Station VI: Jesus Scourged and Crowned with Thorns

This still is taken from the film The Passion of the Christ, a film that divides opinion. Released seven years ago, it depicted the Passion with absolute realism. It moved away from the stained-glass window imagery of a clean man carrying a lolly-stick cross, to images of grotesque torture. Criticisms of the film surrounded the extent that its director, Mel Gibson, offered these scenes - though none of us can truly know the answer to that.

The process of the torture of Jesus was chilling. It showed a Roman centurion scourging Jesus with a maniacal look of pleasure in his eyes as layers of cutaneous and subcutaneous tissue were ripped from the frame of the accused. Whilst I have never been tortured, I have always been struck by the glee on one hand or complete impassivity on the other of depictions of torturers. They either couldn't care less or derive cheap thrill from the pain being meted out on the bound creature in their grasp. 

This is a moment of particular significance for me. Whilst I gain no pleasure from re-enactments of needless violence, I am frustrated by the ways that actual events such as this are toned down in the interests of decency. Good Friday is not about a man receiving a stern reprimand, but about a frail tired man being torn apart square-inch by square inch. The main thrust of my sermon last Good Friday is that as Christians we have a duty to let this in, and not look away from events that might right cause us to be ill. Why? Because every nerve-shattering, flesh tearing, bone splintering cut into the flesh of Jesus was received out of love for us. This was the price. This. 

They struck his head with a reed, spat upon him, and knelt in homage to him [Mk 15: 19]

My prayer at this Station is for those who are subject to torture this day.

Lord Jesus, you faced the torment of barbaric punishment and mocking tongue:

be with those who cry out in physical agony and emotional distress.

You endured unbearable abuse:

be with those who face torture and mockery in our world today.

To you, Jesus, the King crowned with thorns,

be honour and glory with the Father and the Holy Spirit,

now and for ever. Amen

Station V: Jesus Judged by Pilate

And so we have this man Pontius Pilatus, the fifth Prefect of Judaea. Only very recently did it occur to me that after the person of Jesus of Nazareth and the Blessed Virgin Mary - that Pilate has the rather odd claim to fame of being the only other human named in any of the Christian creeds. No Apostles, no Mary Magdala, no Peter, no Caiaphas, no centurion, just this Roman middle-manager. 

For me, Pontius Pilate represents the leaders of the world. This otherwise little known Italian man who was reluctant to condemn Jesus has become the physical and historical hook for the entire Gospel account. Pilate contextualises the rest of what we see, hear and read. 

It is easy to paint this man as indecisive and weak, and perhaps rightly so - but only from the perspective as those never having been national leaders can we make that assessment. In church life, we deride our Archbishops, and in our national life our politicians. How easy it is to judge the judges when we are spared the great burdens that these individuals have been caused to carry. Were we placed into the shoes of this Roman Prefect, with the clamor of Jews and conspiracies of those around us - would we have save Jesus?

Pilate asked them, 'Why, what evil has he done?' But they shouted all the more, 'Crucify him!' [Mk 15: 14]

My prayer at this Station is for the leaders of the world and those who carry the burden of leading our nations. I pray for our decision makers; for wisdom and discernment

Lord Jesus, you were condemned to death for political expediency:

be with those who are imprisoned for the convenience of the powerful.

You were the victim of unbridled injustice:

change the minds and motivations of oppressors and exploiters to your

way of peace.

To you, Jesus, innocent though condemned,

be honour and glory with the Father and the Holy Spirit,

now and for ever. Amen

Station IV: Peter Denies Jesus

Caravaggio

"Do you love me", Jesus said to Peter, three times. Each time, his question was met with an unequivocal affirmation, wrapped in a barely concealed incredulity at the question. This Station brings to mind the moment in the Passion story when the most loved Apostle denies Jesus an equal three times, equal to his claims of love only a short time before. 

In many ways, I have less sympathy for Peter than I do for Judas. Judas, by virtue of his own calling, was instrumental to the progress and fulfillment of the prophecies - but Peter was, in many ways, set up for a pratt-fall. Jesus knew it, and was proved right. Joke on Peter. It could be argued that Peter's denials were self-preservative, but in the end add yet another layer of desolation to the burden carried by Jesus. In one account, we are told that Jesus heard Peter's words - and in Jesus's mind, there went the closest and most militant of his friends. It is hard to articulate, but I have pondered the implicit judgement on the Church as represented in the person of Peter. I wonder if in our petty politics, power-struggles and in-fighting, we deny Jesus by our actions. There will, of course, be much that can be said about this denial being a symbol of our weakness as human beings. In the end, what has to be acknowledged too is that Peter, the Rock upon which the Church is built, by his denial, ensured the birth of the Christian movement. Had he been bold, would it have been a different story?

"Before the cock crows twice, you will deny me three times" [Mk 14:72]

My prayer at this Station is for the Church across the world, that it may fix its eyes on the cross and not on its own aspirations for itself. I pray too for those torn by inner-conflict.

Lord Jesus, as Peter betrayed you,you experienced the double agony of love rejected and friendship denied:be with those who know no friends and are rejected by society.You understood the fear within Peter:help us to understand the anxieties of those who fear for their future.To you, Jesus, who gazed with sadness at your lost friend,be honour and glory with the Father and the Holy Spirit,now and for ever. Amen

Station III: Jesus Condemned by the Sanhedrin

Being condemned by our enemies is bad enough, but it is bearable because it is a part of that relationship. In truth, in the same circumstance, we would perhaps do the same. As we walk these Stations, we share not only in the physical moments of the journey to the cross, but we are invited to take in some of the emotional material too. We can never be Jesus, or even come close to knowing how he would have felt in these protracted hours. 

Being condemned or rejected by our own (be that our employer, our family, friends, church community, and so on ...) is the worst kind. I think that is to do with feeling safe among our friends and colleagues  - those who are supposed to share the same opinions to a greater or lesser extent. Being condemned by our own is altogether more unbearable because it not typically part of the relationship. Jesus being condemned by the occupying forces of the Roman Empire would have had far less significance than the eventual betray by the Great Council - the Sanhedrin. Jesus was a observant Jew, and the Sanhedrin the equivalent to his General Synod. To be condemned by Richard Hawkins would irk me, but to be condemned by my bishop or archbishop would cut all the more deeply. This station speaks of the depth of desolation that Jesus will have experienced. Forsaken by his Father, by one of his closest friends, and now his faith community - to the mocking jeers and taunts of the crowds - Jesus cannot have felt more alone,  abandoned by the ones he was called to save.

"All of them condemned him as deserving death" [Mk 14: 64]

At this Station, my prayer is for those people who have been condemned by their peers and their families; for those who feel utterly alone in this fast-moving information-overload age; for those who will lose their lives as a result of being mis-understood by those who should have known them best of all. 

Lord Jesus, you were the victim of religious bigotry:

be with those who are persecuted by small-minded authority.

You faced the condemnation of fearful hearts:

deepen the understanding of those who shut themselves off from the

experience and wisdom of others.

To you, Jesus, unjustly judged victim,

be honour and glory with the Father and the Holy Spirit,

now and for ever. Amen

Station II: Jesus Betrayed by Judas and Arrested

How easy it is, when someone does something to offend or upset, to take the moral high-ground and curse their very bones. Imagine the Passion without Judas Iscariot and you will envisage a story that never starts, the proverbial damp squib. The Last Supper would become just supper, the prayers in the Garden of Gethsemane would simply be reduced to 'and Jesus withdrew for a short time before...'. 

As a priest who believes that I am called to my Orders by God, I have a healthy respect for the sense of calling that all people have. The son of Simon Iscariot was called to be the Betrayer, and he met his calling well. I have always had a soft-spot for Judas, because there is much of his experience that mirrors Jesus's own. He was a man of faith, a man who loved Jesus. He will have given up just about everything to walk with him in faith, so his own agony of dilemma would have been terrible. Let us not forget too, that he is the other person in our Passion who makes the sacrifice of his own life to fulfill his own calling. 

Let us spare a thought for Jesus too. We all know how it feels to be betrayed by someone that we thought we trusted, that assault upon us by the last person that we ever expected. It is the most bitter pill to swallow - and I am willing to wager that in the midst of the scourges and whips, Jesus lamented amid his own searing agony - 'but of all people, Judas...'. Two men, both called, both destined to die for that calling, set in opposition one to the other. Jesus, reviled and scorned in the present; Judas to be scorned and reviled for the rest of time.

"Friend, do what you are here to do" [Mt 26:50]

My prayer at this Station is for those people who have little choice but to take actions that will see them condemned. I pray too for the outcast, the misunderstood, and for those who will take their own lives. 

Lord Jesus, you were betrayed by the kiss of a friend:

be with those who are betrayed and slandered and falsely accused.

You knew the experience of having your love

thrown back in your face for mere silver:

be with families which are torn apart by mistrust or temptation.

To you, Jesus, who offered your face to your betrayer,

be honour and glory with the Father and the Holy Spirit,

now and for ever. Amen

Station I: Jesus in Agony in the Garden of Gethsemane

The Garden of Gethsemane

Every once in a while we are put into the place of great dilemma. In my own life it has surrounded jobs to which to apply, choice of schools for kids, even what words for what prayers. In themselves they are big things to me, to others perhaps smaller. 

That whole sense of not knowing quite which way to turn, but all the while knowing that something has to happen is oddly dis-empowering. It brings with that sense of ones hand being forced, of helplessness. 

And so, at this first Station, this whole crushing dilemma. Jesus is human, knows something of the unspeakable atrocities that will be wrought on his finite body. I avoid pain wherever possible, and so do you. Jesus had the capacity, I am sure, to call the whole thing off. That would have been easier at one level, harder at another. Even the most noble and courageous person would struggle to place their arm in the meat-grinder, even sure in the knowledge that it was for the good of others. I doubt that the Romans had invented crucifixion for Jesus, and so he would have seen this means of execution with his own eyes. His physical being repels the idea, his spiritual knowing that it must be done. 

"Abba, Father, for you all things are possible; remove this cup from me; yet, not what I want, but what you want" [Mk 14: 36]

My prayer at this Station is for all those people who are crushed by the agony of dilemma, for those whose choices are choiceless, that whichever way the choice goes, people will know pain. 

Lord Jesus, you entered the garden of fear

and faced the agony of your impending death:

be with those who share that agony

and face death unwillingly this day.

You shared our fear and knew the weakness of our humanity:

give strength and hope to the dispirited and despairing.

To you, Jesus, who sweated blood,

be honour and glory with the Father and the Holy Spirit,

now and for ever. Amen

These Stations and the prayers that accompany them are taken from CW times and Seasons. The reflections and petitions are my own.

Sticky Liturgy

During a nimble browse through Blogdom yesterday, I picked up on a sentence typed by the excellent Labradoodle-loving Curate's Wife. She pondered, in passing, how odd all this holy Week stuff must be for kids, and how they might cope with the panoply of perpetuated praise.

I am, as you may have gathered, a liturgical kinda guy. I love the 'doing' of liturgy. There are likely to be many explanations for that, and why we all fall into ecclesial pigeon-holes when it comes to such stuff; but for me, it is all bound up in good liturgy. It might be to do with a slightly extrovert nature, a pragmatic style of learning, a tendency to see the world in image and not, say, in words or numbers. It will have a little to do with the 'nurture' argument too - though perhaps less, because I found my own way to liturgy. 

Another thing that is also true to say, is that liturgically minded Christians tend to 'do' Holy Week and the Triduum well. This week is, in many ways, a show-piece of living liturgy. And I can also say with absolute certainty that it was that aspect of worship that hooked me into faith. Most kids who have ever been near a church will be familiar with Palm Crosses, and in my experience, a good many will know what they represent. For me the most chilling, haunting, beautiful, stunning, affective liturgical moment is the desecration of the church after the catastrophic key-change in the Maundy Thursday Eucharist. We enter the church in white, we leave the church is disarray into a silence of vigil-prayer. We rip every thing beautiful from the place, leaving the altar naked, defiled. With the words of either Psalm 31 or 22 being intoned or read-gently while this stripping takes place, there is no moment in church life that more connects me with the agony of the Passion. And it was so for me as a child. Wide-eyed, dumbfounded, awe-struck - in every sense, a believer. 

I can illustrate my faith journey and maturation not in encounters with people, but in encounters with God through beautiful liturgy. I do not speak of professional-ceremonial though - liturgy and ceremonial, while very closely related, are not at all the same. Beautiful liturgy can happen in the midst of 250 kids all making noise together. The joy of liturgy is that it is, by definition, hands-on. Being caused to process, to wave palm-crosses, sit in drowsy vigil in the Garden of Repose, tear a church apart - all of things demand an action, a committed involvement.

In this post, I  also disclose my plans for the rest of Holy Week. As a personal devotion, and for use to you if you want it, I shall blog the Stations of The Cross all week. There are a few of them, so it will mean three or four posts a day. They are my prayers and thoughts - I offer them humbly, and ask that you do what you will with them.