Eyewitnesses to the Stations of the Cross: Part 2

CrossThis is the second in the series of reflections on the stations of the cross.

I began to wonder about the wide-range of emotion among those who experienced the stations of the cross first-hand. I wrote this version of the Stations of the Cross to reflect these conflicting feelings. It was originally set as a play and is out of my own imagination. It is not meant to be historically accurate. It is meant to put us into the events of that day, for Jesus’ Passion is our story, too.

Each day through Good Friday I will post another “eye-witness” account. As you read, put yourself in the story and compare your own reactions, motivations, hopes and fears with the character’s. I invite you to reflect with me:


KNOW IT ALL
Prophet?  Sinner? Doesn’t make any difference to me. The problem with Jesus is He didn’t know when to keep His mouth shut.

Now me, I’ve never been a religious man but I’m smart enough to do what those hypocrite scribes and priests tell us to. They’re so high and mighty; tell us how we’re sinners and unworthy to come into the temple while they parade around as though they are any better. A brood of vipers! Jesus got description right!

Now Jesus, He’s a nice enough man and all. He seemed to care about others, trying to help them out. If only He did what the vipers told Him to do He wouldn’t be in this mess. And what did all His good works and teachings get him? A heavy-wooden cross on His back!

Here He comes now. Oh my, look at the cut marks from the scourging! I didn’t know a man could take a beating like that and still live! He looks like He will collapse at any minute! Just then, He did. Fell right to the ground right in front of me.

The Pharisees are yelling at Him to “get up and keep walking, blasphemer!” Like they could take half the punishment Jesus has and lift a finger!

JOHN THE DISCIPLE
I’ve always had a special place for Mary, Jesus mother, in my heart. Every time we would come back to Galilee, Mary would treat us as her own children, feeding us and asking all kinds of questions about us.

When she said to me, “John, please take me to see Him” how could I refuse? Like the other disciples I had no desire to be anywhere around this mob—they might decide to do the same to me! Though I feel such shame for even thinking such a thought while Jesus, my Rabbi, my Lord, my friend suffers so…

We worked our way as close to the front as I could squeeze us in. The shouting became louder. The air was thick with hatred. The tears in Mother’s eyes just about tore my heart in two. Why did she want to be here? The pain is too great!

That’s when He saw her. It lasted a brief moment as the soldiers pushed Him to continue on this hellish journey. But the look said everything. Not a word was spoken, but nothing was left untold. She loves Him, and He loves her.

More than anything from that day, the look in their eyes at that moment will stay with me…

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