Reflection: Stations of the Cross

Note: Every Friday during Lent the deacons of our parish lead the people in praying the Stations of the Cross. Before praying the Stations, we usually give a brief Lenten reflection to help us conform our minds and hearts to God's holy will. This past Friday of the Second Week of Lent it was my turn. My reflection follows:
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I sometimes think we take the Cross for granted, thus dulling the reality of Christ's passion. Or maybe we belittle His sufferings, believing it was somehow different for Him, that in His Divine Person His suffering wasn't real, like our suffering.

It's important to state this clearly: Jesus' sufferings were very real and more intense than anything you and I might endure. And they encompassed so much. 

The agonizing hours He spent in the garden, all the while ignored by His three closest friends. And later to be abandoned by these and by virtually all whom He loved, even betrayed by one of them.

He was arrested, tried and convicted for crimes He didn't commit; falsely accused and subjected to a steady stream of lies.

He was insulted, taunted, repeatedly struck and spit on, flogged almost to the point of death. Then the King of Kings was painfully and ignominiously crowned with thorns.

Condemned and executed like a common criminal, as He died, He endured more taunts, insults and mockery.

And through it all, the Father kept His silence. Can we even begin to plumb the depths of Christ's suffering?

Yet all this suffering would have been wasted, it would not have redeemed a single soul, if Jesus had not endured it with love.

Christ's suffering alone didn't redeem the world. It was His love - the love with which He bore and offered His sufferings to the Father for us. This is the same love that was present at the creation - the love that brought everything into being. A love we repay with sin.

There's an awful lot of suffering in our world today. Just read the headlines. Watch the evening news. Or perhaps you need only look at those seated near you, or at yourself. Illness, the death of a loved one, a child who has strayed and turned his back on God, financial problems, family strife, addictions... all these sufferings are very real in our lives and in the lives of those we know.

But have we learned to bear our sufferings as Jesus taught us? Even though surrounded by darkness, the light of His love burned brightly and enlightened others. With one look of compassion he brought tears of repentance to the eyes of Peter. He prayed for His executioners. He welcomed the good thief to paradise.

He died because He did the will of the Father, freely and out of love. He didn't simply endure His sufferings. He suffered because of His great love for you.

Suffering that is merely endured does little for our souls except harden them. It just turns us inward and floods us with self-pity, the first and normal reaction to suffering. But self-pity can be a cancer; it can erode our faith, our courage, and our capacity to feel compassion for others...our capacity to love.

Thomas Merton once wrote that, "The Christian must not only accept suffering: he must make it holy. For nothing so easily becomes unholy as suffering." [No Man is an Island, p. 77]

Now, I'm not suggesting that you imitate those who have an almost morbid love of suffering. From my experience, they tend to be dour, humorless people. No. Christ wants us to love. Love can cause the greatest suffering of all - heartbreak - but it also brings the greatest joy.

Rejoice!

God wants us to be joyful. That's why next Sunday is Laetare Sunday, a day to rejoice, even in the midst of repentance. After all, we repent because we are filled with hope, the hope of forgiveness. Is this not a good reason to be joyful?

And it's also why Good Friday isn't called "Bad Friday." It's good because it's the ultimate manifestation of God's overwhelming love for you -- not some generic love, but a very personal, individual love, a love in which our God lays down His life for you.

And so today, as we pray these Stations together, let's recall Jesus' prayer for those who nailed Him to that Cross: "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do" [Lk 23:34].

When we return to our homes, let's not take up where we left off, carrying the burdens of things we can't forgive.

Jesus began His ministry by telling us to do two things: "Repent and believe in the Gospel" [Mk 1:15].

We talk a lot about believing in and living the Gospel these days, and that's a very good thing. But let's not forget the other part. Let's not forget to repent of our sins.

"Do not weep for me..."

"Do not weep for me," Jesus told the women of Jerusalem, "weep instead for yourselves and for your children" [Lk 23:28].

It's okay if we don't weep for Jesus this Lent. He won't mind. Rather let's follow Peter's example -- Peter, who wept bitter tears for his own sins. Then maybe we'll be able to forgive those who sin against us.

God love you.

Reflection: Friday Stations of the Cross

When I was a senior in high school our chemistry teacher, a priest, read the Sermon on the Mount every morning. He told us this was the only way he could ensure he’d at least try to do as Jesus asks. Don’t worry, I’m not going to read the entire Sermon on the Mount to you.

But among its opening words, in the beatitudes, Jesus makes a promise: “Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy” [Mt 5:7]

I think this might be a good verse for us to focus on today, as we begin our Lenten journey. It’s certainly one that Pope Francis has preached frequently during these opening weeks of the Year of Mercy. Indeed, mercy and forgiveness have been at the core of his teaching since he was elected pope.

Mercy and forgiveness. Mercy, of course, is all about forgiveness, but true mercy is a divine attribute, one that we can share only through God’s grace. That’s right; we need God’s help to be merciful because we’re surrounded by the unmerciful. We live in a world that rejects acts of mercy, that rejects forgiveness, a world that opts instead for self-interest, for revenge.

