Office Of Readings | Friday, Lent Week 1 | From The Mirror Of Love By Saint Aelred, Abbot
‘Christ, the model of brotherly love.’
Who Was Saint Aelred Of Rievaulx?
Saint Aelred of Rievaulx presents the highest expression of Christian love: the love of one’s enemies. His reflection is deeply rooted in the Gospel, particularly in Christ’s own example on the cross, where Jesus prays, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” For Aelred, this moment encapsulates the essence of divine love—self-giving, patient, and without retaliation. Aelred was a 12th-century Cistercian monk and abbot of Rievaulx Abbey, known for his writings on Christian friendship and love. His spirituality was deeply influenced by Saint Augustine, Saint Bernard of Clairvaux, and the monastic tradition, particularly in its focus on the imitation of Christ. This reading is a reflection of Aelred’s broader theological vision, where love is not merely an emotion but a profound act of spiritual transformation, a means of becoming Christ-like.
Aelred emphasizes Christ’s willingness to endure humiliation and suffering without anger or resistance. Jesus allows himself to be spat upon, blindfolded, scourged, and crowned with thorns—acts of extreme cruelty—yet Christ responds with silence and peace. He is mocked and crucified, yet he prays for his persecutors. Jesus offers not only forgiveness but also an excuse for the actions of those who tormented him: “they do not know what they are doing.” This extraordinary response defies human instinct, which seeks justice and retribution. Aelred sees in Christ’s attitude the perfect model for the Christian life—one that transforms suffering into love. Aelred’s words echo the call of Isaiah, where the Suffering Servant is “like a lamb led to the slaughter, silent before his shearers.” Aelred invites the reader not just to admire Christ’s patience, but to embody it in their own struggles.
Aelred’s theology of love is drawn from both Augustinian and Cistercian thought. Like Augustine, Aelred sees love as the ultimate path to God, and like Bernard of Clairvaux, he understands love as an active response to divine grace. Aelred extends this concept to love for one’s enemies, arguing that true love must be universal because if love excludes enemies, it remains incomplete. Forgiveness is not weakness but strength, overcoming hatred by transforming the heart. The fire of divine love must not grow cold, for resentment and injury should never diminish the Christian’s ability to love. This idea resonates with Saint Paul’s exhortation to bless persecutors and overcome evil with good. Aelred presents this not as an idealistic aspiration but as an essential mark of Christian holiness.
Aelred’s words challenge believers to examine their own attitudes toward forgiveness and reconciliation. Many individuals struggle with resentment, past wounds, and a sense of justice, yet Aelred reminds Christians that true spiritual freedom comes not from revenge but from the ability to love as Christ loved. His teaching is especially relevant in a world marked by division, hostility, and conflict. To live this teaching requires a conscious decision to forgive, even when forgiveness feels undeserved, a focus on Christ’s example, keeping one’s spiritual eyes on Jesus’ patience and gentleness, and a heart open to grace, allowing God to soften any areas hardened by pain.
For Aelred, Christian perfection is found in imitating Christ’s love on the cross. To love one’s enemies is to participate in the very life of God, for as the Apostle John declares, “God is love.” This reading encapsulates Aelred’s monastic and theological vision, in which love is not merely a virtue but the summation of Christian perfection. Love, when extended even to one’s enemies, makes a person like Christ. Love is the path to holiness, the fire that purifies the soul, and the mark of a true disciple. In this reflection, Aelred does not offer abstract philosophy but a deeply practical and demanding call to live as Christ lived.
From The Mirror Of Love By Saint Aelred, Abbot
The perfection of brotherly love lies in the love of one’s enemies. We can find no greater inspiration for this than grateful remembrance of the wonderful patience of Christ. He who is more fair than all the sons of men offered his fair face to be spat upon by sinful men; he allowed those eyes that rule the universe to be blindfolded by wicked men; he bared his back to the scourges; he submitted that head which strikes terror in principalities and powers to the sharpness of the thorns; he gave himself up to be mocked and reviled, and at the end endured the cross, the nails, the lance, the gall, the vinegar, remaining always gentle, meek and full of peace.
In short, he was led like a sheep to the slaughter, and like a lamb before the shearers he kept silent, and did not open his mouth.
Who could listen to that wonderful prayer, so full of warmth, of love, of unshakeable serenity – Father, forgive them – and hesitate to embrace his enemies with overflowing love? Father, he says, forgive them. Is any gentleness, any love, lacking in this prayer?
Yet he put into it something more. It was not enough to pray for them: he wanted also to make excuses for them. Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing. They are great sinners, yes, but they have little judgement; therefore, Father, forgive them. They are nailing me to the cross, but they do not know who it is that they are nailing to the cross: if they had known, they would never have crucified the Lord of glory; therefore, Father, forgive them. They think it is a lawbreaker, an impostor claiming to be God, a seducer of the people. I have hidden my face from them, and they do not recognise my glory; therefore, Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.
If someone wishes to love himself he must not allow himself to be corrupted by indulging his sinful nature. If he wishes to resist the promptings of his sinful nature he must enlarge the whole horizon of his love to contemplate the loving gentleness of the humanity of the Lord. Further, if he wishes to savour the joy of brotherly love with greater perfection and delight, he must extend even to his enemies the embrace of true love.
But if he wishes to prevent this fire of divine love from growing cold because of injuries received, let him keep the eyes of his soul always fixed on the serene patience of his beloved Lord and Saviour.
