THE SEVEN LAST WORDS:

ELEMENTS OF A PRIESTLY SPIRITUALITY

By Carmen Mele, O.P.

Knowing what we do about Scripture, we can no longer claim that Jesus uttered all of the
so-called seven last words from the cross. These sentences reflect such different situations and
sentiments that it is, in a literal sense, incredible to imagine that all of them were emitted during
the same historical event.
Nevertheless, some parishes retain the custom of a service featuring commentaries on all
seven of Jesus’ last words. Certainly the material is significant. Although the evangelists treat
every word attributed to Jesus with care, they surely give particular attention to his final
pronouncements. As the Deuteronomic author highlights Moses’ exhortation to “choose life” in
his final discourse to the Israelites, the evangelists undoubtedly want to emphasize Jesus’ parting
messages.
I believe that the Good Friday service of preaching the “Seven Last Words” still has
currency. Although it might be done at another moment during the final weeks of Lent, it serves
to deepen the genuine Christian spirituality of the cross. Catholics especially are being called to
live with sacrifice which finds its most relevant parallel in Jesus’ crucifixion. Where “choosing
the lesser of two evils” describes the typical moral concern today, Catholics are instructed to
only and always do what is good – an option that typically requires significant sacrifice. We can
and should refer to Jesus on the cross as our model.
Still, preaching the “Seven Last Words” needs to conform to biblical study. We should
acknowledge differences among evangelical viewpoints and explain how each gives us a
different glimpse of the divine mystery whom we know as Jesus Christ. For example, the
context of the crucifixion in Mark’s gospel – Jesus’ torturous hanging without any moral support
whatsoever– needs to be distinguished from that of John’s where he is enthroned upon the cross
with loved ones, two of whom we might call “ideal disciples,” at his side.
What follows is a text-sensitive reflection for priests on the “Seven Last Words.” The
insights into the passion narratives come almost exclusively from Fr. Raymond E. Brown’s
magisterial The Death of the Messiah (Doubleday, 1994). The observations on priestly ministry
have been gathered over the past twenty-five years in the U.S., Latin America, and (briefly) Italy.
What is said here about priestly spirituality may be adapted without much difficulty for lay
people in a parochial service.

I. “My God, my God, why [to what purpose (Mt), for what reason (Mk)] have you
forsaken me?” (Mt 27.46b; Mk 16:34b)1
We begin with Jesus’ only statement from the cross in the passion accounts of Matthew
and Mark, the first of the seven found in the traditional ordering of the gospels. Most preachers
are aware that Matthew quotes Jesus in the vernacular using Hebrew while Mark has him
speaking Aramaic. But the difference between the two extends farther. The Greek translation
that either evangelist supplies differs slightly from each other although both are commonly
translated with “why…?” Matthew has Jesus requesting from God the end or purpose of His
silence. Was it to enhance Jesus’ suffering or, possibly, to test his obedience? Mark, by
contrast, quotes Jesus as asking God for a more general explanation of his being left forlorn. A
possible answer here would be that his suffering was required as an example of selfless love for
the people. The difference of intent between the two questions appears very subtle to English
speakers, but it is more obvious in Spanish where the “why” of Matthew should be translated as
“¿para qué?” and the “why” of Mark “¿por qué?” In either case, the query -- mostly rhetorical
anyway -- goes unanswered in the texts.
Some preachers, perhaps embarrassed by the negativity of the question on Jesus’ lips,
point out that it begins Psalm 22 which ends on a strikingly positive note. Could it be, then, that
the first two evangelists only mean to indicate that Jesus is praying a very traditional prayer to
God which is actually meant to indicate reliance? This is not likely for two reasons. First, both
Matthew’s and Mark’s Greek readers would not likely have recognized the phrase as part of a
psalm prayer. Also, even if they did recognize the psalm, they probably would not have recalled
the victorious note on which it ends given the preponderance of verses in which the psalm tells
of danger and defeat. Secondly, Jesus’ using the general name “God” and not the intimate
appellation “Father,” with which he prayed in Gethsemane, bespeaks the evangelists’
understanding of a felt distance between the son Jesus and God at this moment.
Nevertheless, it must be acknowledged that Jesus is praying here. He is not despairing of
God or, what would be much worse, cursing God’s name. He is only expressing profound
disappointment that God has not come to his rescue in this life. The words correspond to the

