Jesus, my infinite love! The more I look at You, the more I realize what You are suffering. You are already a single wound, there is not a healed spot on You. The executioners are furious that You still look at them with love in such agony. Your loving, kind, enchanting looks are just as many voices that desire even more suffering and new torment. The henchmen, not only because they are inhuman, but also unconsciously compelled by Your love, set You on Your feet to inflict new suffering and even more bitter pain. But You, unable to stay on Your feet, fall again into Your blood. Your tormentors, furious at this, raise You up with kicks and blows and drag You to the place where You are to be crowned with thorns.

Jesus Crowned with Thorns

Jesus, if You don't hold me up with Your look of love, then I can no longer see You suffer. The shudder goes through my heart and soul, my heart is pounding, I feel close to death. Jesus, Jesus, help me!

It seems to me that You are speaking:

"My child, courage! Do not miss anything of what I have suffered and pay attention to My teachings. I must renew the whole man. Guilt has crowned him with shame and disgrace so that he cannot appear before My Majesty; guilt has dishonored him and made him forfeit all right to honor and glory. Therefore I will be crowned with thorns to restore the crown to man's forehead, to restore him to all his rights and to give him his honor and glory. My thorns will be voices of atonement and exoneration before My Father for so many sins of thought, especially those of pride; they will be rays of light for every created spirit and intercessory prayers that the children of men may no longer offend Me. Therefore, unite with Me, intercede and atone with Me."

My Jesus, Your cruel enemies make You sit down, hang an old purple cloak around You, make a crown of thorns and place it on Your adorable head with diabolical fury. Then they take sticks, strike you and let the thorns penetrate Your forehead, sometimes even Your eyes, ears, brain and neck.

My dear, what agony, what unspeakable suffering! How many cruel deaths You have undergone! Your blood is already running down your face, so that almost nothing but blood is visible. Nevertheless, beneath these thorns and this blood, Your most holy face shines with gentleness, love and peace. To bring the comedy to a close, they hand You a reed as a scepter, and now their mockery can begin. They greet You as King of the Jews, strike Your crown and give You cheek strokes.

You keep silent and thus atone for the ambition of those who strive for dominion and dignity, making satisfaction for those who behave unworthily in high rank and position and thus become the ruin of the peoples and the souls entrusted to them.

With the reed that You hold in Your hand, You make reparation for so many works that are good but without inner spirit, even for those that are done with evil intent. By enduring mockery and scorn, You atone for those people who profane, despise and ridicule the most sacred things.

Jesus, my King! Your enemies continue in their insults, the blood flows in such abundance from Your most holy head over Your face that I can hardly hear Your sweet voice. O I would like to lay my head under these thorns to feel their stings.

Jesus, how beautiful You are in the midst of these thousandfold torments! It seems as if You are speaking to me:

"My child, let these thorns say that I want to be installed as King of Hearts, for all dominion is due to Me. Take these thorns of Mine and wound your heart with them. Let what does not belong to Me flow out of it. Leave a thorn in your heart as a seal that I am your King, to prevent another from taking up residence in you. Make your round to all hearts. By wounding them with My thorns, let the fleeting smoke of pride and all the filth they contain escape from them so that each one may establish Me as King."

My love, my heart clenches when I have to leave You. So let Your thorns enter my ears to hear Your voice alone, into my eyes to look to You alone, into my mouth that my tongue may remain mute to anything that might offend You, and only have the freedom to praise and glorify You in all people. Jesus, my King! Surround me with Your thorns, that they may protect me, defend me and make me ever mindful of You.

Now I will wipe Your blood and caress You, for I see that Your enemies are leading You back to Pilate, who will condemn You to death. My thorn-crowned Savior, help me so that I can continue on Your path of suffering.

Jesus before Pilate again

My poor heart, wounded by love and pierced by Your suffering, cannot live without You. That is why I seek and find you again before Pilate.

What a shocking spectacle! The heavens shudder, hell trembles with fear and rage at the same time. Life of my heart, my eyes cannot see You without coming close to death. But Your ravishing love compels me to look at You anyway, in order to fully comprehend Your suffering. And I look at You with sighs and tears. Jesus, You are still stripped of Your clothes. Instead of a robe, I see You clothed in blood. Your flesh hangs in pieces from Your body, Your bones are exposed, Your most holy face is no longer recognizable. The thorns have penetrated Your head right into Your eyes. I see only blood running to the ground, leaving a bloody stream behind Your steps.

You are no longer recognizable, You are so battered, You have reached the lowest level of humiliation and the highest degree of suffering. Oh, I can hardly bear the sight of you! Oh, I would like to snatch You from Pilate's power, close You up in my heart and give You rest. How I would like to heal Your wounds with Your love, to flood the whole world with Your blood, to immerse all souls in it and lead them to You as the spoils of Your suffering.

