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

Ram

God put Abraham to the test.
He called to him, “Abraham!”
“Here I am!” he replied.
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 22:1-18

From our first taste in Eden,
we've feasted on our strife
'til sin consumes our children—
as Cain took Abel's life.

And long we've tried to barter
or bargain, blood for blood,
to soothe the brokenhearted—
God drowned our tears in flood.

Not even losing Isaac
could heal the brutal rift
or Hagar sent to exile
and Ishmael cut adrift.

No sacrifice we offered
could ever clear our debt—
It was already all yours,
no matter how we bled.

Yet now the Son of David
steps in for Adam's sons.
For Esau and for Jacob,
you offered up your own.

The Son of Man, God-with-us,
will go to Calvary.
The ram within the thicket
sets all the children free.

From a 14th-century Icelandic manuscript of Stjórn By Unknown author – From the 14th century Icelandic manuscript AM 277 fol., now in the care of the Árni Magnússon Institute in Iceland., Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=17700394

The 3rd Station: Jesus Falls the First Time

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

You fall beneath the weight,
your face pressed down in dirt,
as great a fall as on the day
you leapt from heav'n to earth

or as the day we fell
from perfect Eden's height,
the shock knit into every cell:
All fallen, all to die.

Yet you have taken on
the failing of our flesh,
the weight that has you crawling down
the long road to your death.

When half-spent was the night,
you crossed the great abyss,
and by the breaking of your light,
we now may witness this:

The godhead from on high
in mortal torment roiled,
a worm, like any, doomed to die,
ground down into the soil.

But it was always thus: 
God's hands sunk deep in clay
to shape creation from the dust—
so it shall be remade.

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

Theophile Lybaert – Jesus falls the first time – http://balat.kikirpa.be/photo.php?path=KM008920&objnr=111806&lang=en-GB&nr=15, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=69788392

The 2nd Station: Jesus Accepts the Cross

II. Jesus Accepts the Cross

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

For our sakes, the son is offered;
Unto us a child was born,
government upon his shoulder,
on his head a crown of thorn.

This was meant from the beginning,
this acceptance of his death.
This the glory of his winning,
carried to his final breath.

Thus he takes the weight laid on him:
all the sorrows of the world,
all the woundings we had chosen,
all creation bruised and torn.

See the strength of God perfected
in the weakness of the Christ,
prince of peace we have rejected,
spotless lamb now sacrificed.

Now he bows in his acceptance
of the weight that had been ours.
With the meek, he, too, is blessèd;
now the kingdom shall be theirs.

For the reign of God is mercy;
for his government is love,
rivers flowing for the thirsty,
manna poured out from above.

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

By El Greco – [2], Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=12531415

Desert Hunger

The Spirit drove Jesus out into the desert,
and he remained in the desert for forty days,
tempted by Satan.
He was among wild beasts,
and the angels ministered to him.
Mark 1:12-15

You came up out of the water,
saw the holy dove come down,
heard the blessing of the Father:
Teach us how to hear that sound.
Draw us up out of the Jordan;
send us dripping to the waste.
As we sit there with our hunger,
send us manna, sweet to taste.

You were driven by the Spirit;
we're the servants of our need.
Jesus, help us not to fear it:
Bless the stones we have to eat.
We are driven; we are scheming;
we are shamed in our defeat.
Help us wrestle with the demons
in the shock of our retreat.

Lord, we want to sit beside you,
forty nights and forty days.
As the tempter came to find you,
come and find us when we stray.
We are hungry; we are thirsty;
we are wounded in our souls.
Flood the desert with your mercy:
Fill us up and make us whole.

Christ in the Wilderness by Ivan Kramskoy, 1872 – Google Cultural Center, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=38344996

The 1st Station: Jesus Is Condemned

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

“Behold the man!” So Pilate cries;
we turn and lift our jaded eyes
to look upon our king
now crowned with thorn, condemned to die.
We hail him, shouting, “Crucify
the maker of all things!

“No king but Caesar will we have,
no heaven but an open grave.
Barabbas shall go free!”
The ancient yoke we have cast off:
Christ bows his head to show his love.
The Pasch he shall complete.

He goes as prophets had foretold,
the road before him from of old.
He goes, the Great Amen.
And we, the lambs his arm enfolds,
the people that his might upholds,
will wash our hands again.

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

By Antonio Ciseri – http://www.most-famous-paintings.org/Ecce-Homo-large.html, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10356430 By Antonio Ciseri – http://www.most-famous-paintings.org/Ecce-Homo-large.html, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10356430

Rend Your Hearts

Year after year my heart I've rent;
day after day again.
Relent, O God! Will you relent?
I wither until then.

How can this heart of stone still feel?
For look: It bleeds like flesh.
Can you restore?  Can you yet heal
what rushes on toward death?

But if you can, then heal my heart,
you who have seen its wounds.
Make me unstained as at my start,
who make the lepers new.

Wash me with hyssop, purging me;
pour rivers through my soul.
If you will cleanse me, I am clean—
Let Jordan's waters roll.

And when in silence I am come,
finding that farther shore,
finish the work you have begun.
Bring stone to life once more!

For now I make my whispered plea
amid the dust and noise:
Renew the heart that beats in me!
Give back salvation's joys!

Auchencar standing stone with farm in background By © User:Colin / Wikimedia Commons, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=26698896

Ash Wednesday

Now is the desert yawning

where you have led our steps;

now is the dim-lit dawning

showing the days far-spent.



Oh, could I tear my garments,

could some repentance show!

How can I rend what's hardened?

How can I mend this stone?



Teach me to count the moments,

each one a fading breath:

Finite I then shall know them,

reckon the days 'til death.



Visit me, Lord, in secret.

Though my left hand is blind,

all of my sins, you see them:

See where I would go right.



Teach me to know me guilty;

show me my hidden schemes.

Wash me then with your hyssop;

clease me, and I am clean.



Bring me through fire and water,

long though the road may be.

Make us a way, O Father:

Make all our stone hearts beat.

More details

Ash Wednesday by Carl Spitzweg: the end of Carnival

By Carl Spitzweg – The Yorck Project (2002) 10.000 Meisterwerke der Malerei (DVD-ROM), distributed by DIRECTMEDIA Publishing GmbH. ISBN: 3936122202., Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=159077

Judases

For Good Friday:

I dipped my hand into the dish
and took the bread you gave.
I pledged my faith to you in this,
and still I turned away.

I took your name upon my tongue
and knew it was divine.
I meant to make it ceaseless song,
then spilled it like sour wine.

But now your bread to acid turns;
my silver coins corrode;
the very bones within me burn:
I must pay what is owed.

They say that alms atone for sin,
but coins will not suffice.
O Master, may I mercy win?
Is there some sacrifice?

And if there is no grace for me,
if I must melt like wax
let pity drown me in its deeps:
Oblivion I ask.

Have mercy on the treacherous,
if such a thing can be.
If there's no hope for Judases,
then there is none for me.

Das Gewissen von Nikolai Nikolajewitsch Ge (1891) By Nikolai Ge – The Yorck Project (2002) 10.000 Meisterwerke der Malerei (DVD-ROM), distributed by DIRECTMEDIA Publishing GmbH. ISBN: 3936122202., Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=151431

End

For Good Friday:

The kiss that is love's mockery;
men in a garden, armed;
the night-crow of the cockerel;
the rending of the heart:

The road that starts from Eden
and opens up the sea
to still the heart's red beating
will end on Calvary.

And we will stand there watching,
full drunk on our own tears,
while “Lema sabachthani?”
falls only on deaf ears.

The sky has turned to midnight
while yet the sun's at noon,
and mothers swaddle infants
to lay them in the tomb,

for life itself is dying
and light itself burns out.
The Word of God is silenced,
and oh, the stones cry out!

Icon of the Crucifixion, 16th century, by Theophanes the Cretan (Stavronikita Monastery, Mount Athos) By Theophanes the Cretan – Holy Monastery of Stavronikita, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1288231