Vigils Reading

HIS CROSS IS MY GLORY

From a homily by William of St-Thierry6

◊◊◊

It is to my crucified one that I turn. His cross is my glory: its mark is on my

brow; it gives joy to my mind, direction to my life, love even for death itself. May

they not despise me for this, O Lord, they who are worthy to behold you, seated

as you are on your throne, the exaltation of your godhead, filling all the earth

with your majesty. The mysteries of your dealings with men here and now fill

the temple of every mind, great and small. May your holy angels have the

honour that is their due in heaven: but may they sometimes also share their

grace and favours with us here on earth. For he loves us to make progress in our

lives: and their blessed perfection is sweet to him.

As the Apostle says: God’s many-splendoured wisdom has been

manifested to principalities and powers in heaven through his dealings with the

Church. Wherefore may they pardon us, Lord, even if your love should

sometimes so captivate us that we desire to see, with them, what with them we

already love: with a full heart we felicitate them, as they behold what we are not

yet worthy to behold.

May they blissfully contemplate your divine majesty residing in your

eternal wisdom: those things to be, seen before this our mortal wayfaring and

after it, everything that is, past and future, enfolding it all within his eternal

present: it reaches in its power and strength from one extremity to another. But

our temporal passage, belonging to your dealings with men as a whole, he has

strewn with his charity, disposing all things in sweetness, for the sake of the

daughters of Jerusalem, the devout but as yet infirm souls. They who have not

thus far their elevated gaze fixed on contemplating the sublime would fain

undergo hardship for your servants and be transformed so as to belong among

their fellows. Among these, O Lord, may my spirit some day be taught to adore

you, spirit as you are, in spirit and in truth, flesh no longer desiring what is

contrary to the spirit, nor yet holding it back.

But now that for the moment you are kept from boldly taking possession

of what is to be yours, make a proper disposition of what is his, with what grace

and harmony you best can, as befits him, the true owner. I have not yet risen

above the rough-hewn figures of my earthly imagination: but may you indulge

and be gracious to my feeble spirit, as it expresses its true nature in letting its

fancy play on your more humble creatures. Behold! the meager enfolding the

newly born, the holy child being adored; the footprints of the crucified one being

licked, as he hangs on the cross; his feet being held and kissed now that he is

risen; the hand, put in the place where the nails went; and then the exclamation

– My Lord and my God!