Image of stations of the cross by Raphael 1483–1520)
The Holy See Press Office announced on 18 April 2025 that the Pope wrote the meditations
for the Good Friday “Via Crucis” (The Way of the Cross) at Rome’s Colosseum,
“For the Cross of our Lord’s Passion becomes our Tree of Eternal Life”
Introduction
The road to Calvary passes through the streets we walk every day.
Usually, Lord, we go in the other direction, and so it may happen that we meet you, that we see your face, that we meet your gaze.
We go our way as usual, and you come to us.
Your eyes look into our hearts.
Then it is difficult for us to go on, as if nothing happened.
We can turn around, look at you and follow you.
We can walk in your footsteps and come to realize that it was good for us to change direction.
From the Gospel according to (Mark 10:17-21e) –
As Jesus was setting out on his journey, a man ran up and knelt before him, and asked him, “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” And Jesus said to him, “Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone. You know the commandments: ‘do not kill, do not commit adultery, do not steal, do not bear false witness, do not defraud, honor your father and mother.’” And he said to him, “Teacher, all these I have observed from my youth.” And Jesus, looking at him loved him, and said, “You lack one thing; go, sell what you have, and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.”
Jesus is your name, and truly in you “God saves.”
The God of Abraham who calls, the God of Isaac who provides, the God of Jacob who blesses, the God of Israel who liberates, there is a whole revelation in your gaze, Lord, as you pass through Jerusalem.
The steps you take as you leave the city can foreshadow our own exodus to a new land.
You came to change the world: for us, that means changing direction, seeing the goodness of your path, letting the memory of your glance transform our hearts.
The Way of the Cross is the prayer of people on the move.
It interrupts our usual routine and allows us to pass from weariness and apathy to true joy.
Yes, following the way of Jesus has a price: in this world that puts a price on everything, gratuitousness proves costly.
In this gift, however, everything blossoms anew: a city divided into factions and torn by conflict can move toward reconciliation; an arid piety can rediscover the freshness of God’s promises; and a heart of stone can become a heart of flesh.
We need only hear his invitation: “Come! Follow me!” And trust in that gaze of love.
First Station – Jesus is condemned to death
From the Gospel according to Luke (23:13-16)
Pilate then called together the chief priests, the leaders, and the people, and said to them, “You brought me this man as one who was perverting the people; and here I have examined him in your presence and have not found this man guilty of any of your charges against him. Neither has Herod, for he sent him back to us. Indeed, he has done nothing to deserve death. I will therefore have him flogged and release him.”
It did not work out that way. Pilate did not release you. But it could have been different.
Such is the dramatic interplay of our individual freedoms.
That was what you valued so much in us, Lord.
You trusted Herod, Pilate, your friends and your enemies alike.
You never take back the trust you placed in us.
We can learn wonderful lessons from this: how to free the unjustly accused, how to recognize the complexity of situations, how to protest deadly judgements.
Even Herod could have followed the holy restlessness that drew him to you:but he chose not to, even when he was finally in your presence.
Pilate could have released you: he had already acquitted you.
He chose not to.
The way of the cross, Jesus, is a possibility that we have too often failed to consider.
Let us admit it: we have been prisoners of the roles we roles we want to continue playing,
afraid of the challenge of changing the direction of our lives.
But you are always there, standing silently before us, in each of our sisters and brothers who face judgement and bigotry.
Religious disputes, legal quibbles, the so-called common sense that prevents us from getting involved in the fate of others: a thousand reasons pull us to the side of Herod, the priests, Pilate and the crowd.
But it could be otherwise.
You, Jesus, do not wash your hands of all this.
You continue to love, in silence.
You have made your choice, and now it is our turn.
Let us pray and saying: Open my heart, Jesus!
When I see someone I have already judged, Open my heart, Jesus!
When my certainties are simply prejudices, Open my heart, Jesus!
When I am harsh and unbending, Open my heart, Jesus!
When goodness quietly attracts me, Open my heart, Jesus!
When I want to be strong, but fear my frailty Open my heart, Jesus!
Second Station – Jesus carries his cross
From the Gospel according to Luke (9:43-45)
While everyone was amazed at all that he was doing, he said to his disciples, “Let these words sink into your ears: The Son of Man is going to be betrayed into human hands.” But they did not understand this saying; its meaning was concealed from them, so that they could not perceive it. And they were afraid to ask him about this saying.
