is told us by St. John the Evangelist. He says: "There was a great battle in heaven. Michael and his Angels fought with the dragon, and the dragon fought, and his angels. And they prevailed not, neither was their place found any more in heaven. And that great dragon was cast out, the old serpent, who is called the devil and Satan." The second fall, at the time of the Gospel, is spoken of by our Lord when He says, "I saw Satan, like lightning, falling from heaven." And the third by the same St. John: "There came down fire from God out of heaven, ... and the devil ... was cast into the pool of fire and brimstone."

These three falls—the past, the present, and the future—the Evil Spirit had in mind when he moved Judas to betray our Lord. This was just his hour. Our Lord, when He was seized, said to His enemies, "This is your hour and the power of darkness." Satan knew his time was short, and thought he might use it to good effect. But little dreaming that he would be acting in behalf of the world's redemption, which our Lord's passion and death were to work out, in revenge, and, as he thought, in triumph, he smote Him once, he smote Him twice, he smote Him thrice, each successive time a heavier blow. The weight of the Cross, the barbarity of the soldiers and the crowd, were but his instruments. O Jesus, the only-begotten Son of God, the Word Incarnate, we praise, adore, and love Thee for Thy ineffable condescension, even to allow Thyself thus for a time to fall into the hands, and under the power of the Enemy of God and man, in order thereby to save us from being his servants and companions for eternity.

But Newman has another meditation on this third fall, one that returns to the theme of how I am complicit in Our Lord's suffering in my struggle to be faithful:

Or this

This is the worst fall of the three. His strength has for a while utterly failed Him, and it is some time before the barbarous soldiers can bring Him to. Ah! it was His anticipation of what was to happen to me. I get worse and worse. He sees the end from the beginning. He was thinking of me all the time He dragged Himself along, up the Hill of Calvary. He saw that I should fall again in spite of all former warnings and former assistance. He saw that I should become secure and self-confident, and that my enemy would then assail me with some new temptation, to which I never thought I should be exposed. I thought my weakness lay all on one particular side which I knew. I had not a dream that I was not strong on the other. And so Satan came down on my unguarded side, and got the better of me from my self-trust and self-satisfaction. I was wanting in humility. I thought no harm would come on me, I thought I had outlived the danger of sinning; I thought it was an easy thing to get to heaven, and I was not watchful. It was my pride, and so I fell a third time.

In these three meditations Newman emphasizes our moral and spiritual difficulties, our temptations, our failings, and our danger of thinking it's "an easy thing to get to heaven." 

They're rather bracing, aren't they?

SOUL of Christ, be my sanctification;
Body of Christ, be my salvation;
Blood of Christ, fill all my veins;
Water of Christ’s side, wash out my stains;
Passion of Christ, my comfort be;
O good Jesu, listen to me;
In thy wounds I fain would hide,
Ne’er to be parted from Thy side;
Guard me, should the foe assail me;
Call me when my life shall fail me;
Bid me come to Thee above,
With Thy saints to sing Thy love,
World without end. Amen. (Newman's translation of the Anima Christi)

Saint John Henry Newman, pray for us!

A Prayer Book Review: "Little Offices of the Passion"

I purchased this Little Offices of the Passion devotional from PrayLatin.com, but it is published by Angelus Press:

The saints of the Church have often produced aids for those desiring to grow in devotion to Our Lord, especially to his Passion; and while the saints have employed many different genres to inform devotion to Christ, there is perhaps none greater than the devotion offered in a liturgical Office.

This little book, which presents two of these Offices by two of the great saints of the Church, is what men and women of the medieval period would have called a Book of Hours. . . .

The two Offices presented here begin the narrative of the Passion in slightly different places: St. Bonaventure’s begins at Matins and Lauds, remembering Christ imprisoned in the early hours of the morning, while St. Francis’s Office begins at Compline the night prior by commemorating the Agony in the Garden.

