Praying the Stations of the Cross with St. Joseph
The Fourteenth Station - Jesus is Laid in the Tomb
The crowd is gone. The streets are empty. The shouts of, “Crucify him!” have faded. The laughing, the jeering, the finger pointing, have ended. The soldiers are back in their quarters, well satisfied that they have kept the Peace of Rome. Lash and spear, hammer and nails, are in their usual places, awaiting their next victim. A good day’s work of inhumane cruelty is now celebrated with laughter, a pat on the back and some cheap wine. The Jews rest in their homes for the Sabbath, celebrating the day Yahweh rested from the work of creation, as your body lies in the tomb resting from the work of salvation. Sleep in heavenly peace, my Lord. Sleep in heavenly peace.
Right now, Pilate is in his palace, enjoying a meal, already having forgotten the events of the day. Caiaphas celebrates the Sabbath, well satisfied that he has protected the faith of Israel from being corrupted by yet another false prophet. Veronica stares at the cloth which bares your image, unable to take her eyes off the bloodied yet somehow beautiful image. Simon of Cyrene consoles Alexander and Rufus, whose nightmares recall the horror of all they saw today. And Simon, himself, cannot stop thinking about the pitiful man whose cross he carried, Strangely, he somehow realizes his life, in a way he does not understand, has been irreversibly changed by the encounter. Sleep in heavenly peace, my Lord. Sleep in heavenly peace.
Your Apostles hide themselves in the upper room where, in what seems like an eternity ago, they celebrated the Passover with you. The room hides them from the Temple Guard who search for them, but it cannot hide their feelings of grief and guilt. Peter sits alone in a corner weeping uncontrollably over his cowardice in abandoning you, and worse, his denial that he even knew you. Elsewhere in the city your beloved disciple holds the hand of your mother, unable to find words to console inconsolable grief. Sleep in heavenly peace, my Lord. Sleep in heavenly peace.
Your pain is gone. Your passion has ended. Your body lies in the coolness of a borrowed stone sepulcher, wrapped front and back in the linen shroud purchased by Joseph of Arimathea. The aroma of burial spices perfumes the heaviness and staleness of the air. A stone boulder blocks the sun’s light from intruding on death’s darkness. Sleep in heavenly peace, my Lord. Sleep in heavenly peace.
Yes, my Lord, sleep in heavenly peace - for in three days, the sun will rise to a new day . . . and so will you.
Let us pray . . . St. Joseph, we all have within us some areas, some parts of our heart, that are not alive, that are a little dead. We find ourselves in tombs, places that are dark and cold, places that have a boulder that has closed us off from love, and hope, and joy. We want to get out, to rise from whatever is dead in our lives, but we don’t know how. Only Jesus has the power to shatter the darkness in our lives and restore us to light and life. St. Joseph, intercede for us, that Jesus, your Son and our Lord, will give us the grace to rise from what is dead in our lives, to hear His voice call our name to come out of our tombs, and to come to Him, the Resurrection and the Life.
St. Joseph, Renowned Offspring of David, Light of Patriarchs, pray for us.
