Third sorrowful mystery: Jesus is crowned with thorns

Lectio: They clothed Him in royal purple and then placed a crown of thorns on His head.

Meditatio: The materials are interesting here: the robe was in fact royal purple, so in spite of themselves, the soldiers gave Jesus real honour as a king, and the thorns were as they intended – ridicule.

Sinners today who openly ridicule God will one day tremble before Him, and give Him the royal robe of their fear. This is not what God wills, as He is God of Love, and so the thorns will always be there – the thorns of the injustice that His love will always be unrequited, and that the sinners’ remorse will be without end.

And what about me? The royal robe I give and the thorns I provide? My devotions and prayers (and this blog) are indeed a real tribute to God. But in the end, as they say, “It ain’t how you start, it’s how you finish” – don’t I end up crowning it all with thorns? When the going gets tough, when temptation comes, sometimes even at my invitation, don’t I just give way? As I write this I am not in a state of grace, so it is true that I will not fight for God. Isn’t that tantamount to saying, “I will not serve.” If the service I am called to, as we all are, is that of a warrior, to fight, and I refuse to fight, then I refuse to serve. Whatever way I look at it, I am a coward and my sin is the same as that of the devil, neither of us will serve. Heaven is given to those who seize it by force, who do violence to themselves and destroy the “old man” so that the “new man” can rise up in his place. I am the “devoted catholic” who multiplies prayers and says “Lord, Lord” but at the end of the day, Jesus will say that He doesn’t know me.

Oratio: Dear Mary, I am ashamed of myself. I always seek my own comfort. Please pray for me and inspire me to adopt a warrior’s code, to fight myself and win the battle, and when one battle is won, not to rest, but as a true warrior to ardently seek new frontiers to conquer for my Lord. And then, at the end of my life, I pray that they can say of me as they said of Jesus, “Behold the man,” the boy is dead.