Where can the weak find a place of
firm security and peace, except in the wounds of the Savior? Indeed, the more
secure is my place there, the more he can do to help me. The world rages, the
flesh is heavy, and the devil lays his snares, but I do not fall, for my feet
are planted on firm rock. I may have sinned gravely. My conscience would be
distressed, but it would not be in turmoil, for I would recall the wounds of
the Lord: He was wounded for our iniquities. What sin is there so deadly that
it cannot be pardoned by the death of Christ? And so if I bear in mind this
strong, effective remedy, I can never again be terrified by the malignancy of
sin.
Surely the man who said: “My sin is
too great to merit pardon,” was wrong. He was speaking as though he were not a
member of Christ and had no share in His merits, so that he could claim them as
his own, as a member of the body can claim what belongs to the head. As for me,
I can appropriate whatsoever I lack from the Heart of the Lord who abounds in
mercy. They pierced his hands and feet and opened his side with a spear.
Through the openings of these wounds I may drink honey from the rock and oil
from the hardest stone: that is, I may taste and see that the Lord is sweet.
He was thinking thoughts of peace,
and I did not know it, for who knows the mind of the Lord, or who has been his
counselor? But the piercing nail has become a key to unlock the door, that I
may see the good will of the Lord. And what can I see as I look through the
hole? Both the nail and the wound cry out that God was in Christ reconciling
the world to himself. The lance pierced his soul and came close to his heart,
so that he might be able to feel compassion for me in my weaknesses.
Through these sacred wounds we can
see the secret of his heart, the great mystery of love, the sincerity of his
mercy with which he visited us from on high. Where have your love, your mercy,
your compassion shone out more luminously than in your wounds, sweet, gentle
Lord of mercy? More mercy than this no one has than that he lay down his life
for those who are doomed to death.
My merit comes from His mercy; for
I do not lack merit so long as he does not lack pity. And if the Lord’s mercies
are many, then I am rich in merits. For even if I am aware of many sins, what
does it matter? Where sin abounded grace has overflowed. And if the Lord’s
mercies are from all ages forever, I too will sing of the mercies of the Lord
forever. Will I not sing of my own righteousness? No, Lord, I shall be mindful
only of your justice. Yet that too is my own; for God has made you my
righteousness.
Francisco Ribalta, Christ Embracing Saint Bernard, Oil on canvas, 1625-1627, 113 x 158 cm, Museo del Prado, Madrid. Lines from Saint Bernard, Sermons on the Canticle.