To be merciful, to be forgiving, is to be like Jesus.  Pope Francis reminds us of this in strong words when he says, “If you can’t forgive, you are not a Christian.” Strong words indeed: You cannot be Christian, a follower of Jesus Christ, if you cannot forgive as Jesus forgives.

St. John tells us that “God is love” [1 Jn 4:8] and it’s through His mercy and forgiveness that we experience His love most deeply.

Look at how Our Lord forgives in the Gospel. He doesn’t condemn. He doesn’t denounce. He doesn’t beat the penitent down with recriminations. No, Jesus simply forgives.

He began His ministry with the words, “Repent and believe in the gospel” [Mk 1:15], and as He completed it on the Cross He said, “Father, forgive them…” [Lk 23:34]

Jesus extends divine mercy to all who come to Him in repentance. And when Jesus forgives, the sinner is filled with joy, for he’s tasted God’s love up close and personal.

Let’s all look into our hearts today, into the dark corners where we’ve hidden all those whom we just can’t forgive. Let’s carry them out, bring them out into the light of God’s love. Let Jesus forgive them, and He will give you the grace to do the same.

God forgives and calls us to extend mercy and forgiveness to others…all others. This is what the power of the Cross is all about.

As we follow Jesus along the way of the Cross this afternoon, let’s ask God to set us free from the habit of sin, to give us the grace to be merciful, to fill our hearts with his love and truth. 

Lenten Reflection: Stations of the Cross

A reflection given at the Stations of the Cross on Friday, March 22.

As we pray the Stations together I suspect that, like me, most of you focus on Jesus and His sufferings. Joining Him on the Way of the Cross, we’re so saddened that our God was treated so abominably. But with this deep sorrow comes joy, the recognition that He did this out of love, that we are loved so greatly. It’s why we call next Friday, “Good Friday.” For it was through His passion, death and resurrection that He brought redemption to a sinful world and, with it, the gift of eternal life. And so I suppose this odd mixture of sorrow and joy is as it should be.

But if our reflection goes no further, if we focus solely on Jesus’ sufferings and our thanksgiving for His act of redemption, then we’ve missed a key element of this devotion. For the Stations of the Cross, like this holy season of Lent, is a call to conversion. It’s a time to examine ourselves and our response to Jesus’ call. Indeed, at each station Jesus pleads with us to reform our lives, to turn away from sin, to accept the Gospel. It’s the same call He proclaimed as He began His public ministry: “Repent and believe in the Gospel.”

Consider the first station. As He is condemned by Pilate, He looks into my heart and your heart and reminds us of the times we have condemned others. It’s the same look He gave Peter in the high priest’s courtyard after His friend had denied Him, betrayed Him, again and again. And we hear Him say to us, “Who are you to condemn? Who are you to exalt yourself above another and confine that child of God, that sister or brother of mine, to the category of human debris?”

Yes, standing there before Pilate, Jesus tells us, “There’s only one Lawgiver and Judge…and it is I, not you! Leave God’s justice to me, and love one another.” Once again He issues the call: “Repent and believe in the Gospel.”

Then we watch as Jesus, for love of us, takes up His cross. Bloodied and beaten, He looks up at us, and if we listen we hear His words:

“…whoever does not take up his cross and follow after me is not worthy of me.”

But you and I, as we strive mightily to avoid any kind of cross in our lives, find ourselves alone, unable to accept the burden.

…the burden of a terminal illness

…or the death of a spouse or a child

...or failure, rejection, loneliness or pain, or the memory of our own past sinfulness.

Again Jesus looks at us, again with love, and says:

“I have to do this alone, for that is the Father’s will. But you don’t. You need only ask and I will help carry your burden. Come to me...For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.”

Again, we hear the call to conversion: “Repent and believe in the Gospel.”

And then Jesus falls. Indeed, He falls three times…and the world simply watches. No one goes to help Him. How often are we just the observers? People fall in a thousand ways all around us – and we do nothing. They hunger, they thirst, they become ill, they’re imprisoned, they’re rejected by others, they’re confined at home…and we watch.

And then we fall…and suddenly you and I know the pain, the pain of absence, the pain of being watched but not helped. Don’t they know what I’m suffering? But He knows. He’s been there. He looks up at us from under the heavy cross and reaches out a wounded hand, a hand larger than the universe itself, and holds you in His forever-pierced palm. And then He speaks, encouraging us, pleading with us to love one another, as He loves us…

“…whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.”

And so it goes. Every station along that Way of the Cross is a call to conversion. At every point Jesus speaks to us, pleads with us, begs us, calls us to conversion, to holiness. In His Cross we see the ultimate expression of love and the power for overcoming evil. Only God's love and grace can set our hearts and minds free from the tyranny of our own sinfulness.

