The First Word: "Father, Forgive them for they do not know what they do!"


            (This first poem is anything but feeble, and is not mine but by a dear parishioner, John Eriksen, may he rest in peace.)


            All were included: the indifferent, those who slapped his face,

            The Chief Priests, hidden by the cruel Centurion's chariot.

            In the distance, an incredible ultimate grace

            Was besought for the self-hung Judas Iscariot.


The Second Word: "This day you shall be with me in paradise!"


            A common thief, that's all he was

            Good for nothing, useless crook

            Suffering excruciating pain, yet deserving his fate.



            The King of the Jews, that's what he is,

            The creator of the heavens, his Father,

            Suffering excruciating pain, the Innocent One



            Never too late to confess the Lord

            The thief hears the Innocent mocked

            In one last chance for charity, he calls:

            Have you no fear of God?

            A living faith

            Life eternal.



The third word: "Woman, Behold your son! Behold your mother."


            All night long in the hospital,

            She holds her child's hand,

            The doctors say it looks grim,

            We'll do whatever we can.


            He feels her warmth, her presence

            Her love makes the pain go away

            Her sorrow is not important now

            All that matters is making it to the day.


            O Mary, the presence that you give,

            To Jesus on the Cross,

            Give now to John and all of us

            Our suffering is no loss.


            The One on  the throne calls out to you

            Proclaims you to be our mother

            Help us embrace our crosses with him

            Replace your son with another.



The fourth word: "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?"          


            All can be endured when there is warmth within,

            The sacrifice is little when the presence is great

            But when abandonment is total, the soul calls out in pain

            Jesus concludes the Work of the Father.


The fifth word: "I thirst"


            A woman of Samaria

            of repute quite deserved

            heard a Jew once ask of her

            for water from a well preserved.


            He really didn't want to drink

            He wanted her to see

            the life that she was living

            was destroying reality.


            She believed his words

            and changed her ways

            and opened a new life

            that Jew had all the water he needed

            from a lady who had been in strife.


            So also to us

            The Lord calls out

            from the crucified throne

            He wants water from our wells,

            It's our hearts he wants for his own.


The sixth word: "Father, into your hands I commend my Spirit!"


            It was his hands that created the world, and separated the waters from the            land.

            It was his hands that fashioned humans, and gave them the capacity to love.

            It was his  hands that  delivered the people, and sent the evil into the sea

            It was his hands that carved the law and gave the path to his own,


            It was into his hands that Jesus completed his work, the work of the Father.


The seventh word: "It is finished"


            Finished? Completed?



            Beaten? Conquered?



            Accomplished! Triumphant!