herodes

My Divine King, I want to repeat your prayers and reparations... 

as I accompany You to Herod.

I see that your enemies, enraged, would want to devour You, and they lead You among insults, mockeries and derisions. So, they make You arrive before Herod, who, swelling up, asks You many questions.

You do not answer him, and do not even look at him. And Herod, irritated because he does not see his curiosity satisfied, and feeling humiliated by your long silence, declares to all that You are crazy and mindless, and he orders that You be treated as such. 

And to mock You, he has You clothed with a white garment, and he delivers You into the hands of the soldiers, that they may do with You the worst they can...

My Jesus, infinite Wisdom... 

how much it costs You being declared insane! 

Abusing You, the soldiers cast You to the ground, trample You, smear You with spit, despise You, beat You with rods, and the blows are so many that You feel You are dying. The pains, the ignominies, the humiliations they inflict on You, are so great and so many that the Angels weep, and cover their face with their wings in order not to see them.

My crazy Jesus... 

I too want to call You crazy...

but crazy with love! 

And your folly of love is such that, instead of becoming upset, You pray and repair for the ambitions of the kings and of the leaders, who aspire to kingdoms for the ruin of the peoples. For the many slaughters they cause, and the so much blood they cause to be shed for their whims. For the sins committed in the courts, in the palaces, and in the militia.

My Jesus, how tender it is to see You pray and repair... 

in the midst of so many outrages! 

Your voice resounds in my heart...

and I follow whatever You do. 

[Passie, 7-8u]