"In Prayer with Jesus on the Way of the Cross"
Pope Francis's Meditations on the Stations of the Cross
For the first time in his papacy, Francis wrote the meditations for the Stations of the Cross prayed at the Colosseum today, Good Friday.
I have learned and grown tremendously from Francis’s teaching documents, but I believe his strongest gift is as a homilist. So I had high expectations for these reflections. And I was not disappointed.
Below is an excerpt, you can find the full text of the mediations here: https://www.vatican.va/news_services/liturgy/2024/documents/ns_lit_doc_20240329_via-crucis-meditazioni_en.html
Introduction:
Lord Jesus, as we contemplate your cross, we realize that you sacrificed yourself completely for our sake. We now take this time to be with you. We want to spend it in closeness to you. On the way from Gethsemane to Calvary, you never stopped praying. In this Year of Prayer, we accompany you on your own journey of prayer.
From the Gospel according to Mark
They went to a place called Gethsemane… Jesus took with him Peter and James and John, and began to be distressed and agitated. He said to them, “Remain here and keep awake.” Going a little farther, he threw himself on the ground and prayed… “Abba, Father, for you all things are possible; remove this cup from me; yet not what I want but what you want.” He came and found them sleeping; and he said to Peter, “Could you not keep awake one hour?” (14:32-37).
Lord, you prepared for every day of your life with prayer, and now, in Gethsemane, you prepare for your Passover. Abba, Father, for you all things are possible, you say, for prayer is before all else dialogue and intimacy, yet at the same time struggle and supplication: Remove this cup from me! Prayer too is entrustment and offering: Yet not what I want, but what you want. In your prayer, you passed through the narrow door of our human suffering and experienced it fully. You were “distressed and agitated” (Mk 14:33), fearful in the face of death, crushed beneath the burden of our sin, and oppressed by untold grief. Yet in the midst of this struggle, you prayed “more earnestly” (Lk 22:44), and in this way turned your bitter anguish into a sacrifice of love.
Of us, you asked only one thing: to remain with you and to keep awake. You did not ask something impossible, but simply closeness. How many times, though, have I strayed far from you! How many times, like the disciples, rather than keeping awake, have I instead fallen asleep! How many times have I failed to find the time or the desire to pray, whether from weariness, distraction or dullness of mind and heart! Lord Jesus, say once more to me and to us, your Church: “Get up and pray” (Lk 22:46). Rouse us, Lord! Awaken our hearts from their lethargy, for today too – today above all – you count on our prayer.
First Station: Jesus is condemned to death
Then the high priest stood up before them and asked Jesus, “Have you no answer? What is it that they testify against you?” But he was silent and did not answer… Pilate again asked him, “Have you no answer? See how many charges they bring against you.” But Jesus made no further reply, so that Pilate was amazed (Mk 14:60-61; 15:4-5).
Jesus, you are life itself, and now you are sentenced to death. You are truth itself, and now you are falsely put on trial. Why don’t you protest? Why don’t you speak up and defend yourself? Why don’t you confound the learned and powerful, as you did so often and so well? Your reaction troubles us, Jesus: at the decisive moment, you choose not to speak; you remain silent. Because the more potent evil is, the more radical is your response. And that response is silence. Yet that silence is itself pregnant: it is prayer, meekness, forgiveness; it is a means of redeeming evil, a means of converting your passion into a sacrificial gift. Jesus, I realize how little I know you, for I find it hard to understand your silence. Amid the frantic pace of my life, my absorption with the things of this world, my struggle to keep up with others or my need to be at the centre of attention, I fail to find time to stop and be with you. To allow you, Word of the Father, ever silently at work, to act in my life. Jesus, I find your silence troubling. It makes me realize that prayer is not about lips that move, but a heart that listens, for to pray is to become open to your word, and to adore your presence.
Let us pray together and say: Speak to my heart, Jesus
You, who respond to evil with good, Speak to my heart, Jesus
You, who calm rage with meekness, Speak to my heart, Jesus
You, who detest gossip and complaints, Speak to my heart, Jesus
You, who peer into the depths of my heart, Speak to my heart, Jesus
You, who love me more than I do myself, Speak to my heart, Jesus
Second Station: Jesus carries his cross
He bore our sins in his body on the cross,
so that, free from sins,
we might live for righteousness;
by his wounds you have been healed (1 Pet 2:24).
