JMJ. Something came to me the other day. I was out walking the dog and saying a mental Rosary at the same time. (And my wife says I need to learn to multi-task!) I won't say that it was an epiphany. But I had been thinking about our Lord's mortality and how He was so overcome with fear in the garden of Gethsemane that it was necessary for angels to minister to Him. How amazing, I wondered, to be allowed to bear up the Creator in His distress.
And it was only a few hours later that His steps faltered again and His strength came well-nigh to failing Him as His broken body was called upon to carry His own cross to Golgotha. But it was not an angel this time who came to His aid but a mere man, St. Simon of Cyrene, who was called upon to offer Him aid. Not His divine Self which supplied His own strength, not heavenly angels this time, but a man--a poor sinner just as I am who was allowed to accompany Him to the place of His execution.
His Holy Mother could only pray for Him and weep for Him, St. Veronica wiped the blood and spittle and sweat from His face, and all of His disciples fled Him in fear of the Romans and the Jews. Only one man helped Him bear the weight of that fearsome tree and he was forced to do so. But what a vocation!
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