The Longest Journey

Six years ago I had the blessing to be on an Ignatian silent retreat throughout Holy Week. It is a retreat that really changed the way I enter into the holiest of weeks each year. During one of the days, I sat reflecting on the Stations of the Cross and in the style of Ignatius, I pictured myself entering into the story.  As the story unfolded in my heart, I wrote everything down in my journal. Because each station was so personal, the sorrow of each station hit my heart in a way it never had before and with each stop along the path I could feel a deep ache inside. That is why as you journey along with my reflection the word *Crack* appears at the end of each station. 

I pray that you are able to picture yourself on the journey to Calvary as I was.  

May you have a blessed Holy Week and Easter Season.    

God Bless.  

As I sit in silence in the chapel, I begin to read through the Stations of the Cross.

I close my eyes and enter into the story as an outsider observing.

1. I find myself in a courtyard filled with people and I hear many angry voices yelling “Crucify him! Crucify him!”
   My eyes look up to see Pilot wash his hands and condemn the most innocent man to death. My heart begins to break.
   *Crack*
   
2. I make my way through the crowds, to get a closer look.
   I see now the wounds, the torn flesh, and the crown of thorns.
   I feel the pain inside.  You take the cross without a word and begin the final journey. My heart breaks again.
   *Crack*
   
3. Along the way, I see you fall for the first time. I want to rush to your side and help you, but I am not allowed. I cannot get to you.  Somehow you find the strength to get up and start again. Our eyes meet for just a moment.  In my heart you say “There will be times of weakness, and times you will fall, but you must not stay down. You must rise and keep moving. There is no shame in falling. It happens to everyone.”
   *Crack*
   
4. Not too long after you fall, I see a woman approach you.  It is your Mother, Mary. I can see the love in her eyes. Her heart breaks for you as your pain is her pain. A tear comes to my eye as I can relate to Mary. I may not have lost a son to death, but I have lost a son to adoption. At the time, the grief is unbearable, but the will of God must be fulfilled.
   *Crack *
   
5. The journey continues slowly onward. I fall a little behind as my mind is still consumed with thoughts of Mother Mary. There is a moment when you stop. I hurry to join the crowd to see what is happening. Who is that man who now carries your cross? I hear his name is Simon. As you begin to walk beside your cross, you look my way and again our eyes meet for just a moment and again you speak to my heart saying, “Never be ashamed to accept the help of others, nor be afraid to ask for help. Sometimes the burden is too heavy to carry alone.” My mind takes me back to a memory of a night I too carried a heavy wooden cross during a prayer vigil. The heavy cross beam weighed on my shoulder and I kept saying to you, “Lord, I don’t know how you carried this. Your cross was heavier and I have not been beaten.” Then I remember I did not carry that cross alone – someone was behind me carrying it as well. I may have lasted but five or so minutes, but the mark on my heart is permanent.
   *Crack*
6. Further along, a woman emerges from the crowd of onlookers. She offers you her veil and wipes your face. Her love for you is so clear. As I watch, I wonder how clear my love for you is seen by others. As you give the veil back and keep moving forward, I see Veronica open the veil to see your image left behind. A gift of you left in return for the gift she had given you. I may not have a veil with your image, but the image has been imprinted on my heart.
   *Crack*
   
7. We are over half way up the road to Calvary and it is almost like watching you in slow motion as again you fall under the weight of the wooden cross. I cringe each time the soldiers beat you to get you up. I feel so helpless, yet you somehow muster the strength to get back up and continue. At this point I do not know if I have the strength or courage to keep following you, but again I hear your voice in my heart, “Come, follow me”. I continue on the way.
   *Crack*
   
8. Up ahead I see a group of women gathered together weeping for you. I watch as you stop briefly to speak with them. This time feels different from the other times you stopped with your mother and with Veronica. I hear the words you say to them. “Do not weep for me, but for yourselves and for your children.” I wonder who these women are and what your words mean.
   *Crack*
   
9. As we ascend the top of Mount Calvary, the weight of the cross is now too much for you to carry any longer, and you fall beneath it one final time.  However, the cross did not beat you. I look back to the bottom of the mountain and see how far we have traveled. I see you lying there, exhausted, continuously beaten by the Roman soldiers, not deserving any bit of this, yet you remain silent. Our eyes meet briefly once again, and in my heart I hear “The road you travel will not always be smooth, straight, and easy to walk.  Sometimes the load may feel heavy as burdens weigh you down. Although you may feel weak at times, it is then that you must not despair. Find the strength to push through, and not give up. I will be with you to help you all along the way.” A tear comes to my eye and in my heart,
   *Crack*
   
10. All around me I hear people screaming, people crying, and I watch the soldiers strip you of your garments. I see the pain on your face as the wounds are reopened. Inside, I can feel the pain of my own wounds being torn open.   Wounds from my own sins, and wounds inflicted by others. I know this pain I feel is different from yours, but through this pain I understand the meaning of uniting my pain with yours. As I unite my pain, I feel another wound in my heart.
    *Crack*
    
11. I shield my eyes from what happens next as I cannot watch as the soldiers nail you to the cross. I hold my breath as the sound of a hammer hitting the nails echoes all around. It is a sound no one will ever forget. Chills keep running up and down my spine. As your hands and feet are pierced, so too is my heart.
    *Crack*
    
12. A moment later, I hear a loud thud, almost like a burst of thunder. I remove my hands from over my eyes and look up to see what that noise was. They have stood the cross up, and have left you hanging there to die. Day turns to night as dark clouds cover the sky. I can faintly hear some of the words you speak from the cross.  “Woman, behold your son; son behold your mother.” “I thirst.”  “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.” “It is finished.” I watch as your head falls down. I feel the wind pick up, the earth shakes and rain begins to fall. I hear the thunder roll across the sky, and people begin to sob.  As they pierce your side, blood and water flow out. I fall to my knees and cry uncontrollably.  In my heart I hear you say to me, “I did this for you. I did this for all humanity, for the forgiveness of sins. Do not weep, but trust you will see me again.”
    *Crack*
    
13. There is a moment where everything inside of me is telling me to come close and embrace you on the cross. As I stand and take a step, I stop as I see a man named Joseph with a ladder, linens and tools. I step back and watch as your body is removed from the cross and put into the waiting arms of your mother. She removes the thorny crown, fixes your tattered hair, and cries silently for her son. Out of respect, I stay back and just observe. Soon they wrap you in the cloth and begin to slowly carry you away. It is now that I am able to approach the empty cross and embrace it. I repent of all my sins and lay them here at the foot of your cross. My heart continues to break with sadness.
    *Crack*
    
14. After some time, I look down the mountain and can still see the group of people carrying your body. I walk swiftly to see where they are taking you.   As I catch up, I can see them at a tomb and they carry you inside. All I can see from the outside is the light shining from within from their lanterns. I can only imagine the scene from inside, and I begin to cry. I hide myself as they exit the tomb and roll a stone in front to seal it. As they walk away, I approach the tomb, put my hand on the stone and weep. I wipe the tears from my eyes, and see a dove sitting on the branch of a tree nearby. I smile and peace envelopes me as I know and I trust that I will indeed see you again. There is one last crack in my broken heart, but this one does not hurt as much as the others.
    *Crack*

As I again open my eyes, I find myself back in the chapel sitting in front of the tabernacle where my Lord is kept. I kneel, and with my head bowed down I whisper “Thank you, Jesus. I will never forget your love, this journey, nor these lessons. I love you.“