We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you. Because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world.
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“Though your message was unspoken, still the truth in silence lies …..” this is one of my favourite lines from Dana’s hymn “Our Lady of Knock”. It brings us back to that gable wall on an August evening in 1879 and to a people gathered in wonder and fear. A vision before them and much pain and confusion behind and all around them in the wake of famine days and forced, uncertain, emigration. No words exchanged. No words spoken by Mary to these people you’d imagine were in need of a word. She didn’t tell them that they were disappointing her son. She didn’t call them to one kind of devotion or another. She didn’t demand response in promises of any kind. Knock and its story, remind us though that she was “THERE” – for the people present that evening she was “HERE”.
I often think of that when looking at this fourth station. There’s no mention of any dialogue. You can almost imagine their eyes meeting across a largely hostile and curious crowd. Once those eyes met and locked in on each other, there was reassurance. “You are still my son” ….. “it matters not what they think of you or what they think you’ve done or anything else …. you are still my son”. Presence and reassurance – maybe that’s as good as it gets.
What did she receive in return from his gaze? A loving acknowledgement that out of all that’s going on around here, out of all this thunderous crowd, “I see you. I need you. I love you”. The fourth commandment comes to mind “Honour your father and your mother”. No accident that it comes right after the call to keep Holy the Sabbath Day. This relationship between parent and child must also remain holy and be forever reverenced.
This Station then speaks to all that is good in that bond between parent and child, in this case, mother and son and calls us to be there/here for each other in moments of crisis and uncertainty. It also calls us to prayer for families that have been broken or compromised in any way due to a breakdown in communication and relationship.
Oh, that today we would listen to his voice, let us harden not our hearts.
We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you. Because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world.
Was it a pebble or a rock? Was it a push or a slap? Was it verbal abuse or fatigue? Was it ….. We’ll never know what led to the first fall but we can be certain it wasn’t easy. Even burdened beneath the weight of the cross, there is a pride that keeps us going – a sort of determination not to lose face. We’ve all done it, a stumble and then a quick look to see if anyone noticed and, depending on whether it was noticed or not, embarrassment or relief. We might be able to pull off the stumble, maybe even to put it down to error but there’s no denying the fall.
There’s something very sad about seeing someone who has fallen on the ground – fallen on hard times, fallen behind. There’s a genuine wish, especially if they’re known to us and loved by us, that the fall hadn’t taken place. It’s uncomfortable to watch someone on the ground. It’s a degrading place to be and, quite often in movies and plays, the man on the ground is to be pitied since he’s at the receiving end of brutality.
Such is the case in this third station. Jesus’ fall has come. He doesn’t call it his “first fall” since the hope is that it might be the only one. As we will see later on, this hope was not realised. Jesus came to pick up the fallen so maybe it’s not without significance that he is presented here as a man, mouth under, face down on the ground. It’s a moment of choice. Stay there or get up. We know the choice he made. It would not have been unreasonable were he to say, “No, I can’t go any further. What you’ve to do, do here ….” but no, he found his feet again and continued the journey.
This seems to be a station for the fallen one – for all of us who have been caught off guard and who have lost our footing. Don’t lose hope, feel the ground beneath you not so much as threat or enemy as launching pad to make a fresh start.
Let’s get up ….. the ground isn’t the best place for us.
Oh, that today we would listen to his voice, let us harden not our hearts.
We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you. Because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world.
It’s a station about awareness. I heard a woman speak once about her young son who lives with Autism. She said she went to a local supermarket to do her shopping and as she was leaving the shop her son held onto the door of the shop and would not let go. He began to scream and lash out. She tried to get him to leave but to no avail. He screamed and drew massive attention to them both. As she tried to hold on to his hand the bags of groceries she was carrying fell from her hands and their contents poured out across the pavement. All the while the child held the door, refused to budge and shouted. She tried to gather the bits and pieces and put them into the bag, whose handles had broken. As all this went on, people walked past her on the street – all but one – a man who walked up to her as she was bent over gathering her shopping with one hand and trying to keep hold of her child with the other. He looked down at her and said “You’d want to put some manners on that child”. He walked on and she said she collapsed on the street and cried.
