The veneration we have come to look upon our Lord with is a direct result of how vulnerable He made Himself in our behalf. “Vulnerable” has a Latin origin that developed into the French word “vulnerare” – to wound. It is our Lord’s wounds that make Him so wonderful; His pain is what made Him so precious. Though being in the very form of God, He condescended to taking the form of a man, becoming not a sovereign – rather a servant, choosing vulnerability over venerability.
He offered His back to those who beat Him. He turned His cheeks to those who tore out His beard. He did not hide His face from mocking and spitting. He stood silent as He was falsely condemned and cruelly mocked. He was despised and rejected of men, a man of sorrows well acquainted with grief. Like one from whom men hide their faces, He was despised and we esteemed Him not. The we – were His own people – we received Him not because we esteemed Him not.
Surely He took up our infirmities, and carried our sorrows, yet we considered Him stricken by God, smitten by him, and afflicted. But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon Him, and by His wounds we are healed.
He made Himself vulnerable, despicable, condemnable, contemptible so that His Father might become venerable. His vulnerability before men is the reason for His venerability with God. His own rejected Him, His Father respected Him.
Next time we are tempted to grow weary or murmur about the wounds we receive at the hands of others, let’s consider Him who endured such contradiction of sinners so that we do not grow weary and lose heart. If we hope to share in the joy of His veneration, we must first embrace the pain of His vulnerability.
His wounds are still visible in heaven – His vulnerability will be venerated for eternity.
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