CHAPTER 16
AFTER this Christ showed a part of his passion near his death.
I saw his sweet face, dry and bloodless, pale with death. And later, paler still, dead, and languishing; and then turning blue as death approached, and then a brown-blue, as the flesh turned more deeply dead. His passion was shown to me most especially in his blessed face, and chiefly in his lips; for there I saw there four colours; though before, the lips had been fresh, ruddy and pleasing to my sight. This was a pitiful change to see, this deep dying. And as I watched, the inward moisture clotted and dried, and the sweet body was brown and black, quite changed from its fair and lively colour by this dry dying. For at the time when our Lord and blessed Saviour died on the cross, I saw a dry, hard wind and bitter cold. And when the precious blood was finally bled out of the sweet body, all that could pass out of it, yet there was still moisture in the sweet flesh of Christ, as shown to me.
The bloodlessness and pain drying within and the cold and the wind blowing from outside came together in the sweet body of Christ. And these four, two within, two without, dried the flesh of Christ over time. And though this pain was bitter and sharp, it was also long lasting, as I saw, and painfully dried up all the life and spirit in Christ’s flesh. Thus I saw the sweet flesh dry, bit by bit it seemed, with terrible pains. And as long as there was any spirit in Christ’s flesh, for that time he suffered pain.
This long pain towards death seemed to me to have lasted for seven nights, all the while at the point of death and suffering his last pain. And when I say that it seemed to me as if he had been seven nights in his dying, it means that the sweet body was so discoloured, so dry, so shrunken, so deathly and so piteous as if he had been seven nights in his dying. And I thought the drying of Christ’s flesh was the most pain and the end of his passion.
CHAPTER 17
The sight of this dying brought to my mind the words of Christ: ‘I thirst.’
For I saw in Christ a double thirst: one bodily; another spiritual, which I shall speak about in chapter 31.
As for this word, it was shown for the bodily thirst, which I understood was caused by a lack of moisture. For the blessed flesh and bones were left all alone without blood and moisture. The blessed body dried out alone over a long time, with the piercing of the nails and weight of the body. For I understood that because of the tenderness of the sweet hands and the sweet feet, and the size, and terrible hardness of the nails, the wounds were ripped wide and the body weight sagged, hanging there for so long. And then there was his pierced and pressed head, and the tightness of the crown, all baked with dry blood, with the sweet hair and dry flesh clinging to the thorns and the thorns to the flesh, drying; and to begin with, while the flesh was fresh and bleeding, the continual ripping of the thorns made the wounds wide.
And furthermore I saw that the sweet skin and the tender flesh, along with the hair and the blood, were all raised and loosened from the bone, with the thorns cutting through and tearing in many pieces. It was like a sagging cloth, loose and heavy with moisture that would quickly have fallen off. And that was great sorrow and dread for me, for I thought I would not for my life have watched it fall. How it was done I did not see, but understood that it was with the sharp thorns and the violent and grievous way the crown of thorns had been placed, unsparingly and quite without pity.
This continued for awhile, and then it began to change, and I beheld and marvelled how it could be. And then I saw how it was, for as the flesh began to dry, so it began to lose a part of its weight as it was fixed there to the crown. And thus it seemed now there were two circles, crown upon crown. The crown of thorns was dyed with the blood, and the other crown and the head, all one colour, that of clotted blood when it is dry. The skin of the flesh, both face and body, was shrivelled and small with a tanned colour, like a dry board when it is aged; and the face more brown than the body.
I saw four types of drying: the first was bloodlessness; the second was the pain which followed; the third, the hanging up in the air as people hang a cloth to dry; and the fourth, the fact that despite the natural bodily need for liquid, no sort of comfort was offered to him throughout his woe and distress. Ah! Harsh and grievous was his pain, but much more harsh and grievous was the lack of moisture when everything began to dry and shrivel,
These were the pains that were shown in the blessed head: the first caused by the dying, while it had still moisture; and that other, the slow and shrinking drying. The wind blowing around him dried and chilled him with pain more than my heart can bear to think.