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somber scene that the evangelists describe: mockeries on every side and even the sun losing its
light. Still, Jesus adheres to his mission in the gloom of defeat. Despite the lack of a response,
Jesus never loses hope in God.
Perhaps at no time in American history have priests been persecuted as much as at the
present. All of us know of other priests who are being totally marginalized for an indiscreet act
done many years ago and long repented of. Even more disturbing is the fact that some priests are
being accused of fictitious abuse. No doubt these good men pray daily with Jesus on the cross,
“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
There is a much larger segment of priests, however, who feel abandoned without many
people knowing it. I dare say that it is an almost universal sentiment among priests. It is, after
all, very difficult to live as a chaste celibate in a culture that exalts sexual ecstasy. We feel
lonely without anyone to hold and caress. The trouble may be compounded when another person
has left us the impression of a desire for intimacy and we feel unsure how to respond. Jesus’ cry
then becomes even more our own.
Just as there is no use in running from such situations, no good is done by allowing them
to overwhelm us. We not only have taken a vow of celibacy, we have also received God’s grace
to remain chaste. Like Jesus we suffer loneliness, and like him we pray. In this situation it is
very helpful to recall the reasons and purpose (the por ques and para que) of celibacy. Celibacy
serves the Church well as a countersign to a culture obsessed with sex and ego. Further, it frees
priests to render service to the People of God without the preoccupation of supporting a family.
The purpose of celibacy, however, (its para que) is really to facilitate priests’ greater conformity
to Christ. It moves us to more frequent prayer, to deeper ecclesial commitment, and to greater
personal oblation. Celibacy may sometimes feel like a great burden. Properly viewed, however,
it affords us the greatest gift – a profoundly intimate relationship with Jesus Christ.
Why then do priests continue to leave the active ministry? It may be that a few were not
properly prepared to live a celibate life or have not received the charism of celibacy. I think that
there is usually another, simpler reason that determines even more departures. Priests leave
because they lose focus of their purpose. They confuse results with mission and become over-
concerned with performance and under-concerned about their conformity to Christ. When I was
a young priest in the Diocese of San Angelo (Texas), Bishop Fiorenza exhorted his presbytery to
1
All Scriptural references are taken from The New American Bible with the revised New Testament, St. Joseph
Edition, and New York: Catholic Book Publishing company, 1987.

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say the Office of Readings daily. Now, I do not see strict attention paid even to Morning and
Evening Prayer. Some of us have likewise abandoned the unfailing practice of daily mass.
Without taking to heart the Prayer of the Church we can expect our devotion to Christ to
diminish.

II. “Father, forgive them, they know not what they do” (Lk 23:34a).
The “them” in Jesus’ prayer for forgiveness is ambiguous. Luke never mentions Roman
soldiers crucifying Jesus, but surely they were so much a part of the communal memory of the
event that he envisions troopers on the scene. Also, Luke clearly holds that the Jewish leaders
and, indeed, all the people were responsible for the death of Jesus. So Jesus’ plea is made on
behalf of both Romans and Jews who collaborated to put Jesus to death.
Students of Scripture are aware that the statement under consideration here, which
Raymond Brown calls “perhaps the most beautiful sentence in the passion narratives,”2 is absent
from some important New Testament manuscripts. Yet it is still probable that it was part of
Luke’s original text since it conforms to the ever-compassionate God that Jesus proclaims
throughout the third gospel. Furthermore, we note a parallel between this prayer and the “Lord’s
Prayer” where Jesus also joins “Father” (in Luke he does not prefix the salutation with “our”)
with the need to forgive. Also, in Luke’s gospel Jesus exhorts his disciples to “pray for those
who maltreat you” (6:29). Finally, we can point out a plausible motive for the exclusion of the
statement in certain manuscripts. In the second century after the Jewish persecution of the
Church when Christian scribes were busy copying the original text, it might have seemed to
these copyists too conciliatory to say that the Jewish leaders did not know what they were doing
when they conspired to execute Jesus.
We might think that the statement under consideration should be connected with our
ministry of reconciliation. But we should recognize that in it Jesus is not forgiving his
executioners but praying that God forgives them. Therefore, it is more logical to associate
“Father, forgive them…” with the critical need that we priests be people of prayer as discussed
above. However, more than either forgiveness or prayer, it is Jesus’ sublime graciousness that
radiates here like a wood-burning stove on a freezing day. He benignly beseeches forgiveness as

