The 9th Station: The Third Fall

We adore you, O Christ, and we bless you,
because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.

Get up.  This isn't over.
Get up.  You can't stay here.
Your way goes even lower,
down underneath all fear.

Not just to pain, but suff'ring.
Not just to death, but hell.
You are the perfect off'ring—
You can't stop where you fell.

Get up, O son of heaven.
Get up, O prince of peace.
The sentence has been given:
You have not been released.

For what did you begin this,
why drown here in the mud?
Not payment, but forgiveness,
all debts washed out in blood.

Get up: The end's before you.
Get up; You can't stay down.
The jaws of death wait for you,
the lost souls crying out.

Not darkness, but for mercy.
Not silence, but for peace.
Death's hungry, and death's thirsty,
and you are all the feast.

Holy God, Holy Mighty One, Holy Immortal One,
have mercy on us.

Calvary of Karl I of Austria and Station 9. Jesus falls the third time, Stations of the Cross. Made by Lőrinc Siklódy, Zsolt Hernádi (bronze casting), Zoltán Varga (conservator) in 2013 (originally 1927). Listed ID 16465. – Visszhang street, Tihany, Veszprém County, Hungary}}{{hu|1=Jézus harmadszor esik el a kereszttel . IV. Károly kálvária. Siklódy Lőrinc, Hernádi Zsolt (bronzöntő), Varga Zoltán (restaurátor) késztették 2013. (eredetileg: 1927). Műemlék azonosító [http://muemlekem.hu/muemlek?id=16465 16465]. – Magyarország, Veszprém megye, Tihany, Visszhang utca( az Óhegy déli lejtőjén){{Monument Hungary|16465}}

Photo By Globetrotter19 – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=47030507

The 8th Station: The Women

We adore you, O Christ, and we bless you,
because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.

The day will come, you say to us,
when we will bless the barren wombs,
command the mountains, “Cover us!”
and beg the hills to be our tombs.

The wood is green, but still it burns—
a stinging smoke that fills the sky—
two thousand years since then have turned.
The seasoned wood has gone bone dry.

Oh yes, we weep now for ourselves
and for our children yet to come.
We beg you to make all things well—
how can you heal what's long since done?

Reach out, O God in mortal flesh,
across millenia's abyss
to touch the passing of each breath.
My Christ, do not abandon us!

You go to break the chains of hell, 
to conquer death on Calvary. 
You go, and we will follow still:
Come with us into what shall be.

And when this dry wood meets the spark,
pour down the ancient flood once more—
not wrath, but mercy.  Drain your heart,
and rain on us forever, Lord.

Holy God, Holy Mighty One, Holy Immortal One,
have mercy on us.

Theophile Lybaert – Jesus meets the daughters of Jerusalem By Theophile Marie Francois Lybaert – http://balat.kikirpa.be/photo.php?path=KM008910&objnr=111806&lang=en-GB&nr=15, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=69789583

Lifted Up

Jesus said to Nicodemus:
“Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert,
so must the Son of Man be lifted up,
so that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life.
For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son,
so that everyone who believes in him might not perish
but might have eternal life.”
John 3:14-21

Late and early came the prophets,
calling us throughout the years.
Loudly came your word and often;
sullenly we stopped our ears.
Now your anger falls upon us;
now we taste the salt of tears.

Yet we know the night is passing:
Darkness falls before the dawn.
Sorrow is not everlasting,
though its years go on and on.
When the land has had its sabbaths,
then will all our tears be gone.

Anger will not last forever:
God will turn to us again.
Mercy will drop down from heaven,
fill our desert with its rain,
pardon seven times and seven,
joy for all our years of pain.

When will we behold that mercy?
When will you forgive us, Lord?
When the king becomes a servant,
robed in sorrow, crowned with thorn,
lifted up like Moses' serpent:
This is how you love the world.

The Brazen Serpent (watercolor circa 1896–1902 by James Tissot) – http://www.wcg.org/images/tissot/tissnake.jpg, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=7095651 x1952-201, The Brazen Serpent, Artist: Tissot, Photographer: John Parnell, Photo © The Jewish Museum, New York

Rain

I know but this one thing through all
I do or feel or see:
The sun will rise, the rain will fall,
God's grace pour down on me.

For on the unjust and the just
fall mercies without end,
and God, who knows that we are dust,
will pour them out again.

On bad and good he sends the rain,
for good and bad all thirst,
all weep in woe and wail in pain:
Storms find the best and worst.

As I am bad and good, rain falls,
as I am right and wrong.
The voice of God forever calls,
forever sings its song

to draw my evil nearer good,
to strengthen good the more,
and when I fail at what I should,
to heal what I deplore.

I cannot hoard what freely falls
or dam what flows so free.
God, pour it down alike on all,
that it may fall on me!

Raindrops falling on water Here comes rain again By Juni from Kyoto, Japan – Flickr, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=356231

The 7th Station: The Second Fall

We adore you, O Christ, and we bless you,
because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.

You saw Satan fall like lightning.
Was it like this when he fell,
hecklers jeering, crowds despising,
voices mocking him to hell?

Or did angels weep to see it
from the heavens that he'd left?
Were you, even then, in pity
plotting out your road to death?

Did you know that we would follow,
moths who die by candlelight?
You, the morning of tomorrow,
followed us into the night.

Now you lie in dust and ashes
with a cross upon your back.
Weakened by the thorns and lashes,
you collapse on Satan's track.

Yet the road is long before you—
though as brief as one man's life—
ere the hellgate opens for you,
swallowing you up in night.

Rise, O sun, for those in darkness.
Rise, for you are not done yet.
Rise for all the brokenhearted.
Rise and turn the day bloodred.

Holy God, Holy Mighty One, Holy Immortal One,
have mercy on us.

Droga Krzyżowa – III STACJA Pan Jezus upada pod krzyżem. Najmniejszy rysunek świata. Autor Wojtek Łuka 2021. Eksponat Muzeum Miniaturowej Sztuki Profesjonalnej Henryk Jan Dominiak w Tychach. By Muzeum Miniaturowej Sztuki Profesjonalnej Henryk Jan Dominiak w Tychach – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=110042338

The 6th Station: Veronica

We adore you, O Christ, and we bless you,
because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.

You could not take his pain away,
remove the burden from his back.
You could not change his cruel fate—
What good was this, your one small act?

To reach across the law's abyss
between the sanctioned and condemned,
to wipe away the sweat and grit
that stung his eyes, and comfort him?

Against the might of sin and Rome
to show him kindness in his shame:
In this you are forever known.
His image has become your name.

Veronica, how did you know
it was the face of God you touched?
Or did you reach just to show
an ordinary human love?

His sorrow not one jot the less,
his consolation one drop more:
That drop became a flood to bless
all those who see Christ at their door,

When every wound we bind is his
and every face shows us his own,
then we shall be his witnesses
and every inch of road his throne.

Holy God, Holy Mighty One, Holy Immortal One,
have mercy on us.

Christ carrying the cross By Derick Baegert – Web Gallery of Art: Image Info about artwork, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=85857907

Temple

Jesus went up to Jerusalem.
He found in the temple area those who sold oxen, sheep, and doves,
as well as the money changers seated there.
He made a whip out of cords
and drove them all out of the temple area, with the sheep and oxen,
and spilled the coins of the money changers
and overturned their tables,
and to those who sold doves he said,
“Take these out of here,
and stop making my Father’s house a marketplace.”
John 2:13-25

“Come,” you say; “remove your sandals:
Here you stand on holy ground.”
Here, where every flock has trampled?
Here, where all my deals go down?

Here within your tabernacle
I have built my marketplace,
paved it o'er with dimes and nickels,
veiled the image of your face.

I have feasted in your temple—
your own dwelling, set apart—
gorged myself before my idols.
Purge the altar in my heart.

Turn away the grinning merchants;
claim the dreams they count in coins.
Then forgive how I have worshipped
at the table of their joys.

Drive away the sheep and cattle
shod in silver, hormed in gold,
easy off'rings, prayers I prattle,
grace and blessing bought and sold.

Cleanse my heart to be your dwelling
where you only are adored.
Then, when time destroys this temple,
raise it up again, O Lord.

11th century unknown painters – Gospelbook of Matilda – The Cleansing of the Temple – WGA15960 By Unknown Miniaturist, Italian (active late 11th century) – Web Gallery of Art: Image Info about artwork, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=15884839

The 5th Station: Simon of Cyrene

We adore you, O Christ, and we bless you,
because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.

The cross is just a cross:
Its splintered beams don't care
who walks beneath the weight of loss,
dragged in and forced to bear.

One tree held life and death,
the next held bad and good:
The same weight burdened every length
of branch and trunk and root.

That knowledge burdens us:
Beneath it, we all cry,
O God, have mercy on this dust,
for we are born to die!

This is his mercy, this:
The weight's not lifted up.
You come with us to carry it,
to drain our sorrow's cup.

The ancient burden's ours,
the ancient sorrow, too.
Though Simon bore it for an hour,
we all must walk with you.

For all of us the same,
the labor of dead wood:
to bear a thief or fleed a flame
or lift us up to God.

Holy God, Holy Mighty One, Holy Immortal One,
have mercy on us.

Christ Carrying the Cross, By Titian – Web Gallery of Art: Image Info about artwork, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=15501461

The 4th Station: Jesus Meets His Mother

We adore you, O Christ, and we bless you,
because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.

By the road her station keeping,
grasping at the chance of meeting,
Mary waits as Christ draws near.
What the heartbreak at her seeing,
what the words of hope or keening
does she whisper in his ear?

Shout, O Crowd: Let no one hear it,
none but they be forced to bear it,
what must pass between them now.
Mary, how long had you feared it,
with a heart that must be piercèd
by the swords that bring him down?

No more fear, no future worry:
All the prophet's words of warning
break upon you like the wave.
Jesus, whom you held and nurtured,
takes the steps that bear him forward,
closer, closer to the grave.

But a moment face to face here,
worlds of sorrow in their gazes:
Christ and Mary, one in grief.
Then once more the cross he raises,
turns away from her embraces,
turns once more to Calvary.

Holy God, Holy Mighty One, Holy Immortal One,
have mercy on us.

Chapel in 4th Station in Via Dolorosa, Jerusalem Photo By Anton 17 – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=28490897

Abraham’s Song

Then God said:
“Take your son Isaac, your only one, whom you love,
and go to the land of Moriah.
There you shall offer him up as a holocaust
on a height that I will point out to you.”
Genesis 22

What do I have that God has not provided?
What can I give that was not God's before?
What God demands is yet of his supplying:
I give it back, and so I praise the Lord.
And when you say that I must give you Isaac,
my holocaust was ever, always yours.

It is my heart I lay upon the altar;
it is my soul forwhich I hone the knife.
Above all else, myself I'd gladly offer.
Take me, O God: Make me the sacrifice.
I know you hear, so often as I call you;
hear me again, and spare my Isaac's life.

And yet I know—I know as none knows better—
that God who sees is not blind to the past.
I know too well that you will have your vengeance.
As Sodom fell, so I must fall at last.
Why will you wreak your justice on the sinless?
Spare him, O God, and let my die be cast!

For all the times that I have sinned against you
this is my pay—how could I turn again?
And if I turned, it still would not prevent you
from what you will.  O God, my God, relent!
Have mercy, Lord.  Give way, and we will bless you,
my son and I.  Ask not that he be spent!

What is this sound, this strange, arresting whisper?
What is this hope that rises in my soul?
Has mercy come to say I am forgiven?
What is this light my weeping eyes behold?
O Isaac, see: a ram within the thicket.
So we are saved!  So we shall be made whole.

Adi Holzer Werksverzeichnis 835 Abrahams Opfer By Adi Holzer, Attribution, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=16114440