And there were other pains; for the pains I describe are not all of them by any means, for the rest cannot be told.
This showing of Christ’s pains filled me full of pain. For I knew well that he suffered but once, but it was as if he wanted to show me and fill my mind in this way just as I had previously asked. And in all this time of Christ’s pains I felt no pain but Christ’s pains. Then I thought I knew but little of the pain I asked for, and feeling wretched, I repented, thinking: ‘If I had known what it was like, I would never have prayed for it, for I thought my pain worse than bodily death.’
I thought: ‘Is any pain like this?’ And I was answered in my reason: ‘Hell is another pain, for there is despair. But of all pains that lead to salvation this is the most pain, to see your love suffer.’ How could any pain be more to me than to see him suffer, for he is my life, my bliss and my joy? At this point, I truly felt that I loved Christ so much more than myself that there was no pain I could suffer like that sorrow that I had when I saw his pain.
CHAPTER 18
HERE I saw some part of the compassion of our Lady, Saint Mary: for Christ and her were so at one in love that the magnitude of her love caused the magnitude of her pain. For in this showing I saw a substance of the natural love that creatures have for him, which is then strengthened by grace. It was a natural love most fully and overwhelmingly shown in his sweet mother; for since she loved him more than all others, so her pains surpassed all others. For the higher, the mightier and the sweeter the love is then the mightier is the lover’s sorrow to see the loved body in pain.
And all his disciples and all his true lovers suffered pains greater than their own bodily death. For I feel sure that the least of them loved him so much more than themselves that it surpasses all I can say.
Here in my understanding I saw a great union between Christ and us; for when he was in pain, we were in pain. And all creatures able to suffer pain, suffered with him; that is to say, all creatures that God has made to our service. Both firmament and earth failed for sorrow in their nature in the time of Christ’s dying. For it is natural for them to know him as their God; the one in whom their entire virtue stands. So when he failed, then it was natural for them to fail with him, and to sorrow at his pains, given their shared nature.
And in this way those who were his friends suffered pain for love. And indeed, all people; that is to say, even those who did not know him, suffered for the loss of his particular comfort found in the strong inner keeping of God. I speak of two types of people, as shown in two individuals: one is Pilate and the other is Dionysius of France, who at that time was a pagan. For when he saw with marvelling wonder the sorrows and fears that befell Christ in that time, he said: ‘Either the world is now at an end, or he who made the natural world is suffering.’ Whereupon he wrote on an altar: ‘This is the altar of the unknown God.’
The God who of his goodness makes the planets and the elements to work naturally for both the blessed and the cursed, withdrew them from both at that time; and so it was that those who did not know him were also sorrowful at that time.
In this way, our Lord Jesus was made as naught for us; and in like manner, we stand as naught with him, and shall do until we come to his bliss, as I shall speak of later.
CHAPTER 19
At this time, I would have looked up from the cross, but I dared not. For I knew well that while I beheld the cross I was secure and safe; therefore I would not assent to put my soul in peril. Away from the cross there was no protection from the frightening fiends.
Then a thought came to my mind, as if it had been given by a friend: ‘Look up to heaven to his Father.’ And then I clearly saw, with the eyes of faith, that there was nothing between the cross and heaven that could harm me. Either it was necessary to look up or else to answer. I answered inwardly with all the might of my soul, and said: ‘No; I may not, for you are my heaven.’ This I said because I would not look up; for I would rather have remained in that pain till Doomsday than to come to heaven by means other than him. And I knew well that he who so painfully bound me, would unbind me when he saw fit. And so it was I learned to choose Jesus over my heaven, though I saw him only in pain at that time. I liked no other heaven than Jesus, and this shall be my happiness when I arrive there.
And this has always been a comfort to me, that by his grace, I chose Jesus as heaven, throughout his passion and sorrow; and that has taught me that I should always do so: choose only Jesus as my heaven in both health and hardship.
