Can I forget the bitter tears that the sight of the cross brought streaming from my eyes one Good Friday?

Retreat Journal, December 1814, EO XV n.130

Can I forget … the sight of the cross?” asks Eugene?

Every action of his life, every time that he preached the Gospel, every time that he held out his hands to the poor and most abandoned, it was a proclamation of: “Never can I forget the sight of the cross!”

It is the only distinctive sign that he gave to the Oblates – under which every aspect of our lives is to unfold: “Never forget the sight of the cross!”

Through the eyes of the Crucified Savior” is the only point of view through which the Mazenodian family is called to see the world: “Never forget the sight of the cross!”

At the very end of his life, Father Tempier wrote to the Oblates: “It is not possible to tell you the example he gave, the sentiments he manifested during these three days [of preparing himself for the Sacrament of the sick]. We consider it a special grace to have seen and heard what we did. He cried out:

I am on the cross. I gladly stay on the cross and offer my sufferings to God for my dear Oblates

Circular letter no. 2 of January 29, 1861 in Oblate Writings II, vol. 2, no. 116.

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  1. Eleanor Rabnett, Oblate Associate says:

    I remember the first time I heard someone tell me to see through the eyes of Jesus. Daunting. And the first time someone said “through the eyes of the Crucified Saviour”. Love, immense and unbelievable love, limitless and all encompassing. Anything less would be to see through blinders, to be blind to the larger part of the picture.
    Returning home from Mass last night, I was incredibly tired – but I was okay. I awoke this morning to a letter from my youngest brother, (and then from my sister) about another of my brothers who is dying. After a lifetime of drugs and all that is a part of that lifestyle, of mental and physical illness he is now dying – he actually spoke of to my brother and sister saying that he will kill himself. He sees no way out. Suicide what an awful terrifying word, but that is what he is doing. He is on the cross but one which he sees only himself and his pain – those blinders created over the years make it impossible to see and realise that he is not alone. He has no sense or sight of Jesus there with him. I think of Judas who lost all sight of God, of love and of hope and who walked away in bitter pain to take his life.
    This morning my family and I gather at the foot of the cross, helpless to save him, or undo what he is doing to himself. He does not see who is there with him, not only Jesus crucified but those of us who love him, those of us who see him through the eyes of the Crucified Saviour.
    Today as I approach the cross it is with different eyes than I would have pictured myself as having. I hope that God takes Bill soon – he has struggled for so many years. He needs now to find himself in the embrace of perfect and endless love.
    Jesus, the one who was made the scapegoat for all of us. I see everything today in the light of the Cross. This afternoon I will stand in the shadow of the Cross in a very deliberate way – there is hope but the price paid for that – enormous.
    All I can seem to say – over and over – Jesus remember me, when you come into your kingdom. This all happened thousands of years ago and yet it happens today, now.

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