These Offices invite us to enter more deeply into the memory of the Lord’s Passion, and more deeply into the devotional lives of St. Francis, St. Bonaventure, and even St. Louis IX. In St. Bonaventure’s Office we are taken by a more conventional route into the Passion of Christ. In St. Francis’s Office of the Passion, we find a more unique Office composed of texts that invite us into St. Francis’s own prayers. The Seraphic Father not only presses us to become more devoted to Christ’s suffering; he teaches us to praise God through the created world, to grow in devotion to Our Lady, and to more clearly recognize God as the source of all the goods we have, those of nature gifted to us through creation and those of grace gifted to us by God’s redeeming acts, especially Christ’s sacrifice on the Cross. Here is how we can better know these saints and, with them, take on the mind of Christ, their Lord and Master: by taking up their prayers daily. . . .

Since I pray with some form of the liturgy most of the time, I've appreciated these Little Offices of the Liturgy and the meditation and devotion they've added to my prayers this Lent. The volume offers the texts of both Franciscans' versions of the Little Office, plus the Marian Antiphons, the four Gospel accounts of the Passion, and the Seven Penitential Psalms, with an introduction and explanation of the differences between the versions.

I've found Saint Bonaventure's more easy to adapt to so far because he begins in the morning of Good Friday and continues through the events of the Passion, matching them to Matins, Laud, Prime, Terce, Sext, None, Vespers, and Compline; each hour includes the psalm, hymns, and prayers. 

Saint Francis's version of the Little Hours of the Passion begins with Compline and the Agony and the Garden, and one has to select the psalms, as adapted by Saint Francis, to be prayed at each hour according to the season of the year. Saint Francis also includes a meditation on the Our Father with prayers for each intercession, and a series of the praises of God. The psalms also contain interpolations selected by Saint Francis of Assisi.

The book is pocket sized, with texts in both England and Latin, beautiful illustrations from a book of the hours, three ribbons, and 179 pages. The Angelus Press website has several pictures to give you an idea of the size and beauty of this devotional.

It is not just for Lent, of course, as it could become part of anyone's Friday devotions, since each is Good as every Sunday is Easter! I'd recommend it.

Saint Francis of Assisi, pray for us!

Saint Bonaventure, pray for us!

Picture Credits: (Public Domain): Saint Bonaventure by Claude Francis; Saint Francis of Assisi by Cigoli (Lodovico Cardi)

Preview: Newman's Meditations on the Bodily Sufferings of Our Lord

On Monday, April 7, we'll continue our discussion of Saint John Henry Newman's Lenten meditations on the Son Rise Morning Show. This time we will look at "The Bodily Sufferings of Our Lord", which he prepared for Holy Week on Wednesday and Maundy Thursday. I'll be on the air at my usual time at the top of the second national hour of the Son Rise Morning Show on EWTN, about 7:50 a.m. Eastern/6:50 a.m. Central. Please listen live here or catch the podcast later here. As we've entered Passiontide--with statues and crucifixes veiled in some churches, a tradition that may be observed here in the USA--our thoughts turn more and more to the Passion of Christ and we prepare for the Holy Triduum.

Newman, respecting the mystery of the hypostatic union of the two natures of Our Incarnate Lord, reflects on how His "bodily pains" were intensified by His will in the first meditation for Wednesday in Holy Week:

HIS bodily pains were greater than those of any martyr, because He willed them to be greater. All pain of body depends, as to be felt at all, so to be felt in this or that degree, on the nature of the living mind which dwells in that body. . . . Man feels more than any brute, because he has a soul; Christ's soul felt more than that of any other man, because His soul was exalted by personal union with the Word of God. Christ felt bodily pain more keenly than any other man, as much as man feels pain more keenly than any other animal.

Newman offers some reflections on pain and suffering and how we experience them:

It is a relief to pain to have the thoughts drawn another way. Thus, soldiers in battle often do not know when they are wounded. Again, persons in raging fevers seem to suffer a great deal; then afterwards they can but recollect general discomfort and restlessness. . . . And so again, an instantaneous pain is comparatively bearable; it is the continuance of pain which is so heavy, and if we had no memory of the pain we suffered last minute, and also suffer in the present, we should find pain easy to bear; but what makes the second pang grievous is because there has been a first pang; and what makes the third more grievous is that there has been a first and second; the pain seems to grow because it is prolonged.

Then he notes that Jesus endured His Passion without any of those distractions or ameliorations: 

. . . Now Christ suffered, not as in a delirium or in excitement, or in inadvertency, but He looked pain in the face! He offered His whole mind to it, and received it, as it were, directly into His bosom, and suffered all He suffered with a full consciousness of suffering.

