Perhaps you are filled with shame
for causing my bitter passion.
This cross inflicts a mortal injury,
not on me, but on death.
These nails no longer pain me,
but only deepen your love for me.
Because of these wounds,
I draw you into my heart.
My body was stretched on the cross
as a symbol,
not of how much I suffered,
but of my all-embracing love.
God desires not death, but faith;
God thirsts not for blood, but for self-surrender;
God is appeased not by slaughter,
but by the offering of your free will.
Peter Chrysologus
No comments:
Post a Comment