INTRODUCTION
The cross. To many, a sign of violence, death, and defeat. To us, it is the most sacred, the most cherished of all images. For us it represents Christ’s suffering and victory: a sign of love, life, and triumph. Today, through the Stations of the Cross, in our hearts and through our imaginations we stand on the Via Dolorosa in Jerusalem and retrace the footsteps of Jesus from the Fortress Antonia, where he was condemned to death, to Golgatha, where he was crucified.
What would we see if we were there when Jesus was crucified? Far from the ornate crosses that decorate our churches and homes, we would see a stark cross of rugged wood. Our eyes would see a crucified man dying slowly, his body wrenched by pain. A sight not easy to look at. What would we hear if we were there when Jesus was crucified? The harsh thud of nails driven through wood and flesh, the moaning of the dying, the insults shouted to the cross, the mockery of his enemies to his claim of divinity, the few gasping words of Jesus himself. Sounds not pleasant to the human ear.
It is through the Stations of the Cross that we are invited to experience the sights and sounds of that day by spiritually accompanying our Lord on his sorrowful journey to Calvary, meditating at each scene of his Passion and death.
We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you
Because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.
Rejected by his own people, tormented by his accusers, tortured by his persecutors mocked by the Roman officials. Jesus, the King of Kings, is forced to wear the distorted trappings of kingship: a crown, not of gold but of thorns; a robe, not of royal splendor, but a cloak soaked with blood that irritates his scourged body. The King of both heaven and earth receives the judgment of a mere puppet of the Roman government. Pilate is convinced of Jesus’ innocence, but bows to the pressure of the crowd and condemns Jesus to death. The implementation of the sentence, begins. Christ draws near to the cross, his body already atrociously bruised and lacerated, blood trickling down his face from his head crowned with thorns. Ecce homo. Behold the man.
Let us pray . . .
Lord, how often I am so very much like Pilate. How often I sit in the seat of judgment and condemn others without cause. How often I too yield to the pressure of the crowd and give up my own will just because it’s safer to agree with everyone else. Yet in your tortured appearance, Jesus, I receive my strength. Despite all obstacles, you remained true to yourself, true to your convictions. Forgive me, Lord, when I bow to the pressures of others rather than following your way. Forgive me when I become more concerned with what people think of me than what I know is right. Forgive me the times when my words, my deeds, or my silence condemned others. Amen
We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you
Because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.
Wood. A material very familiar to Jesus. As a boy, he watched Joseph cut, shape, and mold this raw material into products of beauty. And as Jesus grew into manhood, he too accepted the trade of a carpenter and came to depend on the wood as a way of life. But now, the wood has become his way of death. That wood, which had been such an instrument of joy and livelihood, becomes the very instrument of his suffering and death. Yet Jesus accepts the cross as he accepts the will of his Father: freely . . . no questions asked. And yet, it is not his cross that he bears; it is ours.
Let us pray . . .
Lord, I accept your cross, but with much hesitation. Why do I choose to leave my comfortable world and allow hardship and pain into my life? I bear it that others may know you more fully through me. Be at my side as I begin my journey. Give me strength. Give me courage. Amen
We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you
Because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.
"I am a worm, not a man, scorned by all, the laughing-stock of the mob": the words of the psalmist-prophet come wholly true in these steep, narrow little streets of Jerusalem in the last hours before the Passover. The cross weighs heavily upon his shoulders, and he falls. And he wills all this; he wills fulfillment of the prophecy. He falls in accordance with his own will, so that "the scriptures may be fulfilled": "I am a worm, not a man.” When it would have been so easy for him to give up, he staggers to his feet once more. He continues on toward his tragic destination.
Let us pray . . .
All: Lord, in my life, there are so many times that I stumble and fall. So often I just want to lie there and give up, make people feel sorry for me. But I know that there is no cross too heavy for me because you are always there to share the weight of my burden, to pick me up and set me back on the right path again. Yet, sometimes you are the last one that I remember to call on when I need help. Lord, help me to remember that I am totally dependent on you.
We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you
Because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.
Innocence meets innocence in the face of injustice. Mary looks upon her son, burdened by the cross, crowned in thorns, mangled and bleeding. Tears run down her face, her arms outstretched to embrace her beloved son. Jesus looks up and sees his mother before him. Their eyes meet – hers full of tears, his full of pain and confusion. Marys’ lips move, “I love you” they say. Knowing he is doing his Father’s will and secure in his mother’s love, Jesus finds the courage and strength to meet his own death.
Let us pray . . .
