The flagellation: second painful mystery 

by Ottavio De Bertolis

Contemplating the flagellation of the Savior means entering into the mystery by which He chose to save the world precisely by humbling himself, that is, by renouncing what would have been rightfully his, what was right, what would have been due. Flagellation is painful not only from a physical point of view; what makes it truly unbearable is its injustice. Jesus is continually provoked during his trial: but He did not open his mouth, he did not assert his reasons, he did not even ask the Father for a legion of angels to free him. He renounced to take justice into his own hands, to assert his rights, entrusting his cause to the Father, placing his own suffering in his hands.

Truly, as we contemplate this scene we can remember how Paul summarizes the whole life of Jesus with that “he humbled himself”. I can accept suffering, I can accept the heaviest hardships, I can, as they say, spit blood, but at least a thank you, a recognition, a word of gratitude is right. For Jesus, nothing; but it is precisely through this non-thanksgiving, this dis-knowledge, this ingratitude, that Jesus saves us, because he could not forgive her unless he suffered it. It seems to me that the hatred of the world and the indifference of his people have been written in the very flesh of Jesus, to the point of branding it; but thus, assuming all this, he took it upon himself, into himself, and bore witness to how he loved us to the end, that is, to this extreme of injustice and ingratitude. He welcomed into himself what we were capable of doing with Him: he came among his own, but his own did not welcome him. And our collaboration in redemption, that is, the following that he asks of us, is right here, in repeating the same. In fact he told us to choose the last place. Now, can I accept being in the middle, and I'm not so presumptuous as to want the first, but the last? This is the point, this is the flagellation, which, if it touches us, makes us scream in pain. Not to mention that what hurts is not only occupying a place that we know is not deserved, but, above all, that another takes the place that we would have wanted, another who certainly doesn't deserve it, after all, just as Barabbas was pardoned, and Christ condemned. Again, it is not disappointment or pain that hurts us, but the injustice of these. Jesus did not come to abolish the law, but to fulfill it, surpassing it, and so he asks us to welcome all this. The saints even tell us that they desire it: I don't hope so much, but at least we ask for grace, when the opportunity arises to be humiliated, that is, simply not thanked, neglected, forgotten, disesteemed, to "take it the right way" - to to put it this way, without too many mystical impulses - that is, in the words of Saint Francis, to endure "infirmity and tribulation" by forgiving, free from resentment and revenge, or simply from the desire for revenge. Of course this does not mean that we cannot say, with Jesus: “If I have spoken badly, tell me where I went wrong; but if I have spoken well, why do you strike me?”. Furthermore, it is clear that we must know how to give up our rights, but instead we must defend those of others. I simply mean that there will always be a part of injustice in this world that will be visited upon us, because the vile, the wicked, the wicked, in a word our enemies, just as the Psalms describe them, actually exist: and it is also true, as Manzoni says, that at a certain point it is simply a question of choosing whether to tolerate evil or do it. Finally, we ask to have eyes to see the many poor Christs who continue to be flagellated, and to bring them consolation. It is true that Jesus said that what we would have done to just one of these least of his brothers, we would have done to Him. He says to Saint Catherine of Siena: “I ask you to love me with the same love with which I love you. However, you cannot do this to me, because I loved you without being loved. Every love that you have towards me is a due love and not a gratuitous one, because you have to do it, while I love you gratuitously and not in a due way. So you cannot give me the love that I ask of you. And therefore I have given you the possibility of your neighbor, so that you do for him what you cannot do for me, that is, to love him without any limit of gratuitousness and without expecting any benefit.