THE MOTHER OF SORROWS

With what unutterable tenderness Mary the Mother of the crucified Christ, received His dead body from the cross! Little did she think years before when Simeon prophesied: “Thine own soul a sword shall pierce," that the words would find their fulfillment in the shadow of the gibbet on the hill of Calvary! The lips that once voiced the sublime Magnificat were now tremblingly dumb, while the dull beat of her holy heart bespoke the awful agony which speech refused to word. "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” Perhaps now, while sheltering the lifeless form of Jesus, there welled up in silent cadences in the bosom of the heart-broken mother the remainder of the psalm which had trembled on the dying lips of Jesus.

"O my God, I shall cry by day, and thou wilt not hear: and by night, and it shall not be reputed as folly in me. But thou dwellest in the holy place, the praise of Israel. In thee have our fathers hoped: they have hoped, and thou hast delivered them. They cried to thee, and they were saved they trusted in thee, and were not confounded. But I am a worm, and no man: the reproach of men, and the outcast of the people. All they that saw me have laughed me to scorn: they have spoken with the lips, and wagged the head. He hoped in the Lord, let him deliver him: let him save him. seeing he delighteth in him. I am poured out like water: and all my bones are scattered. My heart is become like wax melting in the midst of my bowels. My strength is dried up like a potsherd, and my tongue hath cleaved to my jaws: and thou hast brought me down into the dust of death. For many dogs have encompassed me: the council of the malignant hath besieged me. They have dug my hands and feet. They have numbered all my bones. And they have looked and stared upon me. They parted my garments amongst them; and upon my vesture they cast lots.” Psalm 21.

The Lord never points His finger; He opens His arms, as Jesus shows on the cross. He never closes the door, but invites us to enter. He never keeps His distance, but welcomes us. Let us spread His message of love that frees our hearts and fills us with joy that never fades.

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● Pope's Tweet about Gospel

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Saint of the Day ● Video

A king that is coming to conquer needs a war horse. A king that has already conquered comes on his donkey.

David shows this in 1 Kings 1:33-35—

The king said to them, “Take with you the servants of your lord, and have my son Solomon ride on my own mule, and bring him down to Gihon. “Let Zadok the priest and Nathan the prophet anoint him there as king over Israel, and blow the trumpet and say, ‘Long live King Solomon!’ “Then you shall come up after him, and he shall come and sit on my throne and be king in my place; for I have appointed him to be ruler over Israel and Judah."

It's why Ziba brought a gift of donkeys for the king's household. 2 Sam 16:2

David's sons rode on them. 2 Sam 13

Abaslom was riding one at his death. 2 Sam 18:9

Jesus has always reigned and always will- does a man who commands the weather and calls forth the dead need an army? Does the man who holds your breath-life in His hands require a host?

Christ. Is. King.
Pay heed.

@calvinismmemes

I'd like to go on a tangent here about using weakness as an excuse.
I've always found that weakness which we venerate within Christendom to not be true weakness, but voluntary weakness; our Lord chose it, and so, likewise, should we. A soldier's meekness is virtuous only because he is able to not be so, a monk's fast is only virtuous because he has the option of plenty, our Lord's incarnation & crucifixion is the ultimate virtue because he is all-powerful. We, as Christians, should strive to be strong, perfect, and to have plenty to truly add virtue to that of the world which we lack voluntarily, by God's grace. Indeed strength, intellect, a gregarious disposition has always been a good, an inherent virtue.

Unfathomably wholesome. Imagine you kill your husband with a steaknife, are serving 25 years to life and then Pope washes your feet. This is what it’s all about.

After celebrating the Chrism Mass in the morning, Pope Francis traveled to a women's prison on the outskirts of Rome.
There, he presided over the Mass of the Lord's Supper. And following tradition, he washed the feet of 12 inmates.

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● Pope's Tweet about Gospel

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The Bible Miniseries | Passion
Episode 08 – Episode 09

RIP rad trads

Say not thou, What is the cause that the former days were better than these? for thou dost not inquire wisely concerning this.

Ecclesiastes 7:10

Faust:
What distant voices, what exalted singing
Now from my eager lips have snatched this cup away?
Are those deep-throated bells already ringing
'The first glad message of the Easter Day?
You early choirs, you sing as once the angels sang When from the dark night of the tomb there rang Assurance of a covenant renewed that day.

Choir of women:
With fragrant lotion
Gently his limbs we dressed,
With true devotion
Laid our dear Lord to rest, Clean linen round him
Binding with loving care.
Alas, we found him
No longer there.

Choir of angels:
Christ is arisen!
Saviour who loves us best
Ever thy name be blessed
Who for us stood the test
In thy dark prison.

Faust:
You gentle, potent choirs of heaven, why do you seek To visit me within this dusty cell?
I hear your message, but my faith is weak;
Go, on more tender minds to cast your spell And work the miracles that faith loves well.
I do not dare to reach towards those spheres, Your gracious gospel calls to me in vain;
And yet these sounds bring memories of early years
That call me back to life on earth again.
Then, in the solemn stillness of the sabbath day
I felt the loving kiss of heaven descend on me;
The pealing bells rang out the sacred mystery, And with a fervent joy I knelt to pray.
I did not understand the joyful urge
That drove me out to wood and field and lane, Or why I wept a thousand tears to feel the surge Of life as if a world was born in me again.
Those songs would promise carefree childish play, And herald the unfettered joys of spring;
The memories of childhood innocence they bring
From that last solemn step turn me away.
Sweet choirs of heaven, your hymns were not in vain;
My tears run free, I am restored to earth again!

Choir of Disciples:
Though in the tomb he lay,
All was not ended;
Our loving Lord today
Heavenward ascended.
Now through his second birth
Glad transformation nears,
But we remain on earth
Still in this vale of tears.
We who were not reborn
Languish here comfortless;
We who were left to mourn
Envy his bliss!

Choir of Angels:
Christ is arisen
Out of corruption's woe.
Now from your prison
Joyfully go,
Praises declaring
Loving and caring
Brotherhood sharing
His gospel bearing
Heaven's joys preparing.
For you the Lord is near,
See, he is here!

Faust, Part One by Goethe

Happy Easter brothers, may death have no power over you.

St John Chrysostom. Based as always

Alright who was that

@Chungus_The_Fungus I know you voted yes on your own poll