Christ would not drink the drugged cup which was offered to Him to cloud His mind. He willed to have the full sense of pain. His soul was so intently fixed on His suffering as not to be distracted from it; and it was so active, and recollected the past and anticipated the future, and the whole passion was, as it were, concentrated on each moment of it, and all that He had suffered and all that He was to suffer lent its aid to increase what He was suffering. Yet withal His soul was so calm and sober and unexcited as to be passive, and thus to receive the full burden of the pain on it, without the power of throwing it off Him. Moreover, the sense of conscious innocence, and the knowledge that His sufferings would come to an end, might have supported Him; but He repressed the comfort and turned away His thoughts from these alleviations that He might suffer absolutely and perfectly.

His prayer incorporates his desire to be able to suffer as Christ suffered:

O my God and Saviour, who went through such sufferings for me with such lively consciousness, such precision, such recollection, and such fortitude, enable me, by Thy help, if I am brought into the power of this terrible trial, bodily pain, enable me to bear it with some portion of Thy calmness. Obtain for me this grace, O Virgin Mother, who didst see thy Son suffer and didst suffer with Him; that I, when I suffer, may associate my sufferings with His and with thine, and that through His passion, and thy merits and those of all Saints, they may be a satisfaction for my sins and procure for me eternal life.

On Maundy Thursday, as Christ endures the Agony in the Garden, preparing for the Crucifixion, Newman has two main themes: Our Lord's Soul and His Heart, in the Garden of Gethsemane and on the Cross on Golgotha:

Our Lord's sufferings were so great, because His soul was in suffering. What shows this is that His soul began to suffer before His bodily passion, as we see in the agony in the garden. The first anguish which came upon His body was not from without—it was not from the scourges, the thorns, or the nails, but from His soul. His soul was in such agony that He called it death: "My soul is sorrowful even unto death." The anguish was such that it, as it were, burst open His whole body. It was a pang affecting His heart; as in the deluge the floods of the great deep were broken up and the windows of heaven were open. The blood, rushing from his tormented heart, forced its way on every side, formed for itself a thousand new channels, filled all the pores, and at length stood forth upon His skin in thick drops, which fell heavily on the ground.

He remained in this living death from the time of His agony in the garden; and as His first agony was from His soul, so was His last. As the scourge and the cross did not begin His sufferings, so they did not close them. It was the agony of His soul, not of His body, which caused His death. His persecutors were surprised to hear that He was dead. How, then, did He die? That agonised, tormented heart, which at the beginning so awfully relieved itself in the rush of blood and the bursting of His pores, at length broke. It broke and He died. It would have broken at once, had He not kept it from breaking. At length the moment came. He gave the word and His heart broke.

And Newman's closing prayers for this meditation:

O tormented heart, it was love, and sorrow, and fear, which broke Thee. It was the sight of human sin, it was the sense of it, the feeling of it laid on Thee; it was zeal for the glory of God, horror at seeing sin so near Thee, a sickening, stifling feeling at its pollution, the deep shame and disgust and abhorrence and revolt which it inspired, keen pity for the souls whom it has drawn headlong into hell—all these feelings together Thou didst allow to rush upon Thee. Thou didst submit Thyself to their powers, and they were Thy death. That strong heart, that all-noble, all-generous, all-tender, all-pure heart was slain by sin.

O most tender and gentle Lord Jesus, when will my heart have a portion of Thy perfections? When will my hard and stony heart, my proud heart, my unbelieving, my impure heart, my narrow selfish heart, be melted and conformed to Thine? O teach me so to contemplate Thee that I may become like Thee, and to love Thee sincerely and simply as Thou hast loved me.

I know, as usual, that I've given Matt and Anna too much for us to discuss on Monday, but they always find the right questions and/or points of discussion!

On the Monday of Holy Week (April 14), I've selected a few of the meditations Newman wrote for the Stations of the Cross for our final reflection in this series.

Saint John Henry Newman also has a beautiful brief meditation in this section for Holy Saturday. I'll post it here on April 19.

Sacred Heart of Jesus, have mercy on us!

Saint John Henry Newman, pray for us!

Image source (Public Domain): El Greco's Jesus Carrying the Cross, 1580.

Image source (Public Domain): Francesco Trevisani, Agony in the Garden, 1740.