Ripples of My Christ
by Mario Gerada
I read to be one
with the suffering of Christ
and with Christ on the cross.
And I saw a Christ on the cross with multitudes behind Him
crying and sobbing and suffering themselves with their suffering God.
But then I saw a Christ walking tired in deserted streets,
where no one listened, no one followed.
He sat tiredly on a rock, gazing at Himself on the cross
surrounded by women and men.
Being one with Christ on the cross,
but being with Christ
when He uttered the words of hope,
when He healed the sick,
when He spoke to release,
when He shed light on dark paths,
when He embraced
when He forgave
when He looked at Magdalene with loving eyes
and when He did not fear the high priests.
Only then can we be one with Christ,
suffering on the cross
because of His own cause.
can we be one with the resurrected Christ,
when we were one with Him,
in everyday life,
when like Him and with Him,
with simplicity, love and strength,
shake the pillars of a society
imprisoned in its old sins,
of a society that breaks down souls
not to break down rules,
in a society that constructed safe ways to go to heaven
but leaves its people
to live in hell.
On Sunday the Churches are full
but Christ walks alone by the shore,
where only the sea kisses his feet,
where only the birds greet him with songs,
where only the earth glorifies his paths.
His ways are too rough,
His garments are too simple to wear,
His words are too powerful to say,
His life too dangerous to follow.
To live with Him
is to live in peace,
but to live in peace
is to shed what we are, to become.
To be one with Christ
to find oneself loving
whom we were thought to hate,
to find oneself amidst one’s own fears
only to understand
that they were only ghosts
who disappear in the presence of light.
The human spirit has resided too long
in the safety of tradition and past beliefs,
only to save a few
and bless others
A lonely Christ,
walking in our dusty streets
but there is no one to wash His dusty feet.
His simple garments has been stained
while washing our souls
and mending our hearts
but now there is no one to wash
His dirty clothes.
Who will wash Thy feet?
or lay on Thy chest?
or eat on Thy table?
and pray with You in the garden of olives?
© 2013 Mario Gerada
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