Lord, forgive me the many times our eyes have met and I turned mine away. Forgive me the times things did not go my way and I let everyone know about it. Forgive me the times I brooded over little inconveniences or became discouraged and did not heed your call to courage. Yes, our eyes have met many times, but fruitlessly. Amen
We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you
Because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.
Just passing by. Just minding his own business. Perhaps visiting Jerusalem for the Passover feast. Perhaps intrigued by the commotion of what was going on. A perfect stranger, in wrong place at the wrong time. Simon of Cyrene is summoned, perhaps compelled, by the soldiers to relieve Jesus’ burden and carry the cross, if only for a short time. When the condemned man's shoulders became too weak, he lends him his shoulders. What was Simon’s reaction? Did he accept the cross freely, as Jesus did or did he try to get out of carrying it even the short distance that he did?
Let us pray . . .
Lord, often I do not wish to help others when they (or you) call upon me. Often I say, “Hey it’s not my problem!” Or I agree to help out, but only begrudgingly. Other times, I have offered my hand to help other people, but when it became too much, too inconvenient, too demanding of my time, I left them, making excuses for myself. Help me to relieve the pain and misery of those around me with the strength and love that I receive from you. Amen
We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you
Because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.
Jesus’ face is bathed in sweat, spit and blood. Moved with pity and compassion, a woman from the crowd, Veronica by name, unconcerned with what others may be thinking, pushes forward from the crowd and wipes Jesus’ face. As a gift for her courage and unselfish caring, Jesus leaves his image imprinted on her veil.
Let us pray . . .
Lord Jesus, perhaps the reason you chose to leave your image upon Veronica’s veil was because in her faith, in her compassion, and in her love, Veronica was the image of you. So many opportunities arise everyday for me to give to you by giving to others. But so very often, I pass them by. Help me to give all I have to you by giving all I have to others. Let me be your image for others. Amen
We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you
Because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.
No sleep, nothing to eat or drink since supper the eve before, the interrogations, the scourging, the mockery - they have all taken their toll. Jesus falls again to the dust and grime of the crowded street of Jerusalem amidst the noise of weeping and heckling with even greater force than the first time. Yet, despite the pain that he is in, despite the humiliation he must be feeling, despite the weight of the cross, despite the jeering crowd, despite the whips from the soldiers, Jesus struggles to his feet once more to continue on his way to Calvary.
Let us pray . . .
Lord, I've slipped, I've stumbled, I've fallen many times in life. But the weight of my cross is nothing compared to your cross, O Jesus. Sometimes I fall because of weakness; other times I fall because I lack the incentive or the courage to keep trying. Sometimes it is just so much easier to lie there and give up trying to do your will, trying to become the person you call me to be. Give me the strength and perseverance I need as I struggle on my way back to you.
We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you
Because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.
Pain . . . exhaustion . . . the realization of what lies ahead, and still Jesus finds compassion in his heart to console the women who stand on the side of the road weeping. He speaks words of comfort to them, even though it is difficult for him even to speak. When few in the crowd have compassion in their heart for Jesus, he, in his sufferings, still finds compassion in his heart for others.
Let us pray . . .
Lord, Sometimes my heart is touched by the suffering of others, but not moved. Not moved to speak out against injustice. Not moved to act to end their hurt, their pain, their grief, their loneliness, their hunger, their poverty. But tears are not enough. Tears cannot stop evil from happening. Tears cannot stop agony. Tears cannot heal. Tears cannot bring peace. Move my tears beyond weeping and into action. Let my words, my deeds, or perhaps just my presence, comfort those whose lives are filled with hurt. Amen.
We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you
Because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.
Face first, Jesus crashes onto the pavement once more. Every fiber of his body cries out to give up. But every element of his will insists that he continue on. Jesus falls under the weight of the cross. Once he said: "Do you think that I cannot pray to my Father, who would at once send me more than twelve legions of angels?" But he does not ask for that. Having accepted the cup from his Father's hands, he is resolved to drink it to the end. He wills it no other way.
Let us pray . . .
Lord, it’s tough being a Christian. You call me to pick up my cross daily and follow you. But your way is difficult and is often the unpopular way. It requires me to be different from everyone else, and I crave the acceptance of others. Yet, I also long for your acceptance of me. Sure my every step. Give me strength. Help me to realize that you are all I need. Amen.
We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you
Because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.
Publicly stripped of his dignity, of his self-esteem, and now of his clothes. The utter humiliation he must have felt. He has lost so much in just one day’s time: his friends, his popularity, his reputation, and now his clothes – the last material possession he has. He has but one thing left to give, and that is his very life. With every wound, every spasm of pain, every wrenched muscle, every trickle of blood, with all the exhaustion in its arms, all the bruises and lacerations on its back and shoulders, this unclothed body is carrying out the will of both the Father and the Son.