Most patient Jesus, You are barely able to look at me through the thorns to speak to me:

"My child, come into these My bound arms, bow your head to My breast and you will feel the most intense and bitter pain. What you see of My humanity on the outside is only the overflow of My inner agony. Pay attention to the beatings of My Heart and you will realize that I am atoning for the injustices of many rulers, for the oppression of the poor and the innocent who are set after the guilty. I atone for the arrogance of those who, in order to maintain their dignity, their position, their riches, do not care to trample on every law and do injustice to their neighbor because they close their eyes to the light of truth.

With these thorns of Mine I want to dismember their proud arrogance and, through the hollows they form in My head, pave the way for Me to reach their spirit to set all things in order in it in the spirit of truth. If I stand so deeply humbled before this unjust judge, I will thereby make all understand that virtue alone confers that dignity which makes man king over himself. I want to teach all rulers that virtue alone, combined with a straight mind, makes them worthy and capable of leading and ruling others. All dignities without virtue, on the other hand, are dangerous and deplorable gifts. My daughter, let My acts of reparation go to your heart and continue to pay attention to My sufferings."

When Pilate sees You so badly beaten, he shudders and exclaims with emotion:

"Is it possible that such cruelty can be found in the human heart? Truly, when I condemned the accused to scourging, it was not my will that he should be treated in this way." Completely dazed and unable to look at your pain-filled face any longer, he turns his gaze away from You. In order to find more convincing reasons to free You from the hands of Your enemies, He sets up a new interrogation with You.

"Tell me, what have You done? Your people have given You into my hand. Are You really a king? And what is Your kingdom?"

You do not answer these urgent questions of Pilate, my Jesus. Completely absorbed in Yourself, You think only of saving my poor soul at the cost of so much suffering.

Since Pilate receives no answer, he adds:

“Do You not know that it is in my power to release You or to condemn You?”

And You, my love, who want to let the light of truth shine in Pilate's spirit, give an answer:

"You would have no power over Me if it had not been given to you from above. But those who deliver Me into your hands have a greater sin."

Ecce Homo!

Moved by the gentleness of Your voice, Pilate, in his excitement, decides to show You to Your enemies from the terrace of the courthouse. He hopes that compassion will stir in their hearts when they see You so badly beaten. This is how he wants to free You.

Sorrowful Jesus! My heart fails when I look at You. With difficulty You stride along following Pilate, bent under the shuddering crown of thorns. Blood marks Your steps. As You step out, You see a crowd in an uproar, eagerly awaiting Your condemnation. Pilate commands silence in order to attract everyone's attention and to be understood by all. Shuddering, he takes hold of the two corners of your purple cloak covering Your chest and shoulders, pulls them apart so that everyone can see how You have been beaten, and speaks in a loud voice:

“Ecce homo! Look, what a man! Look, he no longer has the form of a man. Look at his wounds; he is no longer recognizable. If he has done evil, then he has suffered enough, indeed more than enough. I have already regretted that I had him scourged. So let us set him free.”

Jesus, my love, allow me to hold You. Under the weight of such severe suffering, You can no longer stand on Your feet and You stagger. Ah, in this solemn moment Your fate is decided. At Pilate's words there is a profound silence in heaven, on earth and in the underworld. Immediately afterwards, as if with one voice, the cry rings out from all throats:

"Crucify him, crucify him! We want him dead!"

Jesus, my life, I see how You are dying. The cry of death rises in Your heart. O let me, I beg You, die with You at the same time! You, my tormented Jesus, speak to me, moved by my pain:

"Child, bow your head to My Heart and take part in My sufferings and works of atonement. The moment is solemn: it is the decision about My death or the death of the human race. At this moment two streams are pouring into My Heart. In one are the souls who want My death in order to find life in Me. By accepting death for them, they are snatched from eternal damnation and the gates of the Kingdom of Heaven open to receive them. In the other stream are those who want My death out of hatred and thereby seal their damnation. My heart is torn apart. The downfall of each of these souls is unspeakably close to Me. 'The pains of hell surround Me' (Ps 17:6). Alas, my heart can no longer withstand these bitter pains. I feel the death of these souls with every beat of My heart, with every breath, and I repeat again and again: 'Shall so much blood be shed in vain? Shall the sufferings I endure be in vain for so many?'¹

O child, hold Me up, I can take no more! Share in My torment. May your life be a constant sacrifice to save souls and alleviate My heart-wrenching torments."

Jesus, may Your sufferings be mine, and may Your acts of atonement find an echo in me.² But I see Pilate is out of temper, and it urges him to exclaim:

"How, your king shall I crucify? I find no guilt in him." And the Jews shout so that the air trembles:

"We have no king but the emperor. If you release this one, you are no friend of the emperor. Crucify him, crucify him!"

Condemned to Death by Pilate

Pilate, who no longer knows how to help himself, has a basin of water brought to him for fear of being deprived of his office and washes his hands while speaking:

“I am innocent of the blood of this righteous man.” And the Jews cry out again:

“May his blood be upon us and our children!”

