Everyone suffers, at least sometimes, from depression. Nothing is easier at such a period than to throw aside all one's spiritual strivings, forget all one's resolutions, and fling oneself recklessly into the whirlpool existence of sin and sinful enjoyment where one can find so many delightful companions. All these gay people have cast off the restraints of religion and seem to thrive; why do I want to be different? Depression can ruin my spiritual life. It can make it seem a mirage.
On the other hand, it can be a decided lift to higher things. It can teach me to look below the surface and see life as Christ sees life. This feeling of dissatisfaction and discontent with everything and everyone, what else is it but a most cogent argument to convince me I am made for something far, far superior to this world? I am attacked by an unaccountable fit of weariness; there is restlessness and an apparent inability to settle down to work or play or prayer. What does it mean?
Here on Calvary I find the answer. Our Lord's second word is spoken to the repentant thief. Here on his cross the thief had sounded the depths of depression. His whole world had collapsed; would this Christ dying by his side be able, perhaps, to do something for him? It was, if you will, a poor compliment to Our Lord that the thief turned to Him only after he had drunk to the dregs the intoxications of sin and found them unsatisfying. When all else fails, he calls out and says: "Lord, remember me."
We could never dream of treating an earthly friend like this. He offers me his friendship and I reject it. Instead, I go my way, to seek those whom I consider more congenial, only to discover that I, in my turn, am unwanted. Suppose I go on like this for years and there is nobody left to fall back upon, and now I seek him out and show myself willing to be his friend. If even now he will have me, I may surely congratulate myself on having found a friend whose friendship must be almost unique.
"Almost," because it is here precisely that Our Lord proves Himself so immeasurably superior to all others. Reject a human friend, add insult to injury and normally the friendship is ended forever. Because I have spurned him for years I cannot go back to him now. But Jesus Christ is different. At any price He will have me and at any time, even up to my last breath.
Disappointed I may be with sin and my folly, disillusioned I may be by the specious promises of the world, depressed and weary of life. That is often Christ's moment. It was at such a moment that the thief saw the light. It was when all else had turned to ashes that he at last understood where to seek and to find a friendship that would endure.
And the vastly consoling truth is that Christ accepts him, even now. "This day thou shalt be with Me in paradise." A sentence that surely must have nearly broken the heart of the thief with joy and wonderment. But the joy was scarcely without alloy. The disaster it is that life is gone and he has discovered Christ only now!
The first word was spoken on behalf of the impenitent and the second was a promise of immediate forgiveness and entire remission of sin to a repentant sinner. Our Lord now looks upon His Mother and John and Magdalene at His feet.
This little group represents those souls who arc trying to be genuinely holy. Mary is perfect; John is the dearly beloved disciple because of the unsullied purity and innocence of his virginal soul; Magdalene is the woman who once was a sinner, but to her much has been forgiven because she loved much.
Jesus, if the only companion of Your Blessed Mother was the spotless disciple John, I would never dare join this group of Your special friends. I know that all who would be friends and children of the Immaculate Mary must be without sin. If I cannot stand by her here on the same side as John, I can go round to the other side and there find Magdalene, the repentant sinner, who is equally near her.
By her presence here, Mary increases enormously the sufferings of Christ. Nor are her presence and its consequence the result of an accident. It is further evidence of Our Lord's desire to prove His love by seeking to suffer. It was anguish to Him to be the occasion of such pain to her whom He loved of all others the best. But He willed it thus, and Mary accepted it thus, because "suffering is the badge of those who love."
Jesus, it would have been so easy for You to spare Mary this sorrow and this deep wound to Your own Heart. It would have been easy, for instance, to so arrange things that Your Mother would have been up at Nazareth during these terrible days, and that she would learn of Your Passion only when its bitterness would be assuaged by the joys of the Resurrection. Why You did not arrange things thus I see well in this place of my prayer.