2
Raymond E. Brown, The Death of the Messiah, New York: Doubleday, 1994, Vol. 2, 980.

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he is being cruelly tortured! It is becoming of priests as evangelizers to emulate this good-
heartedness.
Regrettably, priests are as likely to mimic the contrariness of our adversarial society. We
often feel resentful of the many demands on our time and energy. New rubrics can challenge our
sense of proprietorship of the sacraments. Critical parishioners may undermine our authority.
Bishops may seem aloof and unable to “get it” (i.e., whatever priests see as critical to pastoral
ministry). Somehow we have to transcend these obstacles to find peace of heart.
Years ago when I was studying for the priesthood in Washington, I read a pamphlet by
Henri Nouwen that changed my life. Entitled “From Resentment to Gratitude,” the short work
analyzes the frustration and anger that seemed to pervade many seminarians and priests at the
time and that persists today. Nouwen writes, “It has become clear how resentment makes us men
of little faith, little hope and little charity.” He goes on to prescribe confessing our tendency to
give in to resentment so that “we can create space for forgiveness and allow God’s grace to make
us new men.”
Nouwen states the purpose of seminary education (and he might as well have said a chief
goal of life as well) as the making of rivals into friends and revengeful competitors into thankful
receivers. “This might sound pious,” he writes, “but it really asks for the humble recognition
that our life is not an inalienable property to be defended but a gift to be shared. All we have is
given to us. The only thing we can give is thanks.”3 Then he goes on to remind the reader that
“Eucharist” means “thanksgiving.” If what we should be doing every day is efficacious at all, it
should make us gracious in face of all the bitterness that surrounds us.

III.“Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise” (Lk 23:43).
These words of Jesus are directed, of course, to the so-called good thief although Luke
never calls him anything but a “wrong-doer.” This latter term is still a more favorable
designation than “revolutionaries” which Mark and Matthew use to describe the two men
crucified with Jesus. We should keep in mind that this man is crucified for a serious crime as he
himself admits. Obviously, though, he appears repentant (although, again, Luke does not say so)
as he acknowledges the justice of his punishment.

3
Henri J.M. Nouwen, “From Resentment to Gratitude,” Synthesis Series pamphlet (1974), p. 24 (emphasis in the
original).

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 Revelatory of Jesus’ mission of divine mercy, Luke quotes him as making a solemn reply
to the criminal begging a favor. Where Mark and Matthew put the stately “Amen, I say to
you…” on Jesus’ lips to introduce the prophecy of Peter’s denial, Luke transfers it to this
pronouncement of a blessing. Jesus then promises the dying man more than he would have
dared to imagine.
“Today” or, better, “this day” refers to the same day but also has an eschatological tone.
Since it is the day in which the ultimate battle with evil is being won, the wrong-doer will now
enter paradise in full glory. Likewise, “…with me” has a significant second meaning. It
indicates that Jesus has in mind not only a heavenly reward but also intimacy with himself. This
is the reward of discipleship which the culprit implicitly requests when he calls Jesus by name
without any honorific (the only instance in all the gospels) and asks to be remembered. At the
Last Supper Jesus tells his disciples that those who remain with him in his trials will receive the
reward of his kingdom (Lk 22:28-30). Now, at the hour of the definitive in-breaking of the
Kingdom, he reissues his promise to one who is indeed at his side during his final ordeal.
The vignette regarding the “good thief” demonstrates once again God’s unconditional
love for sinners exercised through Jesus. It is not only this one criminal who receives salvation,
but all sinners are redeemed through Jesus’ sacrifice. We should also note how Jesus’ promise to
the wrong-doer culminates a series of mercies extended throughout Luke’s passion narrative.
First, Jesus heals the severed ear of the servant in the garden; then he shows concern for the
women of Jerusalem as he carries his cross to his own death; and then he prays for his
executioners. We could say that this is not so much the story of the “good thief” as it is of the
“good Jesus.”
Similar to Jesus, we priests should be people of blessing. This means, of course, that we
do more than bless people, although praying thoughtfully over others can bring great solace. We
should also strive to meet other human needs. Author Jan Karon has written a series of novels
featuring an Episcopalian priest named Fr. Tim Kavanaugh. The hero is described as praying
every morning, “Father, make me a blessing to someone today.” Taking care with the weekday
homily, providing encouraging words along with a sandwich to a local drunkard, and phoning
parishioners on their birthdays are tangible ways to be a blessing to others. The Catechism says
that in His incarnate Word God “fills us with his blessings” (#1082). Christ is not only our
greatest blessing but the greatest blessing imaginable. We bless others when we do good things

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for them in Christ’s name. Indeed, we priests are blessed just to have so many opportunities
every day to do good for others.

