Stations of the Cross in our midst

In 2004, I had the blessing to spend twelve days in the Holy Land, as a guest of a friend who was volunteering in Bethlehem.

One day I decided to go to Jerusalem, alone, and visit the Holy sites, walking the Way of the Cross. I visited the Dome of the Rock and then began the Stations of the Cross. I stopped at a few places and entered open chapels but what most affected me was seeing people walking in the streets where Jesus walked – not as pilgrims but as people going about their daily lives. I am including below what I wrote a few months after my pilgrimage. 

I took one photo that has moved me many times. A man and his son, with a small backpack, are walking where Jesus walked.

Jesus walked to his death, carrying the cross, in the midst of the daily lives of many people of his times. Some noticed him, as the women who wept. But many didn’t. But Jesus was there, suffering in their midst – and sharing their suffering. 

And so, too, he walks among us, carrying his cross – but also carrying the cross of the multitudes who suffer every day – especially here in Honduras, but also in every corner of the globe. 

May they always remember the presence of a God who suffers with them. 

A few weeks ago I gave a friend a ride to San Pedro Sula. Sister Pat was going to give a series of talks on the Cross to a congregation of sisters devoted to the Cross. As we talked, one idea touched me – the cross is the sign of the transformative power of “suffering with”. 

Jesus suffered with us, suffered for us, and shows us the power of suffering with others, sharing their sorrows and trials. 

As I reflect on this rainy Good Friday I realize that a central part of my ministry is being with people in the midst of their pain and suffering.

Last Monday, I went to Debajiados to preside at a Celebration of the Word for the end of the novena, the nine days after the death of a fifteen year old who had several physical problems but was a special young woman, very affectionate and exuberant. When we celebrated her funeral, I found myself close to tears while reading the Gospel.

This past Tuesday, I went to San Antonio El Alto and visited the sick – all eleven of them in this small village. Wednesday, I visited two sick persons in the nearby village of Granadillal. I also talked with someone about the need to get psychiatric help for at least two persons. 

 Visiting the sick is not always easy but is, for me, one of the most important my ministry as a deacon. Another important ministry is presiding at funerals. 

I find that I am transformed when I am at the side of those who are suffering and grieving. That’s what Good Friday is for me. 

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A DAY OF RETREAT IN JERUSALEM - November 2004 

from my Palestine vignettes, slightly edited

My friend had arranged a very full schedule for me for my twelve days in the holy land. I was so busy that I hardly experienced any jetlag. 

But by the end of the first week, I decided that I needed a day of quiet, walking alone through the Old City of Jerusalem. 

I had hoped to get into Jerusalem early enough in the morning to visit the Harim al Sharif, the Noble Sanctuary, the site of the Dome of the Rock. However, I left Bethlehem late and managed to get lost in the Old City. So, when I arrived at the entrance, it was about to be closed to non-Muslims. 

I proceeded to walk down the Kidron Valley and up the Mount of Olives to the Church of the Pater Noster on the summit. This is supposedly the site where Jesus often went with his disciples, where he taught them the Lord’s Prayer, and shared with them the discourses in Matthew 24 –25. The church has the Lord’s Prayer in more than 100 languages on plaques on the walls of the grounds. I stopped and prayed in several languages. I made an effort to read the prayer in Nahuatl, the language of many Central Americans, as I remembered their suffering. I finally stopped in the little chapel on the site and sang the Lord’s Prayer in Latin. 

“Your will be done” echoed in my heart. 

THE VIA DOLOROSA 

I proceeded down the Mount of Olives to visit and pray again in the Church of the Agony and in the Tomb of the Virgin. 

After a short prayer in both places, I hurried to the Western Wall since the access to the Dome of the Rock would be open for an hour. I walked around and marveled at the beauty of the mosque with its exterior mosaic walls. The mosque is only open to Muslims.

I left the area by the exit near the Lions Gate and proceeded to walk the stations of the cross. 

As I walked I saw some children in the Muslim Quarter playing; other children were just getting out of school, carrying their book bags on their back. At one point I came across twenty or so Israeli soldiers, young men and women, filing out of a house and filling the street. They looked like new recruits.

As I stopped and prayed at the stations, vendors invited me into their stores and men offered to guide me to the holy sites. I turned down their offers – wanting the silence.

On the route of the first stations the streets are not very narrow and are open to the sky. But as I approached the seventh station the streets narrowed. Shops with everything from backlava to clothing to souvenirs crowded the street.

Praying at the little chapel of the fifth station, Simon helps Jesus carry the cross, I thought of my call to help carry the cross of the suffering people of the world.

But it was in the street, by the eighth station that I felt the weight of the cross – the pain and suffering of so many people. At the eighth station Jesus met the women of Jerusalem who are weeping. Jesus told them to weep, not for him but for themselves and for their children. I was again near tears, having witnessed not only the sufferings of Jesus but of the people of this blessed land. 

As I approached the church of the Holy Sepulcher I realized that Christ went to his death not on a special day – but in the midst of a city that was bustling with people. And it is here that the crucified Jesus suffers still.

