Lignum vitae

Jesus, sold by treachery.

17. For the soul that wishes to consider devoutly the passion of Christ Jesus, the first thing that meets the mind is the perfidy of the traitor, who was so filled with the poison of deceit that he betrayed his Master and Lord; so inflamed with the fire of greed that he sold the best God for silver and valued the most precious blood of Christ at the price of a paltry wage; so ungrateful, finally, that he pursued unto death him who had entrusted all things to him and raised him to the height of apostolic honor; of such hardness, that neither the familiarity of the banquet nor the lowliness of service nor the sweetness of converse could recall him from his conceived malice. O wondrous kindness of the Master toward his hard disciple, of the loving Lord toward his most wicked servant. Surely it were better for him if that man had not been born. But although the impiety of the traitor was unspeakable, yet the sweetest meekness of the Lamb of God surpasses it beyond measure, given as an example to mortals, so that human weakness, provoked by a friend, may no longer say: "If my enemy had reviled me, I would verily have borne with it," for behold a man of one mind who seemed a leader and a friend, who ate the bread of Christ and in that sacred supper took sweet food with him, has lifted up his heel against him. And yet that meekest Lamb, in whom no guile was found, did not refuse to press his lips to the mouth that abounded with malice in the very hour of betrayal with a gentle kiss, offering him everything that could have softened the obstinacy of his depraved heart.

Jesus, praying prostrate.

18. For Jesus, knowing all things that were to come upon him according to the mystery of the most high dispensation, when the hymn was said went out to the Mount of Olives to pray to the Father as was his custom. And then above all, with the agony of death now at hand and with the scattering and desolation of the sheep whom the loving shepherd embraced with tender affection, so terrible was the imagining of death in the sensible nature of Christ that he said: "My Father, if it be possible, let this chalice pass from me." How great moreover was the anguish in the spirit of the Redeemer for various causes, the drops of bloody sweat running down from his whole body to the ground bear witness. "O Lord Jesus, our Ruler, whence comes so vehement an anguish of your soul and so anxious a supplication? Did you not offer to the Father a sacrifice altogether voluntary? Yet so that we, believing in the true nature of our mortality in you, might be formed to faith and in the like endurance of tribulations might be raised to hope and might have greater spurs of love toward you, you expressed the natural weakness of the flesh by these manifest signs, by which we are taught that you truly bore our sorrows and tasted the bitterness of suffering not without the sense of pain."

Jesus, surrounded by the crowd.

19. How ready the spirit in Jesus was for the passion is clearly known from this, that when the men of blood came with the traitor seeking his life with torches and lanterns and weapons through the night, he went out to meet them of his own accord and manifested and offered himself. And that human presumption might know that it could do nothing against him except what he himself permitted, by the word of his almighty power he struck the wicked officers to the ground. But not even then did he restrain his mercy in anger, nor did that honeycomb cease to distill the sweetness of love. For with the touch of his hand he healed the ear of the insolent servant mutilated by the disciple, and he checked the zeal of his defender from harming the assailants. Cursed be their rage, for it is obstinate, since it could be restrained neither by the miracle of majesty nor by the benefit of love.

Jesus, bound with chains.

20. Who, finally, could hear without a groan how in that hour the cruel officers laid murderous hands upon the King of glory, and binding the innocent hands of the meek Jesus with chains, dragged that gentlest Lamb, speaking nothing in reply, insultingly to the sacrifice like a robber? What sting of grief then pierced the hearts of the disciples when they saw their most beloved Master and Lord betrayed by his own fellow disciple, led to death with his hands bound behind his back like an evildoer; and when that most wicked Judas himself, moved afterward to repentance, was filled with such bitterness over this that he preferred to die rather than to live? But woe to that man, who not even so returned through hope of pardon to the fountain of mercy, but, terrified by the cruelty of his own crime, despaired.