The two parables make it clear that Christ intended the newly inaugurated phase of the history of our salvation to be the work of ages. His second coming was not to be an apocalyptic end of the world as we know it in weeks, months or just a few years after that first Easter. The world’s faith would grow with time. Christ’s Church would grow, to encompass the whole world. Christ intended the Gospel be preached to everyone the world over and through all subsequent history [ … ]
The Carrefour will be open, where I can buy nuts for the red squirrel, who lives in Campo Grande. The red squirrel is Valladolid’s best bit. Even as a child, I had never seen one before, apart from in picture books. It was last term’s discovery. The most beautiful encounter. I didn’t know it was there – in the park. A complete surprise. The tiny little thing bobbled and hopped, as it received in its little hands a nut from the man’s hands. Each surprising instant – it was childlike. I whispered: ‘Oh my wow.’ I walk toward the El Cortes Ingles. There is, for now, that settled feel of friends in bookshops. Though a null-affect, neutral day – it won’t glean, it is not to be scratched at. The queues are long in the Carrefour. Though, as it might be, on relatively modest incomes, many people live centrally. Their behaviours neither pinched nor stark. Yet the shop so busy while the street so empty… An error in the simulation, a glitch in the code. I potter about the aisles, which are pleasant enough, then at the tills I flinch at how expensive a little bag of up-sold nuts can be. Nonetheless, I queue for a packet of almonds. Two English men queue directly ahead of me. They are stocky, and have gay voices, their wheelie-bucket piled with soft drinks and party food, while they bitch to one another about the obviously terrible party they’re going to. The air heaves relief as I wander up the way to the broad plaza fringing Campo Grande. This is a place to see – a piece of Spain. There is a tourist information office, though unopened. At these fountains, three girls take selfies. Pompous-looking buildings, the military offices aside, line the park’s nearest vicinities. Hotel-bars have their patches. Liveried doormen idle time, for there are no paying customers, in and out the doorways’ shadows. A mixed group of kids play at the hoops on the pedestrian boulevard, and two boys practise on skateboards, working the thing out. I pass by them, touched by the thought, and happy that they are there. Wistful, I smile at the odds of the ball spilling over to me, and play in mind the agreeable scene of a fleeting connection. Then I am through the park gates. An air now – of humanity become self-selecting. Modestly understated. Understatedly modest. Campo Grande is nice but it isn’t grande… I walk slowly, and very soon hear for a second time English voices. Not them – it is an English family, just a little way ahead, a Dad and a Mum and a younger boy and an older girl, and theirs are Midlands accents. Dad seems to have been here and to know the place. He gestures panoramically. Mum wants her lunch. The girl at a difficult age. She carries a balloon-on-a-stick. Though she is sprouting – yet wears a loud dress. Then leggings, trainers. Her hair is nice… Maybe she is being okay about it. And not horrific. It’s okay once they get into it, but those months… Yet then, they mostly blossom, if they come from a good home, and become rounded personalities, entering into their womanhood. It was that… when yet they weren’t… I shudder to think of it. They walk toward the pond, and I trail, and would follow had I not been going that way. I wish I could say something so they might hear I am English too. (Fake a phone call?) How my voice might sound – there’d be all college hurling around in such matter I… a demented thing, ludicrous blurt – of Henry, Geoff, and all of them – not to mention the personal predicament. Maybe they’re a nice family. She is letting him explain what he needs to explain. And it would blow his fire, me being English. Mum and Dad. You’d probably see them all having their lunch in a little while. All sat round the table. With napkins and the menus out. Dad looks safe. I look into the pond. Terrapins live in there. But not today. I walk toward the join in the paths where the squirrel lives. There, I crumple the packet of almonds, making noise. I peer and I squat and crouch – chewing a mouthful. All the peacocks have perched right up in the trees’ branches. That never looks like something they should be doing. It’s disappointing that the squirrel isn’t here – but then the not-knowing-if is a part of it. Now, next, my visit to the National Sculpture Museum is an obligation. Canon Peter stood literally aghast when I hadn’t heard of it. Mortified, I made resolute promises. Though a few weeks have passed, it isn’t just any old something I could do on the hoof. A great commitment – it must command a known and prepared and anticipated not-just-any-old-time. But, rather, the sort you must wait for – and listen for. [ … ] Beyond Plaza Mayor, there would be a brief series of old-town alleyways. The National Sculpture Museum would be – just up there, this archway, this next…They are bleached and forgotten-looking walls, and the smoothed paving could be medieval. Not that it is making Tomàs anxious – I follow the map. A kind of place – uneasy credit-cards, and modern vaccinations, and a phone, might not help much. I fancy I feel the back-wall of a church, and that – fancifully – pressure-release drawn out of me. Only I am playing games in a nice way – making play-scared on the uncertainty – with only myself to see. The National Museum is there, modestly signed on stencilled plexiglass stuck to the stone wall. A uniformed lady sits just a little way inside the doorway. She reassures me there is no money required, and directs me over the courtyard into the planned route, showing me where I can pick up a free map. I get my […]
Jesus continues to teach his disciples, presenting to them the true meaning of his Passion and crucifixion to come, and also consoling the disciples: Jesus tells his disciples that his imminent death on the cross is necessary; it is through the crucifixion that he returns to the Father, and will then send to the disciples the Holy Spirit, the Paraclete, the Counsellor, the Comforter, to be with them forever [ … ]