The Holy Sepulcher

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I was inspired to write this by a post of Deacon Greg Kandra in The Deacon's Bench. Click here to read his reflection.

Good Friday in the countryside

I spent Good Friday in a community that has had a lot of suffering. There have been a good number of killings there in the last few years, including one a few months ago. About a month ago the police came into the village in the middle of the night and arrested two people, but let a woman accused of being a gang member free after finding no tattoos on her body. In addition, one person accused had fled. The accusations are probably false.

We started about 10 am with the Vía Crucis, the Stations of the Cross , in the middle of some coffee fields. The people carried bougainvillea, which people here call napoleono, and left a few branches at each place where we prayed.

The text of our third station, Jesus falls the first time, recalls the devastation of the earth. As we prayed I looked at the nearby hills with new coffee plants and very few trees. I wondered if they had burnt the land before planting the new coffee.

As we walked along, I noted that the kids (and some adults) found berries on bushes at the side of the road. A Good Friday treat - though they did have thorns on them, as I tried to retrieve a few for the kids.

After the stations, they gave me a simple lunch – tortilla, beans, rice – which filled me. I then sat down to prepare the afternoon Celebration of the Passion. I dozed off in the process – since I had gotten to bed late on Thursday night and awakened early.

At the Celebration, despite the length of the reading of the Passion, I gave a short reflection, noting the deaths, the pain, that the community has been experiencing.

As I said in a homily at a funeral a few months ago, I urged them to lay everything at the foot of the Cross – the pain, the tears, resentment, the desire for revenge – so that they may be transformed by Jesus, crucified and risen. I also urged them to follow the example of Jesus and forgive – not failing to call for justice, but for a justice based in love, a justice that seeks the transformation of the person.

This year my reflections are very much influenced by Father Ronald Rolheiser’s The Passion and the Cross where he writes:

Jesus, as the Lamb of God, does not take away the sin of the world by somehow carrying it off so that it is no longer present inside of the community. Nor does he take it away by paying off a debt to God for Adam’s sin and ours. He takes it away by transforming it, by taking it inside of him and not giving it back. An image can be helpful in explaining this: What Jesus did in his death, in the way he died in love, is analogous to what a water filter does. It takes in water that contains impurities, dirt, toxins, and occasional poisons. The filter does not simply let the water flow through it, as does an electrical cord; rather the water filter holds the dirt and toxins inside of itself and gives back only the pure water. In simple language, Jesus took away the sin of the world by taking in hatred and giving back love; by taking in anger and giving out graciousness; by taking in envy and giving back blessing; by taking in bitterness and giving out warmth; by taking in pettiness and giving back compassion; by taking in chaos and giving back peace; and by taking in sin and giving back forgiveness.

Though I think this could be difficult and perhaps even dangerous, if not based in the power and grace of Christ, he also urges us:

What is most important here is that this is not something we are asked to simply admire. We are asked to imitate it, to do in our lives what Jesus did and, in this way, keep incarnate the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. We are asked to go into our families, communities, churches, and civil society, where always there is tension, and become the shock absorbers and water filters that absorb the sin and don’t give it back. Our task, too, is to help take away the sins of the world. We do this whenever we take in hatred, anger, envy, pettiness, and bitterness and hold them, transmute them, and eventually give them back as love, graciousness, blessing, compassion, warmth, and forgiveness.

I’m not sure that our task is to help take away the sins of the world as much as to open ourselves and others to the loving and transforming power of the crucified Jesus who died and was raised.

As I think I said that afternoon, Christ gave us life so that we might have new life. I pray that the community may be open to that new life – in the face of death and suffering.

May the hope of the Risen Lord sustain them (and me), even as we live in Holy Saturday, a day of waiting and longing.

A good Good Friday

A few weeks ago I had arranged to go to Debajiados for Good Friday. It’s one of the most remote villages and, if it has been raining, you can’t get in by car, even in four-wheel drive!

This morning about 7:15 I called Juan Ángel and asked him about the road and when they were going to begin the Stations. The road was fine and they had planned to start at 8:00. I had planned fro 9 or later. I almost panicked but he offered to put starting off until I arrived.

I arrived in 45 minutes – since the road was good and there was no traffic.

Entering the village I found Juan Ángel, his kids, and a woman preparing the stations. Later I found out that someone had broken up a few of the stations they had arranged earlier. (Someone said it was some local evangelicals.)

The stations started at about nine – with a nice crowd, including a surprising number of men and a lot of kids.

When we reached the church at the end of the stations at about 11, they decided to go straight into the celebration of the Passion.

The celebration was straight-forward, though I was moved by the veneration of the cross.

One thing I noted is how hard it is for most of the people in these aldeas [villages] to read. But then  I remember that many of these people have had little formal education. One rather articulate single twenty-three year old who read pretty well has only had two years of formal education. With so little, some do so much.

After a simple lunch I went with Juan angel to bring Communion to his parents who have been ill for several months and haven’t been able to get to church. No wonder. They live about 30 minutes from Debajiados by horse – up and down hills.

So the poor horse, named Payaso – the clown, carried Communion and me to the sick. 

I recognized Antonio, his father, who had been very active in the church in Debajiados. We talked, I shared prayer and Communion and then I left with Juan Ángel’s grandmother and some other relatives who were visiting. On the way out we found out that someone drowned in a nearby water hole. I ended up giving a number of folks a ride so that they could go to the village where the accident happened.

What is the meaning of this for me?

Today as I prepared for the Celebration of the Word I was struck by two passages which spoke to me of how God didn’t just suffer for us; in Jesus, God suffers with us.

In the letter to the Hebrews (3:16), the author characterizes Jesus as a high priest but 

“we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who has similarly been tested in every way, yet without sin.”

Isaiah 53:4 speaks of the suffering servant in these words:

it was our pain that he bore, our sufferings he endured.

We do not have a God who is far from our sufferings, who does not share in them. We have a God who is with us in our suffering; that does not take away the pain but it may give us strength to struggle and hope.

Maybe this image I captured of a small cross on the road, amid the people's feet, sums it up well. Christ is here, looking at life from the ground up, seeing the worn and tired feet, but present - and vulnerable.

 In this way we are called to be a church that resembles Jesus, as Jon Sobrino writes:

To resemble Jesus is to reproduce the structure of his life. In gospel terms, the structure of Jesus’ life is a structure of incarnation, of becoming real flesh in real history. And Jesus’ life is structured in function of the fulfillment of a mission— the mission of proclaiming the good news of the Reign of God, inaugurating that Reign through all signs of every sort, and denouncing the fearsome reality of the anti-Reign. The structure of Jesus’ life meant taking on the sin of the world, and not just standing idly by looking at it from the outside. It meant taking on a sin that, today, surely, continues to manifest its greatest power in the fact that it puts millions of human beings to death. Finally, the structure of Jesus’ life meant rising again and raising again— having, and bestowing on others, life, hope, and gladness.

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The quote from Sobrino is found in his essay “The Samaritan Church and the Principle of Mercy,”
found in Christine M. Bochen, ed., The Way of Mercy. Orbis Books, pp. 60-61.

Good Friday: with the poor and the infirm

I woke up about 6:00 am in Agua Buena on Good Friday. After two cups of coffee and about an hour of reading psalms, I walked around the village. 

They were preparing for the Via Crucis, the Stations of the Cross. A tradition they have there is to prepare fourteen large crosses in the road, decorated with flowers. The crosses are made of jiote, also known as indio desnudo (the naked Indian) or bursera simaruba.

I left Agua Buena about 8:00 am to get to El Bálsamo, one of the most remote and poor villages in the parish.

There I first visited an elderly woman to bring her Communion. Clementina will turn 100 in December and, tough she is weak, she is quite aware of what is happening. A woman of deep faith, she talked my ear off.

I was taken by the deep faith of this illiterate woman who has a deep love for God. Before leaving, I asked her to bless me. It was only appropriate.

I joined the Via Crucis – Stations of the Cross – at the third station.

They are using the stations we developed for the parish Via Crucis last Friday. One element of these stations is that we used this quote of Pope Francis this quote of Pope Francis (from his September 7, 2013 homily) at every station:

"My Christian faith urges me to look to the Cross. How I wish that all men and women of good will would look to the Cross if only for a moment! There, we can see God’s reply: violence is not answered with violence, death is not answered with the language of death. In the silence of the Cross, the uproar of weapons ceases and the language of reconciliation, forgiveness, dialogue, and peace is spoken."

The village church leaders led the stations, but a little girl carried the cross for most of the procession.

At the end of the stations, we gathered in their small church. they asked me to say a few words.

For me one of the most important things to share with these people is that Christ is there suffering with them. There is a strong sense of Christ suffering for them and the salvation brought by the Cross (and Resurrection). But I think it is important to emphasize the presence of Christ with us in our sufferings – not to take them away, but to give us the courage to live – and even hope – in the midst of suffering.

I would soon see an example of this.

After sitting around and talking with some of the leader, I left for Delicias, Dolores. We got there early and I went to visit a sick couple.

As we approached the house I saw a good number of kids in the doorway and an older man (only 72) there. Juan Ángel’s arms were hanging by his side – probably the result of a stroke or other cause. He was quite friendly. My guide, Maximo, their son-in-law, brought out Juan’s wife, Josefina, who is blind and 74 years old. 

We spoke and I found out they had been married for 51 years! We talked and prayed and I shared the Eucharist with them. I made a point of talking to the grandchildren gathered at the door, urging them to take care of their grandparents. Maximo told me that though he would like to move to another place to make a better living, at the insistence of his wife they remain there to help these two frail, ill parents.

I was moved and told them we would pray for them at the service.

There were not a lot of people at the service, the Good Friday Liturgy. But it was a time full of grace.

After the service, I talked with a few of the folks, only to find out that two of them were going to get married in May.

I returned home to Plan Grande tired, but grateful for the chance to have spent these two days with the poor – especially with the sick.

As Christ accompanies us in our sorrow and suffering, I was gifted with the opportunity to accompany the poor and the sick – and to be blessed by a ninety-nine year old woman.

 This year Good Friday has taken on a new meaning - Christ Jesus suffering at our side.