It was once said to Abraham, "Look toward heaven and number the stars, if you are able to number them" (Gen 15:5).
You too, listener, look with your mind toward heaven, from which a bloody rain pours down upon the Body of Christ. It pours down upon Him who "numbers the multitude of the stars and calls them all by names" (Ps 146:4).
Count, if you can count, the stars, that is, His wounds. They covered His whole Body from head to foot and made it, as it were, one continuous wound.
"There is no healing in My flesh" (Ps 37:4). The skin is torn away, the body has collapsed, and almost only the bones remain.
O spectacle, nowhere seen, nowhere heard, nowhere sufficiently lamented. The Father "chastens the one whom He loves" (Heb 12:6).
God the Father, do You so chastise Your Son that from head to foot there is no uninjured place in Him?
Is this, is this, merciful God, how You show Your mercy to Your Only-begotten and beloved Son, that You have placed Him among fierce dogs and savage lions (Ps 21:14, 17)?
Is this Your good pleasure, O Father, that man should mock Your Son? Can this be Your will, that Your pre-eternal Word should be bound to a pillar?
Now, bound Word, You have no other refuge but the pillar. O Son of God, bound, beaten, and wounded.
The Word of God is shattered, spat upon, and tortured. The heavenly Seed is trampled underfoot, destroyed by the hands of merciless barbarians.
Christ called Himself "the Bread of life" (Jn 6:35), and behold, this Bread has fallen to hungry dogs. He says, "Many dogs surrounded Me; an assembly of the wicked encircled Me" (Ps 21:17).
They tear this Bread with the teeth of their savagery. They cut Him, striking Him with hands, scourges, and rods. They break Him, striking with feet and hands.
"They spat in His face and struck Him" (Mt 26:67). Blood flows in streams from the Fountain of life. Flesh falls in pieces from His holy bones.
Drops of His holy Blood fly throughout the praetorium. He falls to the ground at the pillar, having no strength to stand because of the wounds.
Even there they rain cruel blows down from above. They inflict wound upon wound. They trample Him with their feet and tear Him by the hair.
They try to show as much savagery as possible, taking turns with one another.
Where are Your legions of Angels, Creator of Angels (see Mt 26:53)? Where are Your fiery Seraphim, our God, "a consuming fire" (Heb 12:29)?
Where is Your strength, heavenly Samson? All have recoiled from You. The apostles have left You. The Angels have withdrawn. God the Father has delivered You to death.
You have help from no one and defense from no one. You have no one who would show mercy to You, stand for You at the judgment, and prove Your innocence.
Where are you all, dead, lame, blind, leprous, and infirm, who received life and healing from Christ the Giver of life?
Why do you not defend your Benefactor? Why do you not stand up for your Healer? Why do you not testify to His power and might?
Or have you forgotten how many benefactions He did for you?
All these sufferings, listeners, Christ voluntarily deigned to endure for us. In the Old Covenant it was appointed that every man who was guilty of anything should receive forty lashes (Deut 25:1-3).
Here, however, in relation to You, Lawgiver Christ, this law is not kept, although You did not err in anything and committed no sin.
They inflict not forty wounds, but a countless multitude. You say, "Those who wound gathered against Me, and I was scourged all day" (Ps 34:15; Ps 72:14).
"And they added to the pain of My wounds" (Ps 68:27). Where then is the fulfillment of your words, Psalmist: "No evil shall come near You, nor shall a wound draw near Your Body" (Ps 90:10)?
No. Here are countless wounds inflicted on the Sinless One.
You marveled, Habakkuk, seeing God among the living creatures (see Hab 3:2). Look upon Him here among so many lions and be horrified.
You asked, holy Job, "Who is the father of rain?" (Job 38:28). I ask: how long will this bloody rain flow, and the rivers of the innocent Blood of our Savior?
Already He grows weak. Already He silently sheds tears. Already He wishes to bow His head.
Yet He has no place, who by His almighty power is "everywhere present and fills all things."
"That servant who knew his master's will, and did not prepare himself or do according to his will, shall be beaten with many stripes. But he who did not know, and did things worthy of punishment, shall be beaten with few" (Lk 12:47-48).
You Yourself, Christ the Savior, said this. You fulfilled His will in everything and were obedient to Him in all things.
"He humbled Himself, becoming obedient unto death" (Phil 2:8). You did nothing worthy of wounds, yet You endure unbearable and innumerable wounds.
Why is this? You endure wounds so that our sinful wounds may be healed. You bear all this for our sins: "He suffered for our sins" (1 Pet 3:18).
We, O Christ, deserve those countless wounds which You now patiently bear. We sinned, and You endure the punishment for these sins.
O how great is Your love, Lover of mankind.