IV. “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit” (Lk 23:46a).

Jesus’ death cry in Luke is not as violent as its counterparts in Matthew and Mark. The
Greek here speaks only of a crying out in contrast to the original words of the first two gospels
indicating a scream. Also, Luke records Jesus’ crying out only once where the other Synoptic
writers mention two such outbursts. Nevertheless, Luke means to convey the same sense of
apocalyptic end-time with its concomitant judgment upon those who mock Jesus.
Of course, Jesus’ final words in Luke contrast dramatically from those in Mark and
Matthew. Bespeaking composure, these words characterize the prayerful trust that Jesus has
displayed throughout the Lucan passion narrative. In Gethsemane Luke shows Jesus on his
knees praying confidently to his Father and receiving the help he requests. By contrast, in the
first two gospels where Jesus’ words are more desperate and his posture more suppliant, his plea
apparently goes unheeded. Luke again softens the scene at the cross by changing the troubled
question, “’My God, my God, why …?’” to the tranquil declaration, “’Father, into your hands I
commend my spirit.’” In both cases, God is addressed, but in Luke Jesus calls God by his
emblematic “Father.” In both cases once more, the evangelists use a verse from a psalm of
deliverance, but here again the difference is telling. Where Mark and Matthew cite the most
desperate verse of Psalm 22, Luke employs the most reassuring verse from Psalm 31.
The obvious intent of these last words in Luke is to indicate how Jesus trusted in Divine
Providence. Priestly spirituality calls us to do no less. We must be willing to rejoice over
goodness and to bear with evil as signs of God’s care for us. In our time when entire dioceses
and religious provinces are staring bankruptcy in the face, priests’ talking about Providence
transcends the theoretical. Trusting in God, we always should act ethically and simplify our
lives as we imagine Jesus would do.
Just as critical, we have to be ready to explain to others the strange ways in which the
Father sometimes acts. This is no easy task since it involves illuminating the somber problem of
evil. How can we call God “good” with so much evil lurking in the world? In the wake of the
2004 Christmas tsunami David Hart, a contemporary Orthodox theologian, wrote that the
Thomistic answer – that God will ultimately justify all the evil which humans experience -- leads

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us to a un-Christian-like complacency about evil.4 His solution to the dilemma is to take an
intermediate stand between the traditional position and that of process theology which sees
humans as joining forces with God in the struggle against evil. The victory has been won, he
assures us, but it is still to come. But do we not have a skip of logic here?
We really cannot resolve the problem of evil by doing any better than interpreting God’s
answer to Job for contemporary times. A generation ago Karl Rahner did just that by postulating
that God will always remain a mystery to us and that human suffering -- the outcome of evil
permitted by God who might work His gracious end in other ways -- only reflects that mystery.
If we could somehow deduce the necessity of suffering, then we would think that we understood
God which would compromise His sovereignty. Rahner goes on to claim that in accepting
suffering, humans surrender themselves in love to God and thereby find God.5

V. “Woman, behold, your son.” … “Behold, your mother” (Jn 19:26).

John is unique among the evangelists in showing a regular disciple of Jesus at the cross.
As a matter of fact, Mark and Matthew depict all the disciples fleeing like bandits when Jesus is
arrested with only Peter making a half-hearted attempt to follow Jesus during his trials.
Who is the “beloved disciple” that stands with Jesus here? We do not know exactly
although we can say that it is not likely John, the son of Zebedee, and that he presumably bears
this Gospel tradition which John the Evangelist eventually records. We can also add that
according to the fourth gospel itself, this “beloved disciple” is the model devotee who follows
Jesus first to the interrogation at the house of Annas, where Peter denies him, and then to
Calvary.
This is only the second appearance of the mother of Jesus in John’s gospel. At Cana
Jesus indicates that he and his mother have nothing in common. Here, in contrast, he implies
that they share the same spiritual concern. Both son and mother are interested in discipleship. A
true follower, Mary stands with Jesus at his death. Knowing the needs of the human condition,
Jesus provides for her support along with that of his other exemplary disciple.
Although it is appealing to hear these words of Jesus as solicitude on behalf of his
widowed mother, such an interpretation would betray the thrust of the fourth gospel. The

4
David Hart, “Tsunami and Theodicy,” First Things (March 2005, No. 151), pp. 6-9.
5
Karl Rahner, “Why Does God Allow Us to Suffer?” in Theological Investigations, Vol. XIX, (New York:
Crossroad, 1983), 206-7.

