(From the Stations of the Cross at St. Paul's on the Green Episcopal Church, Norwalk, CT, by Gwyneth Leech)
Tenth Station: Jesus is Stripped of His Garments
Leader: O holy Christ, we worship you, we adore you;
People: They divided your clothing amongst them by casting lots.
As they reached Golgotha, Jesus was offered vinegar mixed with gall, and he refused it. Some sources say that this was offered him to subdue him, as most people fought being nailed to the cross with the last ounces of their strength. Other sources of ancient commentary postulate it was a poison, designed to help speed his death and avoid the agony of death by crucifixion. Whatever its purpose, Jesus refused it.
Jesus had already been stripped of his freedom. He had been stripped of his strength. Now, as the approached the cross where he was to die, they stripped him of the last thing he possessed on this Earth--his garments. He was physically exposed, but in refusing the vinegar and gall, he had refused to be stripped of his mental state. He refused to be stripped of his ability to hear and speak to God. Even in his weakest, emptiest, most vulnerable moments, he did not give up his God-consciousness.
Leader: Although Jesus' meager garments were taken from him,
People: His tormentors could not separate him from his relationship with God.
Leader: Let us pray.
(a brief period of silence is observed.)
God, you are always present, and present in all things.
Keep us from stripping things from others that are dear to them.
Help us to feel your divine love always,
so that we have no need to strip others
of their dignity, of their hopes and dreams,
and of their self-worth.
Remind us that others can strip things from us,
but cannot strip us from your love and your presence.
Strengthen us to also resist the bitter cups
of vinegar and gall when they are offered to us,
and instead taste the sweet nectar of your kingdom on earth.
People: Amen.
Holy God,
Holy and Mighty,
Holy immortal one,
Have mercy on us.
(From mosaic Stations of the Cross, by Jim Krilich)
Ninth Station: Jesus Falls a Third Time
Leader: O holy Christ, we worship you, we adore you;
People: The air was thick with hopelessness and despair as you fell again.
By this time, Jesus was nearing Golgotha. A few scattered skulls and bleached, broken bones dotted the side of the road--all that remained of others crucified there, people whose families either did not care about their remains or could not afford to bury or entomb them. Various birds that feasted upon carrion perched on some of the bones and in the trees. As Jesus still grew physically weaker, the crowds started to diminish a little. The hubbub of the nosy and the curious was giving way to the reality of what was about to happen, and the taunts and jeers of the crowd were receding into a roaring silence. Perhaps it was the sight of the actual hill where he would be crucified that weakened Jesus' knees--but for whatever reason, he fell again.
As he lay in the dust, he could hear his own heart beating more rapidly in his ears, mixed with the murmurs of the onlookers...
"I wish he'd just die and spare himself all this."
"I don't care what he did, this is too much for anyone to bear. They've whipped him more than anyone I've ever seen crucified."
"I wanted to believe in his God, but how can I now, seeing this?"
Jesus lay there, feeling the dark edges of these fears stabbing him like knives. It was only to escape them that he could manage to rise up from the ground and keep walking.
Leader: As Jesus neared Golgotha,
People: He could feel the light of his own soul straining against the darkness.
Leader: Let us pray.
(a brief period of silence is observed.)
God of Light and Creation,
stay near to us when we feel overwhelmed by darkness.
When we are so overtaken by the cares of the world
that we feel ourselves falling,
put out your hand to us in the dark.
Let the touch of your hand open our eyes
to the light on the horizon,
and encourage us to put one foot in front of the other
and walk to it, no matter how hesitating our steps.
People: Amen.
Holy God,
Holy and Mighty,
Holy immortal one,
Have mercy on us.
(From the Stations of the Cross by David O'Connell)
Eighth Station: Jesus Meets the Women of Jerusalem
Leader: O holy Christ, we worship you, we adore you;
People: You comforted the women of Jerusalem who wept for you.
As Jesus continued on his path, some women of Jerusalem approached him, tears streaming down their faces. This man treated women differently than most men. To so many men in Jerusalem, they were invisible. They entered and left the temple almost unnoticed. They were often ignored by the priests. They were not allowed to carry the Torah, nor were they encouraged to learn to read it. Their husbands were allowed to divorce them for some of the most minor of transgressions, yet they were not allowed to initiate divorce, even if cruelty was involved. Many women had fewer rights than slaves. So these women often lived in fear--fear of abandonment, fear of rejection, fear of harsh treatment.
But this man Jesus was different. He spoke to women, Hebrew and Gentile alike, with true kindness. He was unafraid to touch them to heal them, even if they were unclean. They had heard of his power in healing the woman who hemorrhaged. To see him abused so severely broke their hearts. As they cried out to him in both sadness and gratitude, he tried to comfort them. "Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me," he said. "Weep for yourselves and your children." Would this world ever see another man like him?
Leader: The wailing of these women echoed through the street;
People: While Jesus silently prayed that their lives would change for the better.
Leader: Let us pray.
(a brief period of silence is observed.)
Almighty Creator,
Your Son's life empowered the women of Jerusalem.
We ask that women today are likewise empowered.
Open our eyes to see the plight of the widow,
the divorcee, the abused wife or girlfriend, and the single mother.
Grant them equal footing in the world's economy
and equity in matters of law.
Expand our powers of understanding
to aid in the empowerment of women
in countries where laws allow them to be beaten, mutilated, and killed
in the name of so-called "honor."
Make us unafraid to weep for them and their children.
People: Amen.
Holy God,
Holy and Mighty,
Holy immortal one,
Have mercy on us.
(From the Stations of the Cross at St. John the Baptist Church, Bennington, VT)
Seventh Station: Jesus Falls a Second Time
Leader: O holy Christ, we worship you, we adore you;
People: Even with Simon assisting you in your burden you weakened and fell again.
Although the burden of carrying his cross had been lifted from him, Jesus surely continued to weaken as he traveled the road to Golgotha. The sun rose higher in the sky and the temperature climbed. He was dehydrated and weak from loss of blood and body fluids. The crowds surely grew, and the way became narrower and narrower from the throngs of curious onlookers. The desire to stop--to rest--to simply lie down and not get up--must have been overpowering.
Once fallen, it is hard to imagine any shred of desire to want to rise again. The detail of soldiers assigned to accompany him very likely feared he would die before reaching his crucifixion site, and they also very likely feared punishment for themselves if he died before sentence was carried out. In many renditions of the Stations, Jesus is shown being cruelly whipped by one of his tormentors, often with a closed hand and with the butt of the whip wielded like a club. By this time they were probably beating him as much out of their own fear that they would be unable to fulfill the sentence as carried out, rather than beating him out of spite or to punish. Hurting others as a consequence of our own fear is as old as humankind itself.
Leader: As Jesus stumbled and fell again,
People: His tormentors began feeling themselves falling from the weight of their fears.
Leader: Let us pray.
(a brief period of silence is observed.)
Heavenly Father,
The physical falling of Jesus on the road to Golgotha
is a reminder of many falls that will happen today.
Someone in the world is falling from starvation and hunger.
Someone is falling from domestic abuse.
Someone is falling from a random act of violence.
Someone is falling because of their color, ethnicity, or sexual orientation.
But it doesn't end there.
The hands that touch them will not help them up, nor dust them off;
they will beat them further, because of fear.
Be with these people on this day, Lord
and speak to the hearts of both the tormented and the tormentor.
People: Amen.
Holy God,
Holy and Mighty,
Holy immortal one,
Have mercy on us.
(Photo of ancient fig tree from Think Hebrew)
Luke 13:1-9
At that very time there were some present who told him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. 2He asked them, “Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans? 3No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did. 4Or those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them—do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem? 5No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.”
6Then he told this parable: “A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard; and he came looking for fruit on it and found none. 7So he said to the gardener, ‘See here! For three years I have come looking for fruit on this fig tree, and still I find none. Cut it down! Why should it be wasting the soil?’ 8He replied, ‘Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put manure on it. 9If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.’”
The synoptic Gospels all have a "fig tree" story. Matthew and Mark have Jesus cursing the fig tree, and essentially the ultimate result being it withering. (Fig trees just can't handle the Jesus Glare.) But Luke's story becomes a parable about a gardener rather than a story about a rather capricious act performed by Jesus. Chances are, the Matthew/Mark versions have some degree of allegory in them anyway. Several scholars have pointed out that these stories occur in the week before Passover, as part of the prelude to the Passion, and that figs are not ripe that time of year in that region of the world anyway. In that light, Jesus wanting figs from a tree that is not in the season that bears them makes no sense. It is very likely that the fig tree symbolizes a larger entity--perhaps the temple, perhaps Israel, perhaps the priests who are in cahoots with Rome.
But the Luke story is unique in that the fig tree gets another chance. It gets a year of manure. Oh, how easy life would be if a little dung cured everything, right? That would make some parts of our lives a literal plant nursery!
My mind went to an odd place with this text this morning. I sometimes cringe at the trite bits of (mostly fundamental) Christianity on some people's status updates. Don't get me wrong--I like "faith based status updates" of all religious ilks--but I like the ones that challenge me, make me think. I try to do that myself. It's the ones that look like a Hallmark Card that bug me, or the ones that reduce God down to "The Cosmic Coke Machine" where you put your prayer quarters in, punch the button that says "Coke," and out comes a Coke, that irk me.
The one that gave me the urps today was when someone had alluded to something rough going on in their life, and one of their Facebook friends reminded them that "God doesn't give us what we can't handle."
Ugh. I just really want to slap the computer when people trot that one out.
God, I believe, does not have a need to entertain Himself by testing us with difficulty to "see how we'll do." I just don't buy it. In my mind, the crap that happens to all of us is simply part of original sin. My concept of original sin is that it is simply the knowledge of good and evil, and our awareness and pain that we know what suffering is, or what an "impossible choice" is, or what feeling what being separated from God somehow is like. Only a capricious, cruel, masochistic God would do such things. The pain of the world is simply "just there." It is what makes up the stuff of the world. Our relationship with God is not as a "no pain, no gain" fitness coach.
But back to how this fits into the fig tree. What happens to the fig tree, when it looks a little puny? The gardener and the owner give it one more chance. Something is put around it, that most of the time, we do not consider a desired substance--manure. Dung. Waste. What's left after we used up all the nutritional stuff in food. I've never met a single farm person that stepped in a cow pie and said, "Woo Hoo! I'm sure glad I stepped in THAT!"
Dung is basically not a good thing when we are talking about humans. It, at best, is a nuisance (as anyone with a plugged up toilet will tell you), and at worst, spreads pestilence and disease if you have too much of it piled up around you. But for plants, a little dung is a good thing. Plants thrive with a little manure spread around them. In the case of the fig tree, the manure is a form of hope. A revived fig tree will make figs, and figs ARE good for us. So in that sense, something bad for us, in another context, can eventually work to our good. But the "bad" has to break down a while. In the case of the manure, a fresh cow pie, sheep pellet, or donkey briquette is not useful at all, but dried up ones are. The waste has to age and morph a little.
This is the crux of, in my mind, how bad things work towards good. Yes, at the time they are happening to us, they are devastating, demoralizing, and frankly, hurt like hell. But time changes them. When they have been changed by time and the elements they become less toxic, and even if they don't directly contribute to our growth, have the potential to contribute to SOME kind of growth, and the result of that growth can touch me. I believe LOTS of things can be handed to me that "I can't handle." But I do not believe they are handed to me by God. They are handed to me by the simple brokenness of the world. I do believe, however, that given time and awareness, God can show me where the nutrients are in them.
(The Road to Calvary, Peter Paul Reubens, 1632)
Sixth Station: Veronica Wipes the Face of Jesus
Leader: O holy Christ, we worship you, we adore you;
People: A woman from the crowd gave you comfort while throngs could not.
We call her "Veronica," but in reality we don't know whether this woman is one woman or many. She is very likely an iconic figure because the story does not appear in manuscripts until the Middle Ages. Perhaps she represents all of us. While the world stood still, while people in the crowd were frozen and helpless, she stepped forward and offered the simplest of hospitality to Jesus--her veil, using it as a sweat rag. Legend has it that the outline of Jesus' holy face remained on her veil; the "vera icon," hence we named this woman Veronica. Whether this story is fact or legend, it is a reminder that when we have touched the face of Jesus, it will leave an indelible mark on our souls.
What a comfort Veronica's simple act must have been to Christ. How many times do we offer what we see as "simple hospitality," feeling it is "not enough," but to the recipient of this hospitality, it is a profound moment? As broken and in pain that Jesus must have felt, this simple act, representing other similar acts lost to the ravages of time, surely opened his heart to love. We are reminded by a single story of a woman offering her head covering to wipe Jesus' face, that in that crowd, someone--or several "someones"--nurtured him in his few remaining hours on earth.
Leader: Veronica had nothing to offer Jesus but the veil upon her head;
People: But how a simple square of cloth must have comforted him.
Leader: Let us pray.
(a brief period of silence is observed.)
O Lord God, King of the Universe,
Let the legend of your Son's image remaining on Veronica's veil
indelibly mark our own souls with the power of His face.
Create Veronica in each of us,
people who are unafraid to offer unvarnished hospitality,
people who fearlessly share our food, our clothing, our homes, and our lives.
We pray that in our simple acts of sharing all that we have with others,
We will see Your countenance in the faces of others,
and others will see it in our faces, as well.
People: Amen.
Holy God,
Holy and Mighty,
Holy immortal one,
Have mercy on us.
(From The Stations of the Cross, Duccio de Buonensegna, 1308-1311)
Fifth Station: The Cross is Laid on Simon of Cyrene
Leader: O holy Christ, we worship you, we adore you;
People: A stranger unwillingly came to your aid and his life was changed.
Simon of Cyrene was merely a bystander in that rough crowd. As Jesus struggled, the soldiers knew he would need aid carrying his cross. Their eyes scanned the crowd. Simon's eyes looked downward. "Please don't choose me," he thought. "I have nothing to do with this. I merely came in from the country for Passover. Please, Lord. Not me." But perhaps it was his unwilling posture that caught their eye, and they dragged him out to carry Jesus' cross.
As his eyes met those of Jesus, Simon could suddenly see the pain of a broken world in Christ's countenance. From the center of his battered face, unquenchable eyes shone. From that moment, Simon unquestionably carried Jesus' cross.
Leader: Simon of Cyrene had no cross of his own to take up
People: So instead he willingly bore the cross of another.
Leader: Let us pray.
(a brief period of silence is observed.)
Holy God,
You come to us when we do not want you to appear.
You ask us to carry the crosses of others
When we do not desire to even carry our own.
Grant us the courage to carry those crosses
even when we would rather someone else do it.
Grant us the ability to see the privilege in being chosen to serve others.
Fill our hardened hearts
with the ability to serve our God,
even when we are feeling unwilling and unworthy to serve you.
People: Amen.
Holy God,
Holy and Mighty,
Holy immortal one,
Have mercy on us.
