28 2014
Ecce Homo

Ecce Homo

In a large church
Seated on the aisle
I am quiet, until I see
A man coming toward me
Supported heavily by another man.

He is crippled, paralyzed on one side
Face contorted, dragging his body
Slowly, haltingly
Down the aisle
Toward me.

Slowly, he lifts his gaze
Until his eyes
Remain on mine.
Gradually, I realize
“I know that face and…
We’ve not seen one another in ages.”

So I rise
Step out of the pew
At the moment his friend
Releases him and he collapses
Into my arms.

To my great surprise
I am overwhelmed to know
That this man whom I embrace
Is me,
My own crippled self.

When did I forsake you,
Deny and reject you?
When did I send you away
Or dress you up in party clothes
To cover your scars as if this would heal them?

When did I become an enemy
Of my own soul,
And embrace the divided me
Hidden from those I love,
Blocked from the way to paradise?

But now, today, we are together
My soul and me
As I embrace and gaze upon his wounds.
I do not hide his scars,
The dark and ugly secrets
Asking to come to the light.

He who is all love and mercy made us one, my soul and me,
The One who reconciles all things
For His good purpose and mine,
The One who makes whole
That which looks irretrievably broken.

My wounded, crippled self will come
To me again.
But now, I dare not avert my eyes.
Nor let him pass without a warm embrace.
Lest he remain cold, lonely and unredeemed forever.