The Cross comes in many shapes and forms and is always uninvited and unwelcome. People try to meet it in different ways. This woman, burdened beneath the weight of a cross not of her own making, needed support rather than criticism, a lift up rather than a put down and compassion rather than condemnation.
As we see the cross placed on Jesus’ shoulders, maybe we could let our gaze and empathy wander to the shop door and to a young mother dealing with a very difficult situation.
Oh, that today we would listen to his voice, let us harden not our hearts.
We adore you, O Christ, and we praise you. Because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world.
Everything in Pilate wanted to let Jesus go free. “I find no case against him” – “If he were not a criminal we’d not be handing him over to you”. “I will let him go but have him punished first” “If you let him go, you are no friend of Caesar’s” “Here is your king” “We have no King …..” “Shall I release for you the King of the Jews?” “Not this man Barrabbas” “I wash my hands of this man’s blood” “Let his blood be on us and our children” There was no winning over of this crowd and it was somewhere in the crowd that Pilate lost his nerve. The deed was done – an innocent man condemned. Pilate asked for a bowl and a towel and washed his hands of the decision but he had to live with its reality. The mob ruled the day.
The “mob” is dangerous. Many good people get condemned in its glare and many “pilates” allow the wrong decision to be made. There are people we don’t talk to and who don’t talk to us. Why? Is it that they’ve done anything to us or vice versa? Many times it’s neither. We get caught up in someone else’s row and their hostility becomes ours.
There are many ways of condemning someone to death and few of them involve coffins or graveyards. The death of isolation is a slow death and many are condemned to it by an unjust and uncertain judge – that judge can all too easily be me! I find myself passing sentence on someone because of who he is or isn’t. what he does or doesn’t do, where he lives, the colour of skin, religious views and no more than Pilate, deep down I know this should not be happening. People that we’ve convinced ourselves are right (who most likely are wrong) sway our views and weaken our nerve. We pass sentence.
There’s something in this Station, calling us to get a backbone of our own and to make decisions about people and situations that are based on fact and personal reflection rather than the roar of careless and bloodthirsty crowd.
“I find no case against him”. He or she has done nothing to me to make me ignore or mistreat in any way. Then why does it happen.
At this First Station Lord, deliver us from the mob ……
Oh that today we would listen to his voice. Let us harden not our hearts.
Today is my birthday! I’m a year now for every week of the year 🙂 Thinking of Mary and Bill (R.I.P.) and thankful they gave me the gift of life. Thankful too, for family and friends – to those who got in touch today – and to all who give me the reason “to be”.
I spoke a while ago with some friends in Washington and they asked “did you do anything special for your birthday?” My initial answer was “no” but that’s not altogether the case. I spoke and spent time with people that matter to me, celebrated Mass in the parish (three times this weekend) and witnessed faith and goodness in action.
It’s difficult at times to realise life is moving at such a pace. Though decades have passed, I feel pretty much the same as I ever felt and am, in the main, content with life. There are certainly times I wish I could say I was doing better work. I read a few pieces from Pope Francis this week and he spoke about not “leaving Jesus in the Church” but bringing him with us into day to day life and situations. I sometimes wonder how I’m doing with that. He also talked about reaching out to those who have “lapsed” from the Faith and, again, I question my success in that regard.
So then, if you’re reading this today (or in the days to come), say a little prayer for me that in the coming year I might prove more effective in this regard.
Thanks to all of you for your kindness and your prayers. I can only hope you know how much I appreciate, acknowledge and, above all, need them.
So, let’s share Mr Bean’s Birthday moment …. I’ll read my cards and texts again 🙂
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