Jesus, we too have our crosses to bear. At times, they are heavy indeed: illness, an accident, the death of a dear one, disappointment in love, a child gone astray, a lost job, a hurt that will not heal, a failed project, the frustration of yet another hope… Jesus, how do I pray in those situations? What am I to do when I feel crushed by life, heavy of heart, under pressure and lacking the strength to go on? Your answer is an invitation: “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest” (Mt 11:28). “Come to me”. Yet I take refuge in myself: I brood, I nurse my griefs, I wallow in negativity. Come to me. Saying this was not enough; you came to us and you took our cross upon your shoulders to lighten its weight. You want us to lay upon your shoulders all our problems and needs, because you want us to find freedom and love in you. Thank you, Jesus. I unite my cross to yours, I bring you my weariness and my cares, I cast upon you every burden of my heart.
Let us pray together and say: I come to you, Lord
With the story of my life, I come to you, Lord
With all my cares, I come to you, Lord
With all my frailty and shortcomings, I come to you, Lord
With all my fears, I come to you, Lord
With complete trust in your love for me, I come to you, Lord
Third Station: Jesus falls the first time
Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit (Jn 12:24).
Jesus, you have fallen. What are you thinking, how are you praying, prostrate in the dust? Above all, what gives you the strength to pick yourself up again? As you lie face-down on the ground, unable to see the sky above, I imagine you praying in your heart: Father, who art in heaven. The loving gaze of the Father is the source of your strength. At the same time, I imagine that, as you kiss the cold dry ground, you think of man, formed from the dust of the earth. You think of all of us whom you hold in your heart, and you repeat once again the words of your testament: “This is my body, which is given for you” (Lk 22:19). The Father’s love for you and your love for us: that love is the force that makes you get up and go forward. For those who love do not stay down but start over again; those who love do not tire, but keep going; those who love take wing and fly. Jesus, I keep asking you for many things, but there is only one thing that I need, and that is the ability to love. I will fall often in life, but with your love, I will be able to pick myself up and go forward, even as you did. For you know what it means to fall. Your life was a constant descent for our sake: from God to man, from man to slave, from slave to crucifixion and the tomb. Like the seed that falls to the ground and dies, you came down in order to lift us up from the earth and bring us to heaven. You, who raise us from the dust and give us new hope, grant me the strength to love and to begin anew.
Let us pray together and say: Jesus, give me the strength to love and begin anew
When I am overcome by disappointment, Jesus, give me the strength to love and begin anew
When I am weighed down by the judgements of others, Jesus, give me the strength to love and begin anew
When things go wrong and I lose my patience, Jesus, give me the strength to love and begin anew
When I feel that I cannot go on, Jesus, give me the strength to love and begin anew
When I fear that nothing will ever change, Jesus, give me the strength to love and begin anew
Fourth Station: Jesus meets his Mother
When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home (Jn 19:26-27).
Jesus, your disciples abandoned you, Judas betrayed you and Peter denied you. You are left alone with your cross. Yet your Mother is there for you. She needs no words, it is enough to look into her eyes that understand and share in your suffering. Jesus, in Mary’s eyes, bright with tears, you see mirrored the tender love, the warm caresses and the loving embrace that surrounded and sustained you from your earliest years. A mother’s eyes remind us too of all the goodness we have known. All of us need a mother to bring us into the world, but also to help us find our proper place in the world. You know this, and, from the cross, you give us your own Mother. Here is your Mother, you say to your disciple and to each of us. After the gift of the Eucharist, you gave us Mary as your final, parting gift. Jesus, on your journey you drew strength from the memory of her love; my journey too needs to be grounded in the memory of all the goodness I have known. Yet I realize how little room I make in my prayer for grateful remembrance. My prayer is all too hurried, a quick list of things I need for today and tomorrow. Mary, stop me from rushing. Help me to recall and cherish the graces I have received, to remember God’s forgiveness and his blessings, to revive my first love, to savour anew the wonders of his providence, and to shed tears of gratitude.
Let us pray together and say: Lord, renew in me the memory of your love
When the wounds of the past are re-opened, Lord, renew in me the memory of your love
When I lose my sense of reality, Lord, renew in me the memory of your love
When I take for granted all the gifts I have received, Lord, renew in me the memory of your love
When I lose sight of the gift that I am, Lord, renew in me the memory of your love
When I neglect to give you thanks, Lord, renew in me the memory of your love
You can find the rest of the reflections here:
https://www.vatican.va/news_services/liturgy/2024/documents/ns_lit_doc_20240329_via-crucis-meditazioni_en.html