It seems likely that after the third word there was a silence of some hours, during which that strange darkness closed in on the hill of Calvary. It is strongly to be recommended to the fervent soul to try to kneel at His feet in spirit during those dark, silent hours. Much will he learn who accustoms himself to the loneliness that pressed down upon the soul of Christ. When we are in pain or overtaken with sorrow, it is only with great difficulty that we can raise our minds to God in prayer. What, we may reverently surmise, was the occupation of Our Lord during the long, silent hours of darkness and loneliness?
Saint Robert Bellarmine puts these words of answer on the lips of Christ: "Indeed, the wounds of My Body, and they were not few, all became as so many mouths beseeching the Father for you, and every drop of My Blood was made a tongue to employ all its eloquence in imploring mercy for you. I prayed for you then, to My Father and to your Father." And the saint would have us unite in spirit with that great pleading that rose up from the Sacred Heart, even when crushed under such a load.
Jesus prayed in the darkness; Jesus prayed when in some mysterious manner He seemed to be abandoned by His heavenly Father. If the soul will but hold on to its promises and efforts in times of spiritual dryness, the sweetness it formerly experienced in prayer will return. But on its return it will be deeper and more satisfying because the soul, purified by dryness, can now draw nearer to the source of all purity.
"My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?" It is not sweetness in prayer that is the criterion of success and progress, but the adherence of the will to God. Calvary taught the saints to pray with all the greater fervour at such a time, and because they learned that hard lesson so well, they rejoiced all the more, later on, in divine consolations.
Our Lord's first three words concerned others the impenitent, the repentant, the fervent. The second three refer to what He Himself is suffering. The first pain He speaks of is His sense of frustration because abandoned by His Father. Now He tells us of the racking thirst that consumes Him. "I thirst." It is said in order that the Scriptures might be fulfilled which foretold that in His thirst He would be given vinegar to drink.
Had He made no mention of this torment we might have been in doubt as to whether He experienced it at all. He bore every suffering in the Passion with such astounding patience that we might have wondered if He permitted this one. He lets us know that He did, not by way of complaining, but in order to give yet another assurance that He omits nothing that love can suggest.
In Gethsemani last night Our Lord prayed that the chalice of suffering might pass from Him, whereas now He speaks of a thirst. It seems as if the dying Saviour would express His readiness to suffer even more if the Father willed it.
Something similar happens in the soul's way of approach to God. At first the hard programme of suffering appals the soul and it prays that God would take away this chalice. But, according as it grows in grace, the soul steels itself to take the chalice into its hands and drink it, and, when it has drunk, it finds itself crying out to its great surprise "I thirst." Each sacrifice is rewarded by a new sense of freedom. A chain snaps each time, emancipating the soul gradually, till it finally gains that freedom characteristic of the sons of God.