Let us pray . . .
Lord, in my own way, I too have stripped you. I have taken away the good name of another by foolish talk, and have stripped people of human dignity by my prejudice. Jesus, there are so many ways I have offended you through the hurt I caused others. Help me to see you in all people. Amen.
We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you
Because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.
Roughly, contemptuously, the soldiers thrust Jesus down onto his cross. Holding him down, they pound the nails through his hands and feet. The ringing of hammer upon nail must have been deafening. The echo of the shrieks of his excruciating pain must have been ear-piercing. Yet the persecutors are dauntless, the onlookers unmoved by pity. All around Jesus are the mockers and those who take delight in human misery. Does no one remember his loving message? Does no one remember the healings? Does anyone remember anything good at all about him? “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”
Let us pray . . .
Lord, I too sometimes seem to get pleasure out of making others suffer. The gossip I spread, the lies I tell, the games I play in relationships, the guilt trips I lay on others, the revenge I seek for the hurt others have caused me, are all my subtle, yet torturous ways that I inflict pain on others. Jesus, what your persecutors and tormentors did to you appalls me; how then can I treat others in this way? Give me insight into the ways I hurt others and help me to exchange these hurtful ways with ways of healing. Amen.
We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you
Because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.
On his journey as the One sent by the Father, he preached the breadth of his love, which overlooks no one; the length of his love, which is faithful in every generation; the height of his love, a hope that triumphs over death itself; and the depth of his love, which sent him to call not the righteous, but sinners. Once he told others, “No greater love does any man have than to lay down his life for those he loves.” And here it is – the total gift of self – the perfect gift of love. Total. Complete. Free. Uncompromising. Selfless. For you. For me. Sinners. Unrighteous. The nightmare of pain and suffering, the agony of betrayal and loneliness come to an end. After three mercifully brief hours on the cross, suspended between earth and sky, Jesus dies. Choking on the hyssop dipped in wine he gasps out the words, "It is finished." He bows his head and gives up his spirit.
Let us pray . . .
My Jesus, have mercy on me for what my sins have done to you and to others. I thank you for your great act of love. Teach me to live my life for others, and not fail you again. Amen
We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you
Because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.
Jesus’ lifeless body is taken down from the cross. Once again Jesus is in the arms that once held him in the stable in Bethlehem. Mary holds Jesus’ body close to hers. She kisses his head. Her tears mingle with his blood. The crowd has gone. The noise has stopped. The show is over. The passion has ended. Or has it? There is still injustice, still pain, still the sufferings of mankind.
Let us pray . . .
Lord, you have said, “Whatever you do to one of my least ones, you do to me.” There was nothing that I could do to stop your crucifixion two thousand years ago. I was not there. But I am here now! Help me to make a difference in this world by helping to end your pain and suffering in the person of my fellow brothers and sisters. Amen.
We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you
Because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.
He was born in a borrowed place, a stable. And now, his lifeless body is placed in another borrowed place, the tomb of Joseph of Arimathea. End of story? Not quite. What appears to end in utter failure becomes the ultimate triumph. Three days after his death, he destroys death by rising to new life. Jesus lives! Death has no hold on him! What an utter contradiction of the way it’s “supposed” to be!
Let us pray . . .
Lord Jesus, help me to show the world that you do live – in me! Let me be your eyes that look compassion on the world; your heart that pulsates with love for all; your arms stretched out in service to the needs of others; and your feet which guide others on their way back to you. Amen.
CLOSING PRAYER
Lord Jesus, for how many ages have you remained imprisoned upon your cross, and still we pass you by, ignoring you? How often have we overlooked your tender presence in our lives, paying little attention to your great sorrow, your pain, your power to love.? How often have we, by indifference, added to your sorrow, deepened your pain, and refused your love?
You constantly stretch forth your hands to re-create us, to touch us with your love, and still we close our eyes to your presence and force you to remain imprisoned upon your cross.
Yet our names are written in your heart forever, and you will not allow us to ignore you or run from you. You have loved us with an everlasting love, and we continue to place obstacles in your path.
Your cross shows us, however, the power of your love, that is stronger than our fear, that it can overcome our need to run from you. Lord, let the love that flows from your cross surround us, break down the walls of our fear, and fill our hearts.
Lord Jesus Christ crucified, teach us how to love one another, as you have loved us, even to the cross. Amen.