Knowing You, my Jesus, to be condemned, they break out in rejoicing, clap their hands and shout for joy. In the meantime, my Jesus, You atone for those who, while standing on high, out of fear of man and in order not to lose their offices, trample on the most sacred laws without caring about the downfall of entire nations. You atone for those who favor the wicked and condemn the innocent. You also atone for those who provoke the divine wrath to punish them after their guilt.

But while You atone, Your heart bleeds because You see in advance that the chosen people will be struck by the curse of heaven. The Jews have freely willed it and sealed the curse with Your blood, which they have called down upon themselves.

Jesus, my heart is failing. Allow me to hold it in my hands and make Your acts of atonement mine. Your love alone strives for higher things. Innocently You seek the cross. My life, I will follow You. Rest in my arms for a while. Then we will go together to Calvary. So stay with me and bless me.

Reflections and Practices

by St. Fr. Annibale Di Francia

From 9 to 10, crowned with thorns, Jesus is mocked as king and subjected to unheard-of insults and pains. He Repairs in a special way for the sins of pride. And we—do we avoid sentiments of pride? Do we attribute to God the good that we do? Do we consider ourselves inferior to others? Is our mind always empty of any other thought in order to give rise to Grace? Many times we do not give rise to Grace by keeping our mind filled with other thoughts. Then, since our mind is not completely filled with God, we ourselves cause the

devil to bother us, and maybe we even foment temptations. When our mind is filled with God, as the devil approaches us, not finding the place toward which to direct his temptations, confused, he flees. In fact, holy thoughts have so much power against the devil that, as he is about to approach us, they wound him like many swords, and cast him away.

Therefore, we lament unfairly when our mind is bothered and tempted by the enemy. It is our poor surveillance that pushes our enemy to assault us. He is spying on our mind in order to find little gaps, and attack us. Then, instead of relieving Jesus with our holy thoughts and removing the thorns from Him, ungrateful, we push them into His Head, making Him feel the pricking more sharply. In this way, Grace remains frustrated, and cannot carry out the crafting of Its holy inspirations in our mind.

Many times we do even worse. As we feel the weight of temptations, instead of bringing them to Jesus, making of them a bundle to be burned by the Fire of His Love, we worry, we become sad, and speculate on those very temptations. Therefore, not only does our mind remain occupied by evil thoughts, but all our poor being remains as though soaked with them; and so it would almost take a miracle from Jesus to free us. And Jesus looks at us through those thorns and, calling us, He seems to say, “Ah, My child, you yourself do not want to cling to Me. If you had come immediately to Me, I would have helped you to free yourself from the bothers that the enemy brought into your mind, and you would not have made Me sigh so much for your return. I asked for help from you in order to be freed from thorns so sharp; but I waited in vain, because you were occupied with the work that your enemy had given you. O! How much less tempted you would be, if you came immediately into My arms. Then fearing Me, and not you, the enemy would leave you immediately.”

My Jesus, may Your thorns seal my thoughts in Your Mind, and prevent the enemy from causing any sort of temptation.

When Jesus makes Himself felt in our mind and in our heart, do we reciprocate His Inspirations, or do we place them into oblivion? Jesus is mocked as king. And we—do we

respect all the holy things? Do we use all the reverence that befits them, as if we were touching Jesus Christ Himself?

My crowned Jesus, let me feel Your thorns, so that I may understand from their pricks how much You suffer, and I may constitute You as King of my whole self.

Showed from the balcony, Jesus is condemned to death by those people who had been loved and who had benefited so much from Him.

Loving Jesus accepts death for us, in order to give us Life. And are we ready to accept any pain to prevent Jesus from being offended and from suffering? Our pain must be accepted so as not to make Jesus suffer. And since He suffered infinitely in His Humanity, and since we have to continue His Life on earth, we must reciprocate the pains of the Humanity of Jesus Christ with our own pains.

How do we compassionate the pains that Jesus suffers in seeing many souls being snatched from His Heart? Do we make His pains our own so as to relieve Him from all that He suffers? The Jews want Him crucified, so that He may die like a criminal, and that His name be erased from the face of the earth. And do we strive to let Jesus Live on earth? With our acts, with our example, with our steps, we must put a Divine Mark in the world, so that Jesus may be recognized by all, and so that, through our works, His Life may have a Divine Echo, heard from one end of the world to another. Are we ready to give our own life so that beloved Jesus may be relieved of all the offenses, or do we rather imitate the Jews, people so much favored—almost like our own souls, which are Loved so much by Jesus—and shout like them, “Crucifigatur” [let Him be crucified]?

My condemned Jesus, may Your condemnation be my own, which I accept for love of You. And in order to console You, I will pour myself continuously in You, to bring You into the hearts of all creatures, to make You known to all, and to give Your Life to all.

¹ Paraphrase of the psalm verse: What profit in the shedding of my blood? Ps.30,10.

² i.e. the soul imitates them.

Sacrifice and Thanksgiving

Sources:

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Thorn Circle Vectors by Vecteezy

Crown Of Thorns Vectors by Vecteezy

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