For months, perhaps years, you carried this burden, Jesus.
When you spoke of it, no one listened to you: there was an invincible resistance to even to thinking about it.
You did not ask for the cross, but you felt it, coming towards you, more and more.
If you accepted it, it was because you felt not only its burden, but also its responsibility.
The way of your cross, Jesus, is not only uphill.
It is also your descent towards those whom you loved, towards this world that God loves.
It is a response, an acceptance of responsibility.
The cross has its price, like all the deepest bonds, the greatest loves.
The burden you carried speaks of the Spirit that moves you, the Holy Spirit “who is Lord, the giver of life.”
Why are we afraid even to question you about this?
In truth, we are the ones who are gasping, out of breath, as a result of our attempts to escape responsibility.
All we need to do is to stop running away and stay in the company of those you have given us, in the situations where you have placed us.
To commit ourselves to them, recognizing that this is the only way to stop being prisoners of ourselves.
Selfishness weighs us down more than the cross.
Indifference burdens us more than sharing.
The prophet had foretold it: Even youths will faint and be weary, and the young will fall exhausted; but those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint (Is 40:30-31).
Let us pray, saying: Deliver us from weariness, Lord
If we feel burdened by life, Deliver us from weariness, Lord
If we lack the will to help others Deliver us from weariness, Lord
If we seek excuses to shirk our duties, Deliver us from weariness, Lord
If we have talents and skills to share, Deliver us from weariness, Lord
If our hearts rebel against injustice, Deliver us from weariness, Lord
Third Station – Jesus falls the first time
From the Gospel according to Luke (10:13-15)
“Woe to you, Chorazin! Woe to you, Bethsaida! For if the deeds of power done in you had been done in Tyre and Sidon, they would have repented long ago, sitting in sackcloth and ashes. But at the judgement it will be more tolerable for Tyre and Sidon than for you. And you, Capernaum, will you be exalted to heaven? No, you will be brought down to Hades.”
It was like hitting rock bottom, and you spoke these harsh words, Jesus, about these places that were so dear to you.
The seed of your word seemed to have fallen into the abyss, as did all your acts of deliverance. Every prophet has felt himself plunging into the abyss of failure, only to get up and continue walking in the ways of God.
Your life, Jesus, is a parable: on the ground of our lives, you never fall in vain.
Even the first time you fell, your disappointment was soon interrupted by the joy of remembering the disciples whom you had sent out: they returned from their mission and told you about the signs of the Kingdom of God.
Then you rejoiced with a spontaneous, overflowing joy that made you jump to your feet with contagious energy.
You blessed the Father, who hides his plans from the wise and the learned in order to reveal them to the little ones.
Even the way of the cross is traced close to the earth.
The mighty withdraw from it; they desire to grasp at heaven.
Yet heaven is here below; it hangs low, and we can encounter it even when we fall flat on the ground.
Today’s builders of Babel tell us that there is no room for losers, and that those who fall along the way are losers.
Theirs is the construction site of Hell.
God’s economy, on the other hand, does not kill, discard or crush.
It is lowly, faithful to the earth.
Your way, Jesus, is the way of the Beatitudes.
It does not crush, but cultivates, repairs and protects.
Let us pray, saying: May your kingdom come!
For those who think they have failed May your kingdom come!
To challenge an economy that kills, May your kingdom come!
To restore strength to those who have fallen, May your kingdom come!
In a world of competition and competitors, May your kingdom come!
For those left behind, lacking hope for the future, May your kingdom come!
Fourth Station – Jesus meets his Mother
From the Gospel according to Luke (8:19-21)
Then his mother and his brothers came to him, but they could not reach him because of the crowd. And he was told, “Your mother and your brothers are standing outside, wanting to see you.” But he said to them, “My mother and my brothers are those who hear the word of God and do it.”
Your mother is there, on the way to the cross: she was your first disciple.
With quiet determination, with the wisdom born of reflecting on all these things in her heart, your mother is present.
From the moment she was asked to welcome you in her womb, she turned to you.
She bent her ways to yours.
This was not a sacrifice but a continuous discovery, all the way until Calvary.
To follow you is to let you go; to possess you is to make room for your newness.
As every mother knows, children always surprise us.
Beloved Son, you know that your mother and your brothers and sisters are all those who listen to your words and let themselves be transformed, those who do not speak, but act.
In God, words are deeds, promises are realities.
On the way to the cross, O Mother, you are among the few who remember this.
Now it is your son who needs you: he knows that you do not despair.
He feels that you continue to give birth to the Word in your heart.
We too, Jesus, can follow you because we were begotten by your followers.
We too can live in the world due to the faith of your mother and of the countless witnesses who generate life even in those places where everything speaks of death.
That time, in Galilee, it was they who wanted to see you.
Now, as you ascend to Calvary, you seek the gaze of those who listen and act.
An ineffable understanding. An unbreakable covenant.
Let us pray, saying: Behold my Mother!
Mary listens, then speaks: Behold my Mother!
Mary asks and reflects: Behold my Mother!
Mary sets out with determination: Behold my Mother!
Mary rejoices and consoles: Behold my Mother!
Mary welcomes and cares: Behold my Mother!
Mary stays and waits: Behold my Mother!
Mary guides and accompanies: Behold my Mother!
Mary concedes nothing to death: Behold my Mother!
Fifth Station – Jesus is helped by Simon of Cyrene to carry the cross
From the Gospel according to Luke (23:26)
As they led him away, they seized a man, Simon of Cyrene, who was coming from the country, and they laid the cross on him, and made him carry it behind Jesus.
He did not volunteer; they stopped him.
Simon was returning from his work and they made him carry the cross of a condemned man.
He may have had the right physique, but surely he had something else in mind, something else to do.
Yet we can encounter God in this way.
Lord, who knows why this name — Simon of Cyrene — was never forgotten by your disciples!
On the way to the cross they were not there, nor were we, but Simon was.
It is still true today: when someone gives himself completely, we can be elsewhere, even on the run, or we can choose to get involved.
We believe, Lord, that the reason we remember Simon’s name is because this unexpected event changed him forever.
After that, he never stopped thinking about you.
He became a part of your body, that you were different from any other condemned man.
Simon of Cyrene found himself, without asking, carrying your cross, like the yoke of which you once said: “My yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Mt 11:30).
Even animals plough better when they move forward together.
You, Jesus, love to include us in your work of ploughing the earth so that it can be sown anew.
We need the surprising lightness of your yoke.
We need people to stop us sometimes and put a burden on our shoulders, one that we have no choice but to carry.
We can work all day long, but without you it is in vain.
In Vain is the toil of the builders, in vain does the watchman keep watch over a city that God does not build (cf. Ps 127).
On the way of the cross, the new Jerusalem is rising.
May we, like Simon of Cyrene, change our course and collaborate with you.
Let us pray saying: Alter our course, Lord!
When we go our own way, eyes averted: Alter our course, Lord!
When news reports do not disturb us: Alter our course, Lord!
When faces become statistics: Alter our course, Lord!
When we never find time to listen: Alter our course, Lord!
When we make decisions in haste: Alter our course, Lord!
When we refuse to break out of our routine: Alter our course, Lord!
Sixth Station – Veronica wipes the face of Jesus
From the Gospel according to Luke (9:29-31)
While he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white.
Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him.
They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem.
From Psalm 27
“Come,” my heart says, “seek his face!” Your face, Lord, do I seek. Do not hide your face from me.
As we contemplating your face, Jesus, we see into your heart.
In Your eyes, we see your determination; it is etched into Your face, which manifests your clear determination.
You see Veronica, as you see me.
I also see your face, which tells of your decision to love us until your last breath and even beyond, for love is strong as death (cf. Song 8:6).
Our hearts are transformed by the sight of your face, which I long to contemplate and cherish. You place yourself into our hands, day by day, in the face of every man and woman we meet, a living reminder of your Incarnation.
Whenever we turn to the least of our brothers and sisters, we see you, your flesh and your presence among us.
In this way, you light our hearts and our facial expressions.
Instead of rejecting others, we now accept them.
On the way of the cross, our faces, like yours, can finally become radiant and a source of blessing. You have imprinted the memory of your face in our hearts as a pledge of your return, when you will recognize each of us at first glance.
Then, perhaps, we will become like you.
Then we shall be — face to face, in eternal dialogue, in joyful intimacy — the family of God.
Let us pray, saying: Jesus, impress your memory upon us!
If our faces are expressionless: Jesus, impress your memory upon us!
If our hearts are indifferent: Jesus, impress your memory upon us!
If our actions are divisive: Jesus, impress your memory upon us!
If our choices cause hurt: Jesus, impress your memory upon us!
If our plans exclude others: Jesus, impress your memory upon us!
Seventh Station – Jesus falls the second time
From the Gospel according to Luke (15: 2-6)
And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.” So he told them this parable: “Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it? When he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders and rejoices. And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbors, saying to them, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.’”
Fall and rise again; fall and rise up again.
This is how you taught us, Jesus, to approach the adventure of human life.
It is a life that is human because it is open to the future.
We do not allow machines to make mistakes: we expect them to be perfect.
People, on the other hand, get confused, distracted, lost.
But they also know joy: the joy of new beginnings, the joy of rebirth.
Human beings are not mass-produced but handcrafted: we are unique treasures, a blend of grace and responsibility.
Lord Jesus, you made yourself one of us; you were not afraid to stumble and fall.
All those who are ashamed by this, who want to appear infallible, who hide their own falls but refuse to forgive those of others, reject the path that you chose.
You, Jesus, are the Lord of joy.
In you, we have all been found and brought home, like the one sheep that had gone astray.
An economy in which the ninety-nine are more important than the one is inhumane.
Yet we have built a world that works that way: a world of calculation and algorithms, of cold logic and implacable interests.
The law of your home, the divine economy, is different, Lord.
When we turn our hearts to you, who fall and rise again, we experience a change of course and a change of pace.
It is a conversion that restores our joy and brings us safely home.
Let us pray, saying: Raise us up, God, our salvation!
We are children who cry at times: Raise us up, God, our salvation
We are adolescents who feel insecure: Raise us up, God, our salvation
We are young people dismissed by many adults Raise us up, God, our salvation
We are adults who have made mistakes: Raise us up, God, our salvation
We are elderly people who still want to dream: Raise us up, God, our salvation
Eighth Station – Jesus meets the women of Jerusalem
From the Gospel according to Luke (23:27-31)
A great number of the people followed him, and among them were women who were beating their breasts and wailing for him. But Jesus turned to them and said, “Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me, but weep for yourselves and for your children. For the days are surely coming when they will say, ‘Blessed are the barren, and the wombs that never bore, and the breasts that never nursed.’ Then they will begin to say to the mountains, ‘Fall on us;’ and to the hills, ‘Cover us.’ For if they do this when the wood is green, what will happen when it is dry?”
In women, Lord, you have always seen a special image of the heart of God. That is why, on that day, in the midst of the great crowd that turned and followed you, you immediately saw the women and once again felt their closeness.
A city is a different place when women care for those around them, when we see mothers holding and feeding their children; then we look beyond power and profit and sense the things that really matter.
The weeping women find their hearts moved at the sight of your suffering.
For the heart is where things are connected and thoughts and decisions are born.
“Do not weep for me. God’s heart is throbbing with love for His people; He is creating a new city: “Weep for yourselves and for your children.”
There is indeed a kind of weeping that can bring forth a new birth. It brings forth tears of repentance, unabashed and unrestrained.
Lord, our broken world and the hurts and offenses that tear our human family apart call for tears that are heartfelt and not merely superficial.
Otherwise, the apocalyptic visions will all come true: we will no longer produce life, and everything around us will collapse.
Faith, on the other hand, can move mountains.
The mountains and the hills will not come crashing down on us, but a path will open up in their midst.
It is your way, Jesus: an uphill way, a way on which the apostles left you, while the faithful women – the mothers of the Church – continued to follow you.
Let us pray, saying: Jesus, grant us a maternal heart!
You filled the Church’s history with holy women:
You disdained arrogance and domination:
You embraced and consoled the tears of mothers:
You made women the messengers of the resurrection:
You inspire new charisms and missions in the Church:
Ninth Station – Jesus falls the third time
From the Gospel according to Luke (7:44-49)
[Jesus] said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she has bathed my feet with her tears and dried them with her hair. You gave me no kiss, but from the time I came in she has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment. Therefore, I tell you, her sins, which were many, have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little.” Then he said to her, “Your sins are forgiven.” But those who were at the table with him began to say among themselves, “Who is this who even forgives sins?”
Not just once or twice, Jesus: you fall again.
When you were a child, like every child, you knew what it was to fall.
In this way, you came to understand and embrace our humanity, which falls all the time.
Sin distances us from one another, but your sinless existence brings you close to every sinner, even in the midst of their falls. And this invites them to repentance.
This is a scandal for all those who distance themselves from others and even from themselves.
It is a scandal for those who lead a double life, between what they should be and what they really are.
Before your mercy, Jesus, all hypocrisy falls away.
Our masks, our elegant veneers, are useless. God sees into the heart.
He loves the heart.
He warms the heart.
And so you lift me up and set me on my way again, on paths not yet trodden, paths of boldness and generosity.
Who are you, Jesus, who even forgives sins?
Fallen to the ground on the way of the cross, you are the Savior of this earth that we tread, this earth from which we are made.
Here, on this earth, you continue to shape us, like a skilled potter.
Let us pray, saying: We are clay in your hands
When it seems that nothing can change, remind us: We are clay in your hands
When conflicts seem interminable, remind us: We are clay in your hands
When technology tempts us to feel all-powerful, remind us: We are clay in your hands
When prosperity estranges us from the earth, remind us: We are clay in your hands
When we are concerned with appearances than the heart, remind us: We are clay in your hands
Tenth Station – Jesus is stripped of his garments
From the Book of Job (1:20-22)
Then Job arose, tore his robe, shaved his head, and fell on the ground and worshiped. He said, “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return there; the Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.” In all this Job did not sin or charge God with wrongdoing.
You do not take off your garment, it is taken off.
The difference is clear to all of us, Jesus.
Only one who loves us can see our nakedness and make it his own.
We, on the other hand, are afraid of the eyes of those who do not know us, who only want to possess us.
Stripped naked, exposed to the gaze of all, you turn even humiliation into intimacy.
You want to reveal yourself completely even to those who kill you; you see those who rob you of everything as loved ones given to you by the Father.
There is something greater here than the patience of Job, greater even than his faith.
You are the Bridegroom who lets himself be taken and touched, who turns everything to good.
You leave us your garments, like relics of a consummated love.
They are now in our hands, a sign that you were with us, in our midst.
We have kept your garments and now we cast lots for them, but the winner here is not just one, but all.
You know each one of us individually to save us together: all of us, each one of us.
And if the Church today appears as a torn garment, teach us to weave anew the fabric of our fraternity based on your gift.
We are your body, your seamless garment, your bride.
For so we are, all together.
For our lot has fallen in good places; we have a splendid inheritance (cf. Ps 16:6).
Let us pray, saying: Grant peace and unity to your Church
Lord Jesus, you see your disciples divided: Grant peace and unity to your Church
Lord Jesus, you bear the wounds of our history: Grant peace and unity to your Church
Lord Jesus, you know how frail is our love: Grant peace and unity to your Church
Lord Jesus, you wish us to be members of your body: Grant peace and unity to your Church
Lord Jesus, you are enrobed in mercy: Grant peace and unity to your Church
Eleventh Station – Jesus is nailed to the cross
From the Gospel according to Luke (23:32-34)
Two others also, who were criminals, were led away to be put to death with him. When they came to the place that is called The Skull, they crucified Jesus there with the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. Then Jesus said, “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.”
Nothing frightens us more than not being able to move.
Yet here you are, bound, nailed, held.
And yet you are not alone, but in the company of two others, determined to reveal yourself, even on the cross, as “God with us”.
Revelation never stops; it is not nailed in one place. Lord, you show us that in every situation there is a choice to be made.
This is the amazing reality of our freedom.
Even on the cross you are not deprived of your freedom: you choose why and for whom you are there.
You are attentive to the two men crucified with you: you let slip the insults of one and you hear the pleas of the other.
You are even concerned about the men who crucified you: you look into the hearts of those who “do not know what they are doing”.
You look up to heaven: you wish it were clearer, but you break through its barrier of darkness with the light of your intercession.
Nailed to the cross, you intercede: you “stand between” the conflicting parties.
And you bring them to God, because your Cross breaks down walls, cancels debts, quashes judgments, establishes reconciliation.
You yourself are the true Jubilee.
Convert us to you, Jesus; though nailed to the cross, you are able to do all things.
Let us pray, saying: Teach us to love
When we are strong and when we are not: Teach us to love
When we are bound by unjust laws or decisions: Teach us to love
When we are at odds with those uninterested in truth and justice: Teach us to love
When we are tempted to despair: Teach us to love
When everyone says, “There is nothing to be done:” Teach us to love
Twelfth Station – Jesus dies on the cross
From the Gospel according to Luke (23:45-49)
The sun’s light failed; and the curtain of the temple was torn in two. Then Jesus, crying with a loud voice, said, “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” Having said this, he breathed his last. When the centurion saw what had taken place, he praised God and said, “Certainly this man was innocent.” And when all the crowds who had gathered there for this spectacle saw what had taken place, they returned home, beating their breasts. But all his acquaintances, including the women who had followed him from Galilee, stood at a distance, watching these things.
Where do we stand on Calvary? Under the cross? Somewhere near? At a safe distance?
Or perhaps, like the apostles, not even there.
You are breathing your last, and that breath, both the last and the first, asks only to be received.
Lord Jesus, direct our paths to this, your gift.
Do not let your breath of life be dispersed.
Our darkness seeks light.
Our temples always want to remain open.
Now the Holy One is no longer behind the veil: His mystery is revealed to all.
It is perceived by a soldier who, seeing you die, recognizes a new kind of power.
The crowd that cried out against you understands: once distant, they now encounter the spectacle of an unprecedented love, a beauty that revives faith.
To those who see you dying, Lord, you give the opportunity to repent, to return to you and to beat our breasts to shatter our hardness of heart.
Jesus, grant that we, who too often look at you from afar, may always be mindful of you, so that when you finally come, death itself will find us alive.
Let us pray, saying: Holy Spirit, come!
We have kept our distance from the Lord’s wounds: Holy Spirit, come!
We have turned away from our brothers and sisters in need: Holy Spirit, come!
We have regarded the merciful and the poor in spirit as losers: Holy Spirit, come!
Believers and non-believers stand before your cross: Holy Spirit, come!
The whole world yearns for a new beginning: Holy Spirit, come!
Thirteenth Station – Jesus is taken down from the cross
From the Gospel according to Luke (23:50-53)
Now there was a good and righteous man named Joseph, who, though a member of the council, had not agreed to their plan and action. He came from the Jewish town of Arimathea, and he was waiting expectantly for the kingdom of God. This man went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. Then he took it down, wrapped it in a linen cloth, and laid it in a rock-hewn tomb where no one had ever been laid.
Your body is now finally in the hands of a good and righteous man.
You are wrapped in the sleep of death, Jesus, but a living, generous heart has now chosen to stand by you.
Joseph was not one of those who talk but fail to act.
“He had not agreed with their plan and action,” the Gospel tells us.
And this is good news: someone who chose not to care about the opinion of others now cares about you, Jesus. You are being cared for by someone who cares about doing what he thinks is right.
You are now in the hands of Joseph of Arimathea, one who “waited expectantly for the kingdom of God.
You are now in the hands of someone who continues to hope, one of those who refuse to believe that injustice always prevails.
You are breaking the bonds of the inevitable, Jesus.
You challenge the attitudes that destroy the earth, our common home, and human solidarity.
You give those who “wait expectantly” for your kingdom the courage to speak to power: like Moses to Pharaoh, like Joseph of Arimathea to Pilate.
You encourage us to undertake great tasks.
In this way, even in death, you continue to reign.
For us, Jesus, to serve you is to reign
Let us pray, saying: To serve you is to reign
When we feed the hungry: To serve you is to reign
When we give drink to the thirsty: To serve you is to reign
When we clothe the naked: To serve you is to reign
When we visit prisoners To serve you is to reign
When we bury the dead: To serve you is to reign
Fourteenth Station – Jesus is laid in the tomb
From the Gospel according to Luke (23:53-56)
[Joseph of Arimathea] wrapped [the body of Jesus] in a linen cloth, and laid it in a rock-hewn tomb where no one had ever been laid. It was the day of Preparation, and the Sabbath was beginning. The women who had come with him from Galilee followed, and