The Bruised Reed

Rosemary Bogdan reflects on how we are all bruised reeds and in need of God’s gentle love and mercy. 

A bruised reed he shall not break, and a smoldering wick he shall not quench. (Isaiah 42:3)

What mom has not, at least occasionally, identified with the image of a bruised reed or a smoldering wick. Mothering is hard work. We get exhausted. We say the wrong thing. We get hurt. 

As she watched my little son walk with his feet on top of mine, holding my hands, an older mom said to me, “When they’re little they step on your toes. When they’re older they step on your heart.”  I remember finding the comment chilling and thinking she must be badly hurt by her children. God bless her.  

But whether we find true such a disparaging comment about older children, we all do sometimes get hurt. There is the occasional disrespect or insensitive remark by a teen, or the rebellion of an adult child who chooses to take what we know is a wrong path. Mothers get bruised. This is not heaven, and the path is often not easy.      

The Lord understands. He knows the difficulty of the task to which he has untrusted us. He knows how exhausted we get and how often we fail. He knows. And He is full of mercy and gentleness. He has grasped us by the hand, as Isaiah goes on to say:

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted, saves those whose spirit is crushed. (Psalm 34:19) 

As we enter Holy Week, we remember again the depth of God’s mercy and kindness, the unfathomable depth of His love. Just yesterday, on Palm Sunday, the crowds revered Him, dropping palm branches on the path before Hhim and calling, “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the kingdom of our father David that is to come! Hosanna in the highest!” (see John 12:13)

Just a few days later, the Passion of Our Lord will begin. He will embrace the sorrow of betrayal, the agony of knowing what is coming, the blows of cruelty, the sting of mockery as a hideous crown of thorns is pressed into His flesh. Those he loves will abandon Him and deny that they even know Him. Sunday’s reverence will have disappeared. The shouts of “Hosanna!” are silent. Now he will only hear, “Crucify him. Crucify him.” (John 19:6)

Knowing full well that all of this would happen, Jesus accepts the will of His Father. He voluntarily endures the unimaginable suffering. Such is the depth of His love and His mercy. 

Nailed to a cross, He will be taunted:

"He saved others; he cannot save himself. Let the Messiah, the King of Israel, come down now from the cross that we may see and believe." (Mark 15:31-32)

The Savior of the World endures the ignorant and cruel sarcasm. It is as though every conceivable suffering, physical and emotional, is laid upon Him. 

Yet even in that state He extends his love and infinite mercy to the Good Thief. It is a moment of respite from the blood and horror of the Crucifixion. We are reminded again of Who this Savior is. He is God Himself, full of infinite mercy, compassion, and forgiveness.  

The thief had only said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom” (Luke 23: 42). He did not directly express repentance. He had completed no penance. He only asked to be remembered.

Jesus replied, “Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise” (Luke 23:43). The thief asked to be remembered, and he was saved. I heard a wise priest say once that this example shows us that Jesus is looking for any reason to save us. He loves us so. 

The bruised reed He does not break. The smoldering wick He does not quench. He knows we are sinners. He knows how weak we are. And He looks at the interior of our hearts. He looks for the hearts that acknowledge His Kingship and ask to be remembered. 

In these last few days of Lent, how can we keep our eyes on the cross, remembering the depth of God’s love and His gentle mercy? 

Share your thoughts with the Catholic Mom community! You'll find the comment box below the author's bio and list of recommended articles.

Copyright 2024 Rosemary Bogdan
Images: Canva