My intention with this column was to share some musings on the words of Pontius Pilate as he presented the tortured Jesus—the icon of “extreme humility”—to the crowd: “Ecce homo”; behold the man.
They have become my Holy Week lectio divina, those two words, prompting me again and again to see the people I observe through a broader lens, one that curves through the light-filled wounds of Christ. The tired mother impatiently tugging the hand of the even more tired little girl? Ecce homo: the put-upon Jesus, wondering where he can lay his head. The India-born priest struggling to make the love of God understood in his homily, then continuing with mass? Ecce homo: the Christ, still misunderstood by his own friends, offering a blessing and feeding a multitude. The teenage boy who slinks sullenly into the pew but ends up entering into the mass in a moving way? Ecce homo: Jesus in Gethsemane, preferring the cup to pass yet surrendering to God’s plan.
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