Which Thief Am I?

As we are about halfway through Lent, some of us may be feeling the weight of our Lenten commitments for better or worse. It’s usually at this point in Lent when I begin to reflect and enter into praying the Stations of the Cross. And as this will be posted on the feast day of St. Dismas (known as the Good Thief), I thought it would be appropriate to focus today's blog post on him.
On the day of Christ’s crucifixion, there were two other criminals being crucified with Him. Something I think is often overlooked about this fact, is what these two other people experienced before the iconic scene of one mocking Christ and the other asking for forgiveness. Let's start at beginning of these three people meeting, and ponder what their interactions had to been like for each thief to have a different response to Christ at the end of their lives. 
*NOTE: the following is a personal reflection, therefore don't interpret this as Church teaching or Tradition.

The meeting begins in a prison cell. The structure of the prison cells during this period of history often allowed for multiple people to be in one cell together. As they wait for the moment the guards would walk in and begin to march them to Calvary, what did the three of them do? Was there talk about escaping their deaths? Discussing plans on how they would take out the guards, which paths to run to get out of the city, and what they should do if one were to get caught. As the two thieves plotted, I imagine Christ just sitting in silence. The silence catches the attention of one of the thieves, and he can't put ask: "Why are you here? How come you're not trying to escape with us?" Christ covered in blood, bruised beyond recognition, and feeling overwhelming pain of taking a breathe; manages to smirk and reply back: "I'm good with my position here." Shocked by his reply, one thief goes back to crafting a plan while the other takes a moment to try and understand this man before him.

The day breaks. Although an attempt to escape was made by the two thieves, it didn't change the reality that all three are given their crosses to carry to Calvary. Being the slower of the three, Christ walked ahead. Along the way, the two thieves witnessed Christ fall on the ground multiple times, women weeping over this man and one even wiping his face with her cloth. They ask themselves again, "what did this man do? Who is he?" It wasn't until the end of their march, when they were thrown down unto their crosses, that they read the title given to Christ: "THIS IS THE KING OF THE JEWS." (Luke 23:38) It all began to click for each of them. They both started to recall the stories they had heard of this man, the miracles he performed, and how he claim to be the Son of God.

In the heart of one thief, the aspirations to escape death are reignited. He sees another chance to end his current pain and avoid the inevitable suffering of death. His heart begins to race at the thought of being free once again that cries out to Christ asking for relief from his suffering. While this is happening, the other thief is feeling puzzled. He recalls the testimonies of miracles and teachings that were spoken of this man, and none spoke of evils that justify Christ's crucifixion. This other thief can't make sense of what is being done before his eyes, but rather than desiring to be freed from his suffering, it simply turns his gaze to the Lord.
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We all have a cross to bear and suffering to endure, but we do not do it alone. In times of intense suffering and pain, our natural response is similar to become “navel gazers”. We begin to think of ways to escape the pain and suffering, and at times by whatever means necessary. It can take the form bargaining with God, seeking earthly means of relieving the hurt; but more often than not, accusing the Lord of being separated from us in our pain. How often do we, like the bad thief, filled with aspirations to move on from the suffering that forget to look around to see who is here with us in the suffering? The cry of our hearts resemble more along the lines: “Aren’t you the God of the universe? Do you not love your child enough to relieve me from this pain? Save your relationship with me!” Perhaps we never say those words out loud, but the Lord knows our hearts more than we do. He knows the cries of a child who believes that their parent has left them all alone, yet Scripture reminds us:

“We do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.” (Hebrews 4:15-16)

Let us not become so fixated on seeking relief from our sufferings that we forget we are not alone in these trials. May we redirect our hearts and minds in trials of suffering as St. Dismas did. While St. Dismas acknowledged his cross, he didn’t seek for it to be taken away from him. Rather, he turned his gaze to Christ and asked for mercy and companionship in this time of trial. Christ assured him that he would not be forgotten or alone, and that mercy will be delivered to him. Therefore, no matter what your suffering is, you can take a cue from St. Dismas, and as you hang on your cross, know you do not hang alone. Christ is right there next to you.

My crucified Jesus, wash me with Your most precious blood; look upon me as the good thief who hung on the cross next to You at Calvary. A sinner paying for his crimes but recognizes Your divinity and begs for mercy and forgiveness and asks, “Jesus, remember me when You come into Your kingdom.” Dear Lord, look upon me like the good thief and I should be so lucky and full of peace. Amen. 
St. Dismas, pray for us.