By Mary Morrell
Stations hold lessons of an interrupted life
“You wrote one of the most beautiful chapters in the history of mankind: you carried the cross of Another, you lifted the cross, and prevented it from crushing its victim. You restored dignity to us all, by reminding us that we become truly ourselves only when we stop thinking only about ourselves.”
— Archbishop Angelo Comastri, meditation on Simon, the Cyrene
Recently, after being asked to prepare a reflection on two Stations of the Cross, the fourth and fifth stations, I took a short trip to the local book store for some quiet time away and to look for inspiration for my assignment.
While I was perusing the bargain book shelves, a woman nearby, no longer conscious of the quiet surroundings, let out a yell, “Oh, My God!”
Thinking something was wrong, a few customers moved in her direction only to find her hugging someone tightly, both of them laughing and crying at the same time.
This was an encounter between long-lost friends, she explained to those nearby, and certainly something that only God could have arranged.
Inspiration comes in unexpected ways.
Mary meeting Jesus, and Simon the Cyrene carrying the Cross have always been particularly meaningful for me as Stations of the Cross because they are symbolic of relationships — and love can only be given and received within the bonds of a relationship. These two stations also reflect moments of encounter. For Mary, who heard the prophetic words of Simeon in the temple so long ago when he said, “And you yourself a sword shall pierce,” this was the final encounter — outside of the cross — with the living Christ who is her son. But for Simon, the Cyrene, it was, most likely, the first.
But whether first or last, these encounters would change the lives of both Mary and Simon forever.
And isn’t that what must happen to us during Lent, and especially as we meditate on the Stations of the Cross? We must ask ourselves, “How should these encounters with Christ transform our lives?” Or maybe more importantly, “Will we allow these encounters to be transformative?”
As a mother, when I saw the movie The Passion of The Christ, the most difficult scene for me to get through was when Mary met a bloodied and broken Jesus as he carried his cross. They spoke no words but looked into each other’s eyes with a love and understanding so profound that it left me breathless. And when, in those painful seconds, she recalled Jesus as a child, playing and falling, and her running to gather him up and take away the pain, I could barely watch the screen. It was too close to home. It forged in me a new empathy for Mary’s suffering as she faced the unthinkable — the crucifixion of her beloved son, and I had trouble stemming the tears.
I wonder if we can even imagine the profound love that must be experienced by anyone who looks directly into the eyes of Christ. For Mary, as mother, experiencing that love was a life-long gift, but for Simon the Cyrene, a stranger, it was something new.
Mary entered into a relationship with Jesus willingly when she first said yes to God, and certainly she is our model of how we should respond to God’s call for our lives. But, often, it is easier to empathize with Simon’s situation. He was “pressed into service” by the Romans, which didn’t necessarily mean he went kicking and screaming, but helping Jesus certainly wasn’t his idea. He was on his way home with his children when Jesus interrupted his life — and that is an interruption that forever changes things.
When Simon lifted that cross beam from Jesus’ back it is probable there was a brief moment when they looked into each other’s eyes. It would seem undeniable that the gratitude and compassion Jesus expressed toward Simon, even if only in a gaze, forever changed the path on which Simon walked, and that Simon continued to follow in the footsteps of Christ long after the cross was erected on Golgotha.
I believe that in taking up the cross of Christ and sharing the burden of his suffering, Jesus gave Simon the Grace of Faith. I believe that is our gift, too, when we allow Jesus to interrupt our lives and we embrace the suffering of the world as our own, because of Him.
*The attached/referenced article was originally published in The Catholic Spirit, the official newspaper of the Diocese of Metuchen, and is protected under U.S. and international copyright law