We never walk this way alone

Today is Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion. In churches all over the world, Catholic and Protestant alike, the accounts of Jesus’ triumphant entrance into Jerusalem and His Passion will be read.

In Catholic churches, blessed palms are handed out to people before Mass so parishioners can wave them during processions around the church, shouting; “Hosanna, to the King of Kings!” Then the Passion of Christ, as recorded in the gospels is read in a narrative form, with parts for the readers and the congregation.

The same congregation that was waving palm branches and singing the praises of the Lord then responds, “Crucify him!” I don’t like taking the parts of the fair-weather friend or the intimate disciple of the Lord who abandons him in his walk to Calvary.

But if I am honest with myself and others, there are many ways in which I turn away and reject the Lord in my fears and worries and in my unkind actions towards others. Fear and worry turns the focus on me and exhibits a lack of trust in the Lord. Unkindness towards others wounds not only my relationships with those around me but also my relationship with the Lord. Jesus said, “Whatsoever you do to the least of these brothers and sisters, you do unto me.” (Matthew 25:40)

Reflecting on the Passion of Christ is a good practice for anyone who wants to grow in a deeper appreciation of the gift of redemption. We can read accounts of Christ’s Passion in each of the gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. Each of these gospels offers a slightly different perspective of Jesus and a depiction of the Passion.

Many churches do dramatizations of the Passion, which adds another dimension to the reflection. Every Catholic church offers depictions of the Stations of the Cross within the church or on its surrounding properties.

There are also devotionals to help you pray the Stations of the Cross. This one is a scriptural account of the Passion which I find very helpful to help me pray the Stations of the Cross.

The reading of the scriptural accounts and the recitations of the prayers are all good ways to deepen our appreciation of the gift of Christ’s redemption. But to really comprehend the gift of Christ’s death, we need a personal experience of His Passion. I realize this may sound kind of strange to some people, but the way of the cross is relatable to any human being — even for an atheist. From purely a human level, anyone who has experienced suffering and death in their lifetime can relate to the Passion of Christ.

Meditating on the Passion of Christ is hard because watching anyone suffer is hard. I’m a caregiver and like all caregivers, I care for a person who is suffering. It’s not easy to see our loved ones in pain. It’s exhausting, even when you see a greater purpose. The key to understanding the Passion of Christ is to embrace the Via Dolorosa — the Way of the Cross —in our own lives and walk with Jesus to Calvary.

For the past 30 years, my husband and I have taken our children on a pilgrimage every Good Friday — to the Shrine of Our Lady of the Island in Manorville. The Shrine has life-sized Stations of the Cross which follow an outside paved pathway through the wooded areas on the grounds.

I thought I had a pretty good appreciation — devotion even — to Christ’s Passion. But one Good Friday, about ten years ago, I walked the Via Dolorosa with Jesus’ mother, Mary, and that experience changed my view of Christ’s Passion forever because I saw it through a mother’s eyes.

This one Good Friday, I woke up exhausted but very happy to be in my own bed. It had been a rough couple of months, coinciding with Ash Wednesday and Lent. I didn’t give up much that Lent because I thought our weeks-long stay in the pediatric ICU was enough of a sacrifice and it gave me plenty of time to pray.

My daughter Johanna had had a series of surgeries in that time. She had been fighting a nasty infection in her brain. We had been placed in an isolation room because the doctors discovered Johanna had a bacteria that was resistant to one of the most powerful antibiotic drugs available.

It was a long haul. Around that time, one of the little warriors who battled similar brain issues for almost 10 years died in the PICU a few doors down from my daughter’s room. We prayed with them and said our tear-filled goodbyes the night before. After the little girl died, her parents asked me to come in to be with them. I knelt at the feet of this courageous mother, as she held the body of her deceased daughter in her arms — like a living image of the Pieta, Mary holding the body of Jesus at the foot of the cross.

Amidst the grief, there was a profound sense of peace. We all believed it was the end of this child’s suffering and a rebirth into a new life in heaven. The death of this child — and watching her mother grieve and hope — left an indelible mark on my heart that changed my life forever.

On the Good Friday following this long hospital stay I was thinking of my friend and of Mary, the mother of Jesus. I knew how hard it was for Mary to see her Son suffer. I approached that Good Friday pilgrimage differently that year, vividly aware of Mary’s sorrows.

As we walked each Station, my husband and kids took turns pushing Johanna in the wheelchair because she was too weak and unsteady to walk. I was keenly aware of the wounds of Christ as I looked down at the staples in my daughter’s head and I felt Mary, the mother of Jesus walking beside me.

Her pain was very real and her grief very apparent to me as we walked the way to Calvary. It made the sacrifice of Jesus so much more personal to me. At the Shrine, the Cross sits at the top of a very large incline of steps. That year, after spending Lent in the PICU, Johanna decided that she wanted to walk up those steps to stand at the foot of the Cross.

We helped Johanna up the steps, moving slowly at her pace. When we got to the foot of the Cross, I held Johanna so she could look up at Jesus and touch His feet and say a prayer. But my eyes were focused on Mary at the foot of the cross. I knew in my heart I understood her sorrows and she knew mine.

If you have never pondered the Via Dolorosa, I invite you to find some time this week to read the scriptures and pray with the Passion. Take a walk around a local Stations of the Cross and try to observe the 12 to 3 p.m. hours on this Good Friday. I promise you will find yourself on the Way, whether as a jeering passerby or a friend who struggles to stay at Jesus’ side. Maybe you’ll relate to Simon of Cyrene who helped Jesus carry the cross or to the women who wept along the way or the good thief who received the promise of heaven on his cross.

This Good Friday, we will take Johanna with us to the Shrine. The scars on the front and back of her head will just be scabbing over from her most recent brain surgery a week ago. We will push her in the wheelchair and if she wants to walk up those steps we will do that too. I’ll keep my eyes on my daughter, but my in my heart and mind I will ponder Mary’s walk of sorrow as she suffered alongside her Son. Mother to mother, I will wait with Mary at the foot of the Cross believing in the miracle of Easter.

Each one of us walks our own Via Dolorosa. When we find Christ and his mother, Mary there, we realize that we never walk this way alone.