What sort of places are stations anyway? Stations of the cross...why stations? Stations are places where we stop, pause and wait for something to happen, or for someone to arrive. Perhaps that is why these are stations - we are waiting for God to speak, to arrive, and for something to happen. A lot of prayer seems to me to be about waiting, listening, hoping. Maybe it is like being at a station.
Even on a crowded station there is a sense of being with others, but alone. We take a step back to think - where am I going? Everyone is on a journey and we are all going in the same direction. Where we came from is different; our reasons for traveling are different - sometimes full of joy, sometimes sorrow and suffering - always hope, God will arrive.
I travel to London after school once or twice a week, and for me stations can be quite frightening. They are places where you can be called to witness something - someone drunk, and argument, someone crying. It is always difficult to know what to do, it can be threatening. Do I just watch and witness? Look away? Intervene? The suffering of those closer to us can be equally challenging and pose the same questions, but mostly all people need is to know that you are there, present, walking with them.
The women in this picture are waiting for something: justice, peace, mercy, compassion. Jesus speaks to them. He is present to them, they walk with Him, he walks with them: waiting for something to happen, waiting for God to arrive and for God-with-us to make himself known once more.
My Jesus, laden with sorrows, I weep for the sins I have committed against you because of the punishment I deserve for them; and, still more, because of the displeasure that have caused you who have loved me with an infinite love.
What sort of places are stations anyway? Stations of the cross...why stations? Stations are places where we stop, pause and wait for something to happen, or for someone to arrive. Perhaps that is why these are stations - we are waiting for God to speak, to arrive, and for something to happen. A lot of prayer seems to me to be about waiting, listening, hoping. Maybe it is like being at a station.
There is something about this picture that speaks to me of repentance. In a way, this is the moment of Christ's passion addressed to me. So much of what takes place occurs in masculine society, the courts of the Sanhedrin and Pilate from which women were forbidden, the courtyards of soldiers where women would rather not be seen. But here, in the street, women are not only witnesses, their mourning makes them involved. 'Weep not for me', says Jesus, 'weep for yourselves, and for your children'. There is in the same sentence a deep need for conversion, turning back to God, and a responsibility for the next generation, the children.
My most gentle Jesus,