Pope Francis speaking to the crowd gathered last Sunday in St. Peter’s Square for the Angelus, reminded us all of God’s love and mercy:

“God never tires of forgiving,” the Pope said, “but at times we get tired of asking for forgiveness. Let us never tire, let us never tire! He is the loving Father who always pardons, who has that heart of mercy for us all. And let us too learn to be merciful to everyone.”

But we must ask for that grace. We must ask for the virtues of mercy and kindness, virtues that spring from a divine heart full of love and forgiveness. We need to discover, grow, and ultimately take responsibility for building the Kingdom right here, right where God has placed us.

Lent is almost over, brothers and sisters. Let’s approach these final days filled with childlike joy, knowing that we’re the cherished children of our Father. We aren’t in charge of our salvation, nor are we the best judges of how much we’re achieving. So let God be God and just go about the work He’s given us to do, that of being His joyful children.

This, I think, is the holiness to which He calls us.

Praised be Jesus Christ.

Reflection: Stations of the Cross - Friday 5th Week of Lent

Usually when praying the Stations of the Cross, I find myself focusing on Jesus and His sufferings. I suspect I’m not alone in this, for as we join Jesus on this journey, this Way of the Cross, our hearts are easily overwhelmed with sorrow that our God should have been treated so abominably.

But along with this deep sorrow also comes joy, the recognition that He did this out of an overwhelming love for us, His creatures, that we are loved so greatly. It’s why we call next Friday, “Good Friday.” After all it was through His passion, death and resurrection that He brought redemption to a sinful world and, with it, the gift of eternal life.

And this odd mixture of sorrow and joy is as it should be. But if our reflection goes no further, if we focus solely on Jesus’ sufferings and our thanksgiving for His act of redemption, then we have missed the true purpose of this devotion. Brothers and sisters, we must take this devotion and our personal reflection to the next level. We must look into ourselves and our response to Jesus’ call.

For the true purpose of the Stations of the Cross mirrors the very purpose of Lent itself: it’s a call to conversion. Indeed, at each station Jesus pleads with us to reform our lives, to turn away from sin, to accept the Gospel. It’s the same call He proclaimed as He began His public ministry: “Repent and believe in the Gospel.”
 

Look at the first station. As He is condemned by Pilate, He looks into my heart and your heart and reminds us of the times we have condemned others. It’s the same look He gave Peter in the high priest’s courtyard after His friend had denied Him, betrayed Him, again and again.

And we hear Him say to us, “Who are you to condemn? Who are you to exalt yourself above another and confine that child of God, that sister or brother of mine, to the category of human debris?” Yes, standing there before Pilate, Jesus tells us, “There’s only one Lawgiver and Judge…and it is I, not you! Leave God’s justice to me, and love one another.” Once again He issues the call: “Repent and believe in the Gospel.”

Then we watch as Jesus, for love of us, takes up His cross. He looks up at us, bloodied and beaten, and if we listen we hear His words: “…whoever does not take up his cross and follow after me is not worthy of me.” But you and I, as we strive mightily to avoid any kind of cross in our lives, find ourselves alone, unable to accept the burden.

...the burden of a terminal illness

...or the death of a spouse or a child

...or failure, rejection, loneliness or pain, or the memory of our own past sinfulness.

Again Jesus looks at us, again with love, and says: “I have to do this alone, for that is the Father’s will. But you don’t. You need only ask and I will help carry your burden. Come to me...For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.” And again, we hear the call to conversion: “Repent and believe in the Gospel.”

And then Jesus falls. Indeed, He falls three times…and the world simply watches. No one goes to help Him.

How often are we just the observers? People fall in a thousand ways all around us – and we do nothing. They hunger, they thirst, they become ill, they’re imprisoned, they’re rejected by others, they’re confined at home…and we watch.

And then we fall…and suddenly you and I know the pain, the pain of absence, the pain of being watched but not helped. Don’t they know what I’m suffering? But He knows. He’s been there. 

He looks up at us from under the heavy cross and reaches out a wounded hand, a hand larger than the universe itself, and holds you in His forever-pierced palm. And then He speaks, encouraging us, pleading with us to love one another as He loves us: “…whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.”

And so it goes. Every station along that Way of the Cross is a call to conversion. At every point Jesus speaks to us, pleads with us, begs us, calls us to conversion, to holiness.

In His Cross we see the ultimate expression of love and the power for overcoming evil. Only God's love and grace can set our hearts and minds free from the tyranny of our own sinfulness. But we must ask for that grace. We must ask for the virtues of mercy and kindness, virtues that spring from a heart full of love and forgiveness. 

As cherished children of our Father, trying hard to imitate Jesus, we need to be like a small child. We need to discover, grow, and ultimately take responsibility for building the Kingdom right here, right where God has placed us.

Lent is almost over, brothers and sisters. Let’s approach these final days filled with joy that we’re the cherished children of our Father. We aren’t in charge of our salvation, nor are we the best judges of how much we’re achieving. So let God be God and just go about the work He’s given us to do, that of being His joyful children. This, I think, is the holiness to which He calls us.