Friday, April 6, 2012

Good Friday - Stations of the Cross in Jerusalem

Text: Mark 15:22-39 (see below)

Friday, September 13, 1991. It was the Feast of the Holy Cross (Eastern observance) and I was in Jerusalem on a pilgrimage with the College of Preachers. We were concluding our time at Saint George’s College which had been our home for two weeks. Our group had been to the Galilee, hiked in the desert, sang “Away in a Manger” in Bethlehem. But now we were ready for what was to become the pinnacle of our time in the Holy Land – walking the Via Dolorosa and praying the Stations of the Cross.

John Peterson, then Dean of the College, had prepared us for what we might encounter: disinterested shop keepers going about their business who had seen this ritual hundreds of times; cruise ship groups in large numbers easily identified by their identical hats; policemen with the semi-automatic guns ready in the event of an attack; residents of the Old City pushing past you on their way home; and fellow pilgrims visiting Jerusalem who might join our group by chance. Nothing could really prepare you for what was to come.

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We walked from the College and through Herod’s Gate over the uneven cobble stones to the First Station located at the Church of the Flagellation. Such irony to begin our journey for the church which remembers such an horrific event is beautiful with a striking mosaic of the crown of thorns on the ceiling. The liturgy remembers how Jesus was judged by the authorities and sentenced to death. Prayers are said for all persons condemned to death for whatever reason; those imprisoned justly and unjustly.

A few in our group then pick up the cross for the first time. We head out onto the Via Dolorosa stopping twice before we merge into the mass of human traffic on the El Wad. A Third and Fourth Station are read in the midst of all this commotion. It is difficult to concentrate and to listen but somehow the group stays the course.

As we begin our ascent up the second portion of the Via Dolorosa, I notice that two women have joined our group. They are both middle aged and clearly American. One of the ladies is assisting the other who appears to be ill or struggling with some ailment. I am moved by the compassion and care that they offer to each other as they walk these Stations with us.


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We arrived at the Sixth Station where the Church remembers Veronica wiping the brow of Jesus. There at the Sixth Station in Jerusalem you discover a convent run by the Little Sisters of Jesus. On that September day, our group was welcomed into the atrium of their tiny chapel where there are pictures recalling this moment between Jesus and Veronica. The Little Sisters vocation is to reach out to the poorest of the poor in Jerusalem offering love, consolation and companionship.

Now my readers know that you will not find Veronica or any mention of her story in the Bible. The tradition of this poignant action comes from the European Middle Ages and from the faithful who could not make a pilgrimage to the Holy City of Jerusalem. Whatever its origin, the truth of this Station reminds us of the power of the human touch and the call for all persons to offer compassion to those is acute need.

After praying for the poor and asking God to give each of us a heart open to compassion and hands ready to comfort and console, I asked if I could carry the cross to the next Station. John carefully laid the cross on my shoulders and he asked if others wanted to assist me. The two ladies who had joined the group raised their hands and came forward. The three of us now carried the cross up the stairs of the Via Dolorosa and on to the packed street known as Suq Khan ez-Zeit or the ancient Roman Cardo.

We moved slowly not only because of the crowds but because one of the ladies simply was not able to move quickly. Yet, this woman was determined and intentional to complete the task. Every step seemed to have meaning for her. So, we made our way gradually and surely to the Seventh Station.

The three of us, once we had completed our responsibility, faded to the back of the group to allow others a chance to carry the cross or lead a reflection. I introduced my self now that we had shared a moment together in the Holy City. Alice and Ruth were from Minnesota and had come to Jerusalem to visit the Holy sites. Ruth had been diagnosed with Stage Four cancer and before she died she desired to see the land where Jesus lived. Alice had agreed to travel to Israel with her friend and serve as a nurse and companion along the way.

Needless to say, there on that busy street, time sort of stood still as stories were shared and profound truths were recognized. For me, the Stations of the Cross that day were a spiritual exercise leading me into a deeper understanding of God. For Ruth, this was a sacramental journey from death to life.

We continued on our way and as we did more members of the group gathered around Ruth and Alice encouraging her and assisting Ruth up stairs and along passageways. And as we did, something began to happen: we were all being transfigured in the process. Ruth’s presence and example transformed the Stations from being simply a remembrance of our Lord’s Passion and death to a real life confession of our corporate faith.

The Parvis
The final five Stations are all found in the Church of the Resurrection. Up the tiny curving, worn stairs, we climbed to the Calvary Balcony, where a mosaic of Abraham offering his son Isaac foreshadows the sacrifice of Christ by God. While we were in that small area in the great Church, the minaret located across the Parvis began to call the Muslims to their evening prayers. A few blocks away, the Jews were gathering at the Western Wall, it was Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, the holiest day of the year.

My mind was racing with all of the images, sites, smells, persons around me. It seemed that the entire world, for one brief moment was at prayer offering to the God of Abraham, Ishmael, and Jesus intercession for healing, forgiveness, praise, adoration, understanding, and for new life. A warm peaceful feeling crept through my entire body as I felt one with God, with my fellow pilgrims, and with the world.

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We stood as a group in front of the entrance to the Empty Tomb. John led us in our confessions and in prayers for healing. There is no other church in the world that can boast of an Empty Tomb. Have you ever stopped to think about that fact? The Empty Tomb gives us meaning and purpose. And as John loves to say, to this every day: “We are all citizens of Jerusalem because of the Empty Tomb – not only this earthly Jerusalem, but also the heavenly Jerusalem, where we look forward to feasting on that heavenly bread.”

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We ended our worship by singing “Jesus Christ is Risen Today”. I don’t remember a time in my life when I sang that hymn as loudly as I did that late afternoon or with such joy. I looked over at Ruth and Alice; their faces were full of peace and delight with tears freely flowing. We offered one another the Peace of Christ certain in the knowledge that Christ had risen from the dead. He had risen indeed!

Love One Another - Brian

No More Rebels, But Servants
Frederic William Farrar

By the cross we, too, are crucified with Christ; but alive in Christ. We are no more rebels, but servants; no more servants, but sons!

Source: Huffington Post

Mark 15:22-39
Then they brought Jesus to the place called Golgotha (which means the place of a skull). And they offered him wine mixed with myrrh; but he did not take it. And they crucified him, and divided his clothes among them, casting lots to decide what each should take. It was nine o’clock in the morning when they crucified him. The inscription of the charge against him read, ‘The King of the Jews.’ And with him they crucified two bandits, one on his right and one on his left. Those who passed by derided him, shaking their heads and saying, ‘Aha! You who would destroy the temple and build it in three days, save yourself, and come down from the cross!’ In the same way the chief priests, along with the scribes, were also mocking him among themselves and saying, ‘He saved others; he cannot save himself. Let the Messiah, the King of Israel, come down from the cross now, so that we may see and believe.’ Those who were crucified with him also taunted him. When it was noon, darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon. At three o’clock Jesus cried out with a loud voice, ‘Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?’ which means, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’ When some of the bystanders heard it, they said, ‘Listen, he is calling for Elijah.’ And someone ran, filled a sponge with sour wine, put it on a stick, and gave it to him to drink, saying, ‘Wait, let us see whether Elijah will come to take him down.’ Then Jesus gave a loud cry and breathed his last. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. Now when the centurion, who stood facing him, saw that in this way he breathed his last, he said, ‘Truly this man was God’s Son!’

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