She is there. His mother.
Almost swallowed up in the jeering mob.
She is always there. Always involved. Even to this.
“Near the cross of Jesus, stood his mother.” (John 19:35)
His suffering is over now.
He is at peace.
The chalice has passed,
But only after it had been drained.
His limp body rests on her lap.
She holds him as only a mother could.
Memories flood her heart.
She had said:
“Behold your maidservant. Be it done to me according to your will.” (Luke 1:38)
She had taught him how to talk, to walk, to read, to love.
“Son, why have you done this to us? You see your father and I have been searching for you in sorrow.” (Luke 2:48)
“Do not fear, Mary. You have found favor with God.” (Luke 1:30)
“All ages to come shall call me blessed.” (Luke 1:48)
No ideology can explain all this.
“All this” was a matter of love.
This station, with its spectre of irrevocable loss, its futile efforts and wasted dreams, drains the human soul to the point of numbness. Its questions are straightforward: Can anything worse be imagined? Are we, like Mary, prepared to let go of everything we ever wanted, so that God’s will can come another way?
There are some things that can be learned by the head. Christ crucified can only be learned by the heart.
Charles Hadley Spurgeon
. . . Who can rescue or comfort you,
young daughter of Zion?
For huge as the sea is your ruin.
Art: Pieta, by Kathe Kollwitz
Song: “Mary, Did You Know?” performed by Kathy Mattea