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GOOD FRIDAY
THE PASSION OF THE LORD
THE WAY OF THE CROSS
COLOSSEUM
ROME, 18 APRIL 2025
[Multimedia]
Introduction
The road to Calvary passes through the streets we tread each day. Usually,
Lord, we are walking in the other direction, and so it may just happen that we
encounter you, catch sight of your face, meet your gaze. We are going about our
way as usual, and you are coming towards us. Your eyes look into our hearts.
Then we find it hard to continue on, as if nothing happened. We can turn
around, contemplate you and follow you. We can walk in your footsteps and come
to realize that it was good for us to change direction.
From the Gospel according to Mark (10:21)
Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said, “You lack one thing; go, sell what
you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven;
then come, follow me.”
Your name is Jesus, and truly in you “God saves.” The God of Abraham who calls,
the God of Isaac who provides, the God of Jacob who blesses, the God of Israel
who liberates: in your gaze, Lord, as you pass through Jerusalem, an entire
revelation is contained. The steps you take as you leave the city can
foreshadow our own exodus to a new land. You came to change the world: for us,
that means changing direction, seeing the goodness of your path, letting the
memory of your glance transform our hearts.
The Stations of the Cross is the prayer of people on the move. It disrupts our
usual routine and enables us to pass from weariness and apathy towards true joy.
Yes, following the path of Jesus has a price: in this world that puts a price
on everything, gratuitousness proves costly. In that gift, however, everything
blossoms anew: a city split into factions and torn by conflict can move towards
reconciliation; an arid piety can rediscover the freshness of God’s promises;
and a heart of stone can turn into a heart of flesh. We need only hear his
invitation: “Come! Follow me!” And trust in that gaze of love.
First Station
Jesus is condemned to death
From the Gospel according to Luke (23:13-16)
Pilate then called together the chief priests, the leaders, and the people, and
said to them, “You brought me this man as one who was perverting the people; and
here I have examined him in your presence and have not found this man guilty of
any of your charges against him. Neither has Herod, for he sent him back to us.
Indeed, he has done nothing to deserve death. I will therefore have him flogged
and release him.”
It did not work out that way. Pilate did not set you free. Yet, it might have
gone differently. Such is the dramatic interplay of our individual freedoms.
That was what you so greatly respected in us, Lord. You trusted Herod, Pilate,
your friends and your enemies alike. You never take back the trust with which
you place yourself in our hands. We can learn marvellous lessons from this: how
to free those unjustly accused, how to acknowledge the complexity of situations,
how to protest lethal judgements. Even Herod could have followed the holy
restlessness that attracted him to you: yet he chose not to, even when he was
finally in your presence. Pilate could have freed you: he had already acquitted
you. He chose not to. The way of the cross, Jesus, is a possibility that we
have already too many times failed to consider. Let us admit it: we have been
prisoners of the roles we choose to continue playing, fearful of the challenge
of a change in the direction of our lives. Yet you are always there, silently
standing before us, in every one of our sisters and brothers exposed to
judgement and bigotry. Religious disputes, legal quibbles, the so-called common
sense that keeps us from getting involved in the fate of others: a thousand
reasons drag us to the side of Herod, the priests, Pilate and the crowd. Yet,
it could be otherwise. You, Jesus, do not wash your hands of all this. You
continue to love, in silence. You have made your choice, and now it is our
turn.
Let us pray, saying: Open my heart, Jesus!
| When I see someone I have already judged, |
|
Open my heart, Jesus! |
| When my certainties are simply prejudices, |
|
Open my heart, Jesus! |
| When I am harsh and unbending, |
|
Open my heart, Jesus! |
| When goodness quietly attracts me, |
|
Open my heart, Jesus! |
| When I want to be strong, but fear my frailty, |
|
Open my heart, Jesus! |
Second Station
Jesus carries his cross
From the Gospel according to Luke (9:43-45)
While everyone was amazed at all that he was doing, he said to his disciples,
“Let these words sink into your ears: The Son of Man is going to be betrayed
into human hands.” But they did not understand this saying; its meaning was
concealed from them, so that they could not perceive it. And they were afraid
to ask him about this saying.
For months, perhaps years, you bore that burden, Jesus. When you spoke of it,
no one listened to you: there was invincible resistance even to thinking about
it. You did not ask for the cross, yet you felt it, ever more clearly, moving
towards you. If you accepted it, it was because you felt not only its burden,
but also its responsibility. The way of your cross, Jesus, is not only uphill.
It is also your descent towards those whom you loved, towards this world that
God loves. It is a response, an acceptance of responsibility. The cross has
its price, as do all the deepest bonds, the greatest loves. The burden you bear
speaks of the Spirit that moves you, the Holy Spirit “who is Lord, the giver of
life.” Why, really, are we afraid even to question you about this? In truth,
we are the ones who gasp, out of breath, as a result of our attempts to flee
responsibility. All we need do is to stop running away and to remain in the
company of those you have given us, in the situations where you have placed us.
To bind ourselves to them, recognizing that only in this way can we stop being
prisoners of ourselves. Selfishness burdens us more than the cross.
Indifference burdens us more than sharing. The prophet had foretold it:
Even youths will faint and be weary, and the young will fall exhausted; but
those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with
wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not
faint (Is 40:30-31).
Let us pray, saying: Deliver us from weariness, Lord
| If we feel burdened by life, |
|
Deliver us from weariness, Lord! |
| If we lack the will to help others, |
|
Deliver us from weariness, Lord! |
| If we seek excuses to shirk our duties, |
|
Deliver us from weariness, Lord! |
| If we have talents and skills to share, |
|
Deliver us from weariness, Lord! |
| If our hearts rebel against injustice, |
|
Deliver us from weariness, Lord! |
Third Station
Jesus falls the first time
From the Gospel according to Luke (10:13-15)
“Woe to you, Chorazin! Woe to you, Bethsaida! For if the deeds of power done
in you had been done in Tyre and Sidon, they would have repented long ago,
sitting in sackcloth and ashes. But at the judgement it will be more tolerable
for Tyre and Sidon than for you. And you, Capernaum, will you be exalted to
heaven? No, you will be brought down to Hades.”
It was like hitting rock bottom, and you spoke harsh words, Jesus, about those
places that were so dear to you. The seed of your word seemed to have fallen
into the abyss, as did all your acts of deliverance. Every prophet felt himself
plunging into the abyss of failure, only then to get up and keep walking in the
ways of God. Your life, Jesus, is a parable: on the soil of our lives, you never
fall in vain. Even at that first fall, your disappointment was soon interrupted
by the joy of remembering the disciples whom you had sent out: they returned
from their mission and told you of the signs of the Kingdom of God. Then you
rejoiced with a spontaneous, overflowing joy that made you leap to your feet
with contagious energy. You blessed the Father, who conceals his plans from the
wise and the learned in order to reveal them to the little ones. Even the way
of the cross is traced close to the earth. The mighty withdraw from it; they
desire to grasp at heaven. Yet heaven is here below; it hangs low, and we can
encounter it even when we fall flat on the ground. Today’s builders of Babel
tell us that there is no room for losers, and that those who fall along the way
are losers. Theirs is the construction site of Hell. God’s economy, on the
other hand, does not kill, discard or crush. It is lowly, faithful to the
earth. Your way, Jesus, is the way of the Beatitudes. It does not crush, but
cultivates, repairs and protects.
Let us pray, saying: May your kingdom come!
| For those who think they have failed, |
|
May your
kingdom come! |
| To challenge an economy that kills, |
|
May your
kingdom come! |
| To restore strength to those who have fallen, |
|
May your
kingdom come! |
| In a world of competition and competitors, |
|
May your
kingdom come! |
| For those left behind, lacking hope for the future, |
|
May your
kingdom come! |
Fourth Station
Jesus meets his Mother
From the Gospel according to Luke (8:19-21)
Then his mother and his brothers came to him, but they could not reach him
because of the crowd. And he was told, “Your mother and your brothers are
standing outside, wanting to see you.” But he said to them, “My mother and my
brothers are those who hear the word of God and do it.”
Your Mother is there, on the way to the cross: she was your first disciple.
With quiet determination, with the wisdom born of pondering all these things in
her heart, your Mother is present. From the moment she was asked to welcome you
in her womb, she turned to you. She bent her ways to yours. This was not a
sacrifice but a continuous discovery, all the way to Calvary. To follow you is
to let you go; to possess you is to make room for your newness. As every mother
knows, children constantly surprise us. Beloved Son, you realize that your
mother and your brothers and sisters are all those who hear your words and let
themselves be changed, those who do not speak, but act. In God, words are
deeds, promises are realities. On the way to the cross, O Mother, you are among
the few who remember this. Now it is your Son who needs you: he knows that you
do not despair. He senses that you continue to give birth to the Word in your
heart. We too, Jesus, can follow you because we were begotten by your
followers. We too can live in the world due to the faith of your Mother and of
the countless witnesses who generate life even in those places where everything
speaks of death. That time, in Galilee, it was they who wanted to see you.
Now, as you ascend to Calvary, you seek the gaze of those who listen and act.
An ineffable understanding. An unbreakable covenant.
Let us pray, saying: Behold my Mother!
| Mary listens, then speaks: |
|
Behold my
Mother! |
| Mary asks and reflects: |
|
Behold my
Mother! |
| Mary sets out with determination: |
|
Behold my
Mother! |
| Mary rejoices and consoles: |
|
Behold my
Mother! |
| Mary welcomes and cares: |
|
Behold my
Mother! |
| Mary risks and protects: |
|
Behold my
Mother! |
| Mary has no fear of judgements and insinuations: |
|
Behold my
Mother! |
| Mary stays and waits: |
|
Behold my
Mother! |
| Mary guides and accompanies: |
|
Behold my
Mother! |
| Mary concedes nothing to death: |
|
Behold my
Mother! |
Fifth Station
Jesus is helped by Simon of Cyrene to carry the cross
From the Gospel according to Luke (23:26)
As they led him away, they seized a man, Simon of Cyrene, who was coming from
the country, and they laid the cross on him, and made him carry it behind Jesus.
He did not volunteer; they stopped him. Simon was returning from his work and
they made him carry the cross of a condemned man. He may have had the right
physique, but surely he had something else in mind, another set of things to
do. Yet we can encounter God like that. Lord, who knows why that name — Simon
of Cyrene — was never forgotten by your disciples. On the way to the cross they
were not there, nor were we, but Simon was. It is true to this day: when
someone offers himself completely, we can be elsewhere, even on the run, or we
can choose to get involved. We believe, Lord, that the reason we remember
Simon’s name was because that unexpected event changed him forever. After that,
he never stopped thinking of you. He became part of your body, a first-hand
witness of how you were unlike any other condemned man. Simon of Cyrene found
himself, without having asked, bearing your cross, like the yoke of which you
once said: “My yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Mt 11:30). Even
beasts plough better when they move forward together. You, Jesus, love to
involve us in your work, which ploughs the earth so that it may be sown anew.
We need the surprising lightness of your yoke. We need people who can stop us
at times and put some burden on our shoulders, one that we have no choice but to
bear. We can work all day long, but without you, it is in vain. Vain is the
toil of the builders, in vain does the watchman keep watch over a city that God
does not build (cf. Ps 127). On the way of the cross, the new Jerusalem
is rising. May we, like Simon of Cyrene, alter our course and work with you.
Let us pray saying: Alter our course, Lord!
| When we go our own way, eyes averted: |
|
Alter our
course, Lord! |
| When news reports do not disturb us: |
|
Alter our
course, Lord! |
| When faces become statistics: |
|
Alter our
course, Lord! |
| When we never find time to listen: |
|
Alter our
course, Lord! |
| When we make decisions in haste: |
|
Alter our
course, Lord! |
| When we refuse to break out of our routine: |
|
Alter our
course, Lord! |
Sixth Station
Veronica wipes the face of Jesus
From the Gospel according to Luke (9:29-31)
While he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became
dazzling white. Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him.
They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about
to accomplish at Jerusalem.
From Psalm 27
“Come,” my heart says, “seek his face!”
Your face, Lord, do I seek. Do not hide your face from me.
Contemplating your face, Jesus, we see into your heart. In your eyes, we see
your determination; it is etched into your face, which manifests your clear
resolve. You see Veronica, as you do me. I too see your face, which tells of
your decision to love us to your last breath and even beyond, for love is strong
as death (cf. Song 8:6). Our hearts are changed by the sight of your
face, which I long to contemplate and cherish. You deliver yourself into our
hands, day by day, in the face of every man and woman we meet, a living reminder
of your Incarnation. Whenever we turn to the least of our brothers and sisters,
we see you, your flesh and your presence among us. In this way, you brighten
our hearts and our facial expressions. Instead of rejecting others, we now
accept them. On the way of the cross, our faces, like yours, can at last become
radiant and a source of blessing. You have impressed the memory of your face in
our hearts as a pledge of your return, when you will recognize each of us at
first glance. Then, perhaps, we will come to be like you. Then we shall be —
face to face, in eternal dialogue, in joyful intimacy — the family of God.
Let us pray, saying: Jesus, impress your memory upon us!
| If our faces are expressionless: |
|
Jesus, impress your memory
upon us! |
| If our hearts are indifferent: |
|
Jesus, impress your memory
upon us! |
| If our actions are divisive: |
|
Jesus, impress your memory
upon us! |
| If our choices cause hurt: |
|
Jesus, impress your memory
upon us! |
| If our plans exclude others: |
|
Jesus, impress your memory
upon us! |
Seventh Station
Jesus falls the second time
From the Gospel according to Luke (15: 2-6)
And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, “This fellow
welcomes sinners and eats with them.” So he told them this parable: “Which one
of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the
ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds
it? When he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders and rejoices. And when
he comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbours, saying to them,
‘Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.’”
Fall and get up again; fall and get up again. That is how you taught us, Jesus,
to approach the adventure of human life. A life that is human because it is
open to the future. We do not permit machines to make mistakes: we expect them
to be perfect. People, on the other hand, get confused, distracted, lost. Yet
they also know joy: the joy of new beginnings, the joy of rebirth. Humans are
not mass-produced but handcrafted: we are unique treasures, a blend of grace and
responsibility. Lord Jesus, you made yourself one of us; you were not afraid to
stumble and fall. All those who are embarrassed by this, those who want to
appear infallible, who hide their own falls yet refuse to pardon those of
others, reject the path that you chose. You, Jesus, are the Lord of joy. In
you, all of us were found and brought home, like the one sheep that had gone
astray. An economy in which the ninety-nine are more important than the one is
inhumane. Yet we have built a world that works like that: a world of
calculation and algorithms, of cold logic and implacable interests. The law of
your home, the divine economy, is different, Lord. When we turn our hearts to
you, who fall and rise again, we experience a change of course and a change of
pace. A conversion that restores our joy and brings us safely home.
Let us pray, saying: Raise us up, God, our salvation!
| We are children who cry at times: |
|
Raise us up, God our
salvation! |
| We are adolescents who feel insecure: |
|
Raise us up, God our
salvation! |
| We are young people dismissed by many adults |
|
Raise us up, God our
salvation! |
| We are adults who have made mistakes: |
|
Raise us up, God our
salvation! |
| We are elderly people who still want to dream: |
|
Raise us up, God our
salvation! |
Eighth Station
Jesus meets the women of Jerusalem
From the Gospel according to Luke (23:27-31)
A great number of the people followed him, and among them were women who were
beating their breasts and wailing for him. But Jesus turned to them and said,
“Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me, but weep for yourselves and for
your children. For the days are surely coming when they will say, ‘Blessed are
the barren, and the wombs that never bore, and the breasts that never nursed.’
Then they will begin to say to the mountains, ‘Fall on us;’ and to the hills,
‘Cover us.’ For if they do this when the wood is green, what will happen when
it is dry?”
In women, Lord, you always saw a special likeness to the heart of God. That is
why, amid the great crowd of people who turned around and followed you that day,
you immediately caught sight of the women and once again felt their closeness.
A city is a different place when women care for those around them, when we see
mothers holding their children and nursing them; then we look beyond power and
profit, and sense the things that really matter. The wailing women find their
hearts moved at the sight of your suffering. For the heart is where things
connect, and thoughts and decisions are born. “Do not weep for me.” God’s heart
throbs with love for his people; he creates a new city: “Weep for yourselves and
for your children.” There is a kind of weeping, indeed, which can bring forth a
new birth. It brings forth tears of regret, unabashed and unrestrained. Lord,
our broken world, and the hurts and offences that tear our human family apart,
call for tears that are heartfelt and not merely perfunctory. Otherwise, the
apocalyptic visions will all come true: we will no longer generate life, and
everything around us will collapse. Faith, on the other hand, can move
mountains. The mountains and the hills will not crash down upon us, but a path
will open up in their midst. It is your path, Jesus: an uphill path, a path on
which the apostles abandoned you, while the faithful women — the mothers of the Church — continued to follow you.
Let us pray, saying: Jesus, grant us a maternal heart!
| You filled the Church’s history with holy women: |
|
Jesus, grant us a maternal heart! |
| You disdained arrogance and domination: |
|
Jesus, grant us a maternal heart! |
| You embraced and consoled the tears of mothers: |
|
Jesus, grant us a maternal heart! |
| You made women the messengers of the resurrection: |
|
Jesus, grant us a maternal heart! |
| You inspire new charisms and missions in the Church: |
|
Jesus, grant us a maternal heart! |
Ninth Station
Jesus falls the third time
From the Gospel according to Luke (7:44-49)
[Jesus] said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave
me no water for my feet, but she has bathed my feet with her tears and dried
them with her hair. You gave me no kiss, but from the time I came in she has
not stopped kissing my feet. You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has
anointed my feet with ointment. Therefore, I tell you, her sins, which were
many, have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love. But the one to whom
little is forgiven, loves little.” Then he said to her, “Your sins are
forgiven.” But those who were at the table with him began to say among
themselves, “Who is this who even forgives sins?”
Not just once or twice, Jesus: you fall yet another time. When you were a
child, like every child, you knew what it was to fall. In this way, you came to
understand and embrace our humanity, which falls constantly. Sin distances us
from one another, yet your sinless existence brings you close to every sinner,
even amid their falls. And this invites them to conversion. That is a scandal
for all those who keep their distance from others and even from themselves. It
is a scandal for those who lead a double life, between what they should be and
what they really are. Before your mercy, Jesus, all hypocrisy falls away. Our
masks, our elegant veneers, are of no use. God sees into the heart. He loves
the heart. He warms the heart. And so it is that you lift me up and set me on
my way once more on paths yet untrodden, paths of boldness and generosity. Who
are you, Jesus, who forgives even sins? Fallen to the ground on the way of the
cross, you are the Saviour of this earth that we tread, this earth from which we
were made. Here, on this earth, you continue to shape us, like a skillful
potter.
Let us pray, saying: We are clay in your hands
| When it seems that nothing can change, remind us: |
|
We are clay in your
hands. |
| When conflicts seem interminable, remind us: |
|
We are clay in your
hands. |
| When technology tempts us to feel all-powerful, remind
us: |
|
We are clay in your
hands. |
| When prosperity estranges us from the earth, remind us: |
|
We are clay in your
hands. |
| When we are more concerned about appearances than the
heart, remind us: |
|
We are clay in your
hands. |
Tenth Station
Jesus is stripped of his garments
From the Book of Job (1:20-22)
Then Job arose, tore his robe, shaved his head, and fell on the ground and
worshiped. He said, “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I
return there; the Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of
the Lord.” In all this Job did not sin or charge God with wrongdoing.
You do not remove your robe, it is stripped from you. The difference is clear
to all of us, Jesus. Only one who loves us can see our nakedness and make it
his own. We, on the other hand, are fearful of the eyes of those who do not
know us, who are concerned only to possess us. Stripped naked, exposed to the
view of all, you change even humiliation into intimacy. You want to reveal
yourself completely even to those who kill you; you look upon those who strip
you of everything as loved ones given to you by the Father. There is something
greater here than the patience of Job, greater even than his faith. You are the
Bridegroom who lets himself be taken and touched, who turns everything to good.
You leave us your garments, like relics of a consummated love. They are now in
our hands, a sign that you were with us, in our midst. We have kept your
garments and now we cast lots for them, but the winner, here, is not just one,
but all. You know each of us singly, so as to save us together: all of us, each
and every one. And if the Church may appear today as a torn garment, teach us
how to weave anew the fabric of our fraternity, grounded in your gift. We are
your body, your seamless robe, your Bride. For so we are, all together. For
our lots have fallen on goodly places; we have a splendid heritage (cf. Ps
16:6).
Let us pray, saying: Grant peace and unity to your Church
| Lord Jesus, you see your disciples divided: |
|
Grant peace and unity to your Church |
| Lord Jesus, you bear the wounds of our history: |
|
Grant peace and unity to your Church |
| Lord Jesus, you know how frail is our love: |
|
Grant peace and unity to your Church |
| Lord Jesus, you wish us to be members of your body: |
|
Grant peace and unity to your Church |
| Lord Jesus, you are enrobed in mercy: |
|
Grant peace and unity to your Church |
Eleventh Station
Jesus is nailed to the cross
From the Gospel according to Luke (23:32-34)
Two others also, who were criminals, were led away to be put to death with him.
When they came to the place that is called The Skull, they crucified Jesus there
with the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. Then Jesus said,
“Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.”
Nothing frightens us more than being unable to move. Yet here you are, bound,
nailed, held fast. Still, you are not alone, but in the company of two others,
resolved to reveal yourself even on the cross as “God with us.” Revelation
never stops; it is not nailed to one place. Lord, you show us that in every
situation there is a choice to be made. That is the amazing reality of our
freedom. Not even on the cross are you stripped of your freedom: you decide why
and for whom you are there. You are attentive to both the men crucified with
you: you let slip the insults of one and you hear the plea of the other. You
are even concerned for the men who crucify you: you peer into the hearts of
those who “know not what they do.” You look up to the sky: you would like it
clearer, yet you break through its barrier of gloom with the light of your
intercession. Nailed to the cross you intercede: you “stand between”
conflicting parties. And you bring them to God, because your cross tears down
walls, cancels debts, quashes judgements, establishes reconciliation. You
yourself are the true Jubilee. Convert us to you, Jesus; though nailed fast to
the cross, you are able to do all things.
Let us pray, saying: Teach us to love
| When we are strong and when we are not: |
|
Teach us to love. |
| When we are bound by unjust laws or decisions: |
|
Teach us to love. |
| When we are at odds with those uninterested in truth and justice: |
|
Teach us to love. |
| When we are tempted to despair: |
|
Teach us to love. |
| When everyone says, “There is nothing to be done:” |
|
Teach us to love. |
Twelfth Station
Jesus dies on the cross
From the Gospel according to Luke (23:45-49)
The sun’s light failed; and the curtain of the temple was torn in two. Then
Jesus, crying with a loud voice, said, “Father, into your hands I commend my
spirit.” Having said this, he breathed his last. When the centurion saw what
had taken place, he praised God and said, “Certainly this man was innocent.”
And when all the crowds who had gathered there for this spectacle saw what had
taken place, they returned home, beating their breasts. But all his
acquaintances, including the women who had followed him from Galilee, stood at a
distance, watching these things.
Where do we stand on Calvary? Beneath the cross? Somewhere nearby? At a safe
distance? Or perhaps, like the apostles, no longer even there. You breathe
your last, and this breath, both last and first, asks only to be received. Lord
Jesus, direct our paths towards this, your gift. Do not allow your breath of
life to be dispersed. Our darkness seeks light. Our temples want to remain
ever open. Now the Holy One is no longer beyond the veil: his mystery is
revealed to all. It is perceived by a soldier, who, watching you die,
recognizes a new kind of power. The crowd that had cried out against you
understands it: formerly distant, they now encounter the spectacle of an
unprecedented love, a beauty that revives faith. To those who watch you die,
Lord, you give an opportunity to repent, to return to you, and to beat our
breast in order to shatter our hardness of heart. Jesus, grant that we, who all
too often regard you from a distance, may always be mindful of you, so that when
at last you come, death itself may find us alive.
Let us pray, saying: Holy Spirit, come!
| We have kept our distance from the Lord’s wounds: |
|
Holy Spirit, come! |
| We have turned away from our brothers and sisters in need: |
|
Holy Spirit, come! |
| We have regarded the merciful and the poor in spirit as
losers: |
|
Holy Spirit, come! |
| Believers and non-believers stand before your cross: |
|
Holy Spirit, come! |
| The whole world yearns for a new beginning: |
|
Holy Spirit, come! |
Thirteenth Station
Jesus is taken down from the cross
From the Gospel according to Luke (23:50-53)
Now there was a good and righteous man named Joseph, who, though a member of the
council, had not agreed to their plan and action. He came from the Jewish town
of Arimathea, and he was waiting expectantly for the kingdom of God. This man
went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. Then he took it down, wrapped
it in a linen cloth, and laid it in a rock-hewn tomb where no one had ever been
laid.
Your body is now, at last, in the hands of a good and righteous man. You are
shrouded in the sleep of death, Jesus, but a vibrant, generous heart has now
chosen to stand by you. Joseph was not one of those who talk but then fail to
act. “He had not agreed to their plan and action,” the Gospel tells us. And
this is good news: someone who chose not to care for the opinion of others now
cares for you, Jesus. You are cared for by someone who is concerned to do what
he considers right. You are now in the hands of Joseph of Arimathea, one who
“was waiting expectantly for the kingdom of God.” You are now in the hands of
someone who continues to hope, one of those who refuse to think that injustice
always prevails. You break the bonds of the inevitable, Jesus. You challenge
the mindsets that devastate the earth, our common home, and human solidarity.
You grant to those who “wait expectantly” for your kingdom the courage to speak
to power: like Moses before Pharaoh, like Joseph of Arimathea before Pilate.
You embolden us to take on great tasks. In this way, even in death, you
continue to reign. For us, Jesus, to serve you is itself to reign.
Let us pray, saying: To serve you is to reign
| When we feed the hungry: |
|
To serve you is to reign. |
| When we give drink to the thirsty: |
|
To serve you is to reign. |
| When we clothe the naked: |
|
To serve you is to reign. |
| When we welcome the stranger: |
|
To serve you is to reign. |
| When we visit the sick: |
|
To serve you is to reign. |
| When we visit prisoners: |
|
To serve you is to reign. |
| When we bury the dead: |
|
To serve you is to reign. |
Fourteenth Station
Jesus is laid in the tomb
From the Gospel according to Luke (23:53-56)
[Joseph of Arimathea] wrapped [the body of Jesus] in a linen cloth, and laid it
in a rock-hewn tomb where no one had ever been laid. It was the day of
Preparation, and the Sabbath was beginning. The women who had come with him
from Galilee followed, and they saw the tomb and how his body was laid. Then
they returned, and prepared spices and ointments. On the Sabbath, they rested
according to the commandment.
In a world of hectic activity, Jesus, you now experience your Sabbath. The
women experience it too; their spices and ointments seem already to prefigure
the resurrection. Teach us how to do nothing at those times when it is asked of
us only to wait. Teach us sensitivity to the seasons of the earth, which are
not those of our making. Laid in the tomb, Lord Jesus, you share in our common
human condition, descending to the depths that so terrify us. You see how we
try to escape them by keeping desperately busy. Often we end up merely going
around in circles, but then the light of the Sabbath shines forth: it teaches
us; it tells us of our need to rest. To experience a godly life, life on a
truly human scale, a life that knows the peace of the Sabbath. This is what the
prophet Micah foretold: “They shall all sit under their own vines and under
their own fig trees, and no one shall make them afraid” (Mic 4:4). So
too, Zechariah tells us: “On that day, says the Lord of hosts, you shall invite
each other to come under your vine and fig tree” (Zech 3:10). Lord
Jesus, who seem to sleep amid the tempests of this world, bring us all into the
peace of the Sabbath rest. Then we shall see creation in all its beauty and
goodness, destined for resurrection. Then there will be peace for your people
and peace among the nations.
Let us pray, saying: May your peace come!
| For earth, air and water: |
|
May your
peace come! |
| For the just and the unjust alike: |
|
May your
peace come! |
| For those who are overlooked and voiceless: |
|
May your
peace come! |
| For the powerless and the poor: |
|
May your
peace come! |
| For those who await a springtime of justice: |
|
May your
peace come! |
Concluding Reflections and Prayer
“‘Laudato sì, mi’ Signore’ — ‘Praise be to you, my Lord.’ In the words
of this beautiful canticle, Saint Francis of Assisi reminds us that our common
home is like a sister... This sister now cries out to us because of the harm we
have inflicted on her” (Encyclical Letter
Laudato Si’, 1-2).
“‘Fratelli tutti.’ With these words, Saint Francis addressed his
brothers and sisters and proposed to them a way of life marked by the flavour of
the Gospel” (Encyclical Letter
Fratelli Tutti, 1).
“‘He loved us, Saint Paul says of Christ... in order to make us realize that
nothing can ever ‘separate us’ from that love” (Encyclical Letter
Dilexit Nos,
1).
We have walked the Stations of the Cross. We have turned towards the love from
which nothing can ever separate us. Now, as the King sleeps and a great silence
descends upon all the earth, let us pray, in the words of Saint Francis, for the
gift of heartfelt conversion:
Most High and glorious God,
Cast your light into the darkness of my heart.
Grant me right faith,
firm hope,
perfect charity,
and profound humility.
Grant me, Lord, wisdom and understanding,
so that I may do your true and holy will. Amen.