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evangelist shows little interest in Jesus’ human origins but at almost every turn presents Jesus as
God’s son. By saying to Mary, “… behold, your son,” Jesus is adopting her into his spiritual
family of disciples. And by telling his beloved disciple to “behold your mother,” he is
recognizing that his disciple has become his true brother.
Raymond Brown believes that this interpretation of the interactions between Jesus and his
mother corresponds with the dynamic development found in the Synoptics. In Mark when Jesus’
mother and brothers come looking for him, Jesus rejects them calling his disciples his “brother,
sister, and mother” (cf., Mk 3:31-35). This rejection resembles Jesus’ distancing himself from
his mother’s concern at Cana. Writing significantly later than Mark but approximately the same
time as John, Luke has a very different view of the confrontation between Jesus and his family.
He cites Jesus as saying, “My mother and my brothers are those who hear the word of God and
do it” (Lk 8:21). From the beginning of the third gospel, Mary not only heeds God’s word but
acts on it (cf., Lk 1:39). This implied inclusion of Mary as a disciple corresponds with Jesus’
associating her with his beloved disciple at the cross in the fourth gospel.
We priests must consider ourselves primarily as Jesus’ disciples. True, all Christians can
and should claim to follow Jesus, but even in Jesus’ company some disciples enjoyed a closer
relationship with him than others. Reflecting on his words daily and being commonly held
accountable to his ways, we justly regard ourselves among his more intimate companions. This
means that we, especially, need to practice discipline which has its root in the word “disciple.”
But what forms should our discipline take?
I remember a religious priest administering a parish who actually boasted of how he
greeted parishioners before mass with a cup of coffee in his hands. When they asked about the
need to fast for an hour before Communion, the fool said that he followed God’s, not human,
law! Our discipline begins with prudently observing all the laws of God and of the Church.
In Seven Habits of Highly Effective People Steven Covey reminds us of the importance of
daily exercise. Perhaps our concern is to be faithful not effective, yet it seems naturally virtuous
that we exercise regularly, avoid over-stimulation from watching more than a little television and
many movies, refrain from eating and drinking in excess, and get the rest we need. After all, we
heard in theological primers how grace does not destroy nature but builds upon it.
There are three other disciplines that appear critical for priests to cultivate. Two of these
are traditional and universal; the other has arisen in contemporary American culture. First, we

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should develop the habit of preparing homilies. Not long ago a friendly Southwest Airlines pilot
conversed with me during a layover on his airliner. He said that the first question parishioners
have of a new priest is, “Does he preach well?” We can all preach better on Sunday, as Bishop
Ken Untener constantly reminded us, if we take a few hours to prepare beginning early in the
week. Second, we need to avail ourselves for confession regularly and generously. Having only
face-to-face confession may deter some sensitive penitents from approaching the sacrament, but
having confessions only by appointment will likely keep all away but a few of the faithful. If our
work is to facilitate human reconciliation with God, Penance should have a unique priority in our
schedules. Finally, we have to develop a certain acceptance of meetings. The contemporary
model of pastor is increasingly that of a facilitator of ministries. This means that we have to
meet with people both one-on-one and in groups to enable them to assist others. But we must
not let meetings undermine the other essentials of priestly life. I have a motto: as many meetings
as necessary, as few as possible.

VI. “I thirst” (Jn 19:28).

The evangelist writes that Jesus utters these words “having known that already all was
finished, in order that the Scripture may be completed.” We would like to know exactly what
Scripture John is referring to here. Since “I thirst” does not appear by itself elsewhere in the
Bible, the words might refer obliquely to the same Psalm 22 that Mark and Matthew quote. John
the Evangelist, could not directly state, “My God, my God, why…,” without vitiating the subtext
of the Father always being with Jesus so evident in the fourth gospel. Therefore, John may be
thinking of another verse of the same psalm as his reference, such as, “My throat is dried up like
baked clay, my tongue cleaves to my jaws” (Ps 22:16). Another possibility is that he has Psalm
69 in mind where the psalmist laments, “…and in my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink” (Ps
69:22). Jesus’ words evidently move the people to offer him a swallow of vinegar. In any case,
Jesus here expresses the same determination to drink the cup of suffering that he shows at the
beginning of John’s passion account when he asks, “’Shall I not drink the cup that the Father
gave me?’” (Jn 18:11). Significantly, only in John’s gospel does Jesus actually drink the wine
offered to him on the cross.
An old tradition sees Jesus’ concern here as a “thirst for souls,” i.e., a desire for converts.
Although this language may still have effect and the goal legitimacy, a more contemporary

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interpretation of this longing is the thirst for justice or, in other words, the desire to see the
coming of God’s Kingdom in its fullness.
Gaudium et Spes is quite specific on the relationship between social progress and the
Kingdom of God. The two should not be equated, it says, but the first contributes to the second
and in the end will be transformed into the fullness of God’s reign. Participating in community
organizing projects, like those which the Catholic Campaign for Human Development has long
sponsored, seems an excellent way for a parish to thirst for God’s Kingdom. Yet this need not be
considered the only means of doing so. Priests promote this longing also by assisting the laity in
its commission to transform the world. Social issues may be broached in homilies with the sure
guidance of Catholic social teaching – both the more general papal statements and the more
timely pronouncements by the USCCB. Non-partisan conferences on political concerns
highlighting themes treated in Church teachings might take place in the parish center. Pastors
should also oversee the formation of social outreach to the poor as perhaps the most palpable
means of demonstrating the Church’s anticipation of the coming Kingdom.

VII. “It is finished” (Jn 19:30).

These final words of Jesus before he dies in John’s gospel refer to his mission. At the
beginning of the gospel John the Baptist recognizes him as the “lamb of God who takes away the
sin of the world” (Jn 1:29). Now that work is completed. The words are also connected to
Jesus’ previous statement in the idea expressed and in the symbol implied. As we have seen,
when Jesus says, “I thirst,” the evangelist comments that he knew “that everything was now
finished.” Here Jesus reiterates that expression of finality. More importantly, “I thirst” produces
the offering of a wine-soaked sponge on a sprig of hyssop. This incongruous image (the hyssop
shrub cannot support such a weight) is meant to recall the Israelites’ sprinkling their doorposts
with lamb’s blood on hyssop as a way of exempting themselves from the angel of death on the
night of the Passover in Egypt. Thus, the offering of wine, now related to the Passover blood,
symbolizes the Holy Eucharist.
A final observation needs to be made. John’s gospel pictures Jesus as perennially in
control of the action. As Jesus says in the Good Shepherd discourse, “… I lay down my life in
order to take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down on my own” (Jn 10:17-18).
This sovereignty over the course of events is demonstrated again here. Jesus’ penultimate words

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move others to offer him the symbol-laden wine, and his final words indicate that he is returning
to his Father as he has completed his work.
The Eucharist anchors any worthy priestly spirituality. After all, we are ordained first
and foremost to re-present the sacrifice of the Son of God on the cross for the salvation of the
world. In saying, “It is finished,” Jesus indicates that his high-priestly mission has ended. The
words remind us of ours (or the deacon’s) at the end of the Eucharistic liturgy: “The mass is
ended; …” Furthermore, seen in relation to “I thirst” provoking the symbol of blood, these
words point toward the purpose of the Eucharistic sacrifice which is to give the Christian life a
heavenly destination. Participating in this sacrifice, Christians follow Jesus to God the Father.
In his encyclical Ecclesia de Eucharistia Pope John Paul II calls the Eucharist “the center
and root of the whole priestly life.” He acknowledges that priests pursue many kinds of pastoral
activities – so varied that we might lose our focus if the Eucharist did not concentrate our
attention on Christ’s love. Of course, we take the role of Christ in the Eucharist which should
fortify us psychologically as well as spiritually. As Christ, we must see ourselves as called to
serve others. And as Christ, we harbor the hope of being destined to eternal glory.

Conclusion
We have pointed out several elements of priestly spirituality gleaned from a study of the
final words of Jesus in the various gospel traditions. No doubt, other connections can be made.
Yet our task is not only to name these elements but to integrate them into our lives. This may
sound like a daunting challenge and may even give rise to guilt when we fall short of
expectations. But we should neither see it as impossible nor fret desperately if we fail for these
same words provide us assurance of fortification and forgiveness.
“My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?” reminds us that although we at times
appear to be alone in our struggle to be worthy priests, God is actually with us and will vindicate
our efforts. “Father, forgive them; they know not what they do” may serve as a source of hope
for ourselves as well as the worst sinners. Jesus is ready to intercede for his followers even
though we may fail him repeatedly. Finally, “It is finished,” tells us that this same Jesus is in
charge of every situation and has completed the work of salvation that he came to do.

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