And though I as a wretched creature repented of my prayer (I said before that if I had known what pain it would be, I would have been loathed to pray it), here I truly saw that it was merely the reluctance and frailty of the flesh without the assent of the soul, to which God assigns no blame. Repentance and deliberate choice are two different things yet I felt both at that time. And these are there in both parts of us: the one outward, the other inward. The outward part is our mortal flesh which is now in pain and woe, and shall be, in this life. I felt much of this in these days and it was that part of me which repented. The inward part is a higher, more blissful life, which is rooted in peace and in love, and this was more inwardly felt. It was from this aspect of my self that I mightily, wisely and with steadfast will I chose Jesus as my heaven.
And in this I saw truly that the inward part is master and sovereign of the outward, and does not take note of or pay heed to its will; but rather, all intent and will is set to be at one with our Lord Jesus. That the outward part should bring the inward to agreement was not shown to me; but that by grace the inward brings the outward to agreement and that both shall be one in bliss without end, by the virtue of Christ this was shown.
CHAPTER 20
And thus I saw our Lord Jesus languishing for a long time. For his oneness with the Godhead gave strength to his humanity to suffer for his love more than anyone else might suffer. I mean not only more pain than all might suffer, but also that he suffered more pain than all who are saved from the very beginning of time to the last day might be able tell of or conceive, concerning the worthiness of the highest and most honourable king and his shameful, despised and painful death. For he that is highest and worthiest was most completely made nothing and most utterly despised. And the highest point that may be touched in the passion is to think and know who it is that suffered.
And in this showing he brought to mind, in part, the height and nobility of the glorious Godhead, and therefore also the preciousness and tenderness of the blessed body, which is united with it; as well as the loathing of pain that is in our nature. For as much as he was most tender and pure, equally was he most strong and mighty in suffering. And it was for the sin of everyone who shall be saved that he suffered; and everyone’s sorrow and desolation he saw and grieved for in his kindness and love. In as much as our Lady sorrowed for his pains, so he suffered sorrow for her sorrow; and more, as his sweet manhood was worthier when compared. For as long as it was possible he suffered for us and sorrowed for us; and now he is risen and it is possible no more, still he suffers with us.
And I, beholding all this by his grace, saw that his love for our soul was so strong that he willingly chose it with great resolve, and suffered as if mildly, making light of it.
For the soul that beholds things in this way, when touched by grace, shall truly see that the pains of Christ’s passion surpass all pains. That is to say, all pains shall be turned into everlasting and transcending joys by the virtue of Christ’s passion.
CHAPTER 21
I longed for him to die with all my might, and thought I saw his body dead. But I was apparently mistaken, for at the same time I thought this: ‘The life might be gone and the showing necessarily brought to an end.’ Then suddenly, as I beheld the same cross, the look on his blessed face changed. The changing of his blessed countenance changed mine, and I was as glad and merry as it was possible to be. Then our Lord brought a merry thought to mind: ‘Where now is the point of your pain or your grief?’ And I was very cheered, and now understood that in our Lord’s meaning, we are in his cross with him, there in his pains and his passion, dying; and with his help, we willingly remain in the same cross and his grace unto the end when suddenly his face will change and we shall be with him in heaven. Between the one and the other, there shall be no time, and then shall all be brought to joy. And this is what he said in this showing: ‘Where now is the point of your pain or your grief?’ And we shall be full of bliss.
And here saw I truly that if he were to reveal his blissful cheer to us now, there is no pain in earth or in any other place that could trouble us; but that all things would be to us joy and bliss. But instead he shows us his passion, as he bore it in this life and on his cross, and so we are in distress and travail with him, as our frailty dictates. And the reason why he allows it to be so is because his good wills to make us all the higher with him in his bliss; and for this little pain that we suffer here, we shall have a high and endless knowing in God which we could never have had otherwise. And the more we have endured our pains with him in his cross, the more shall our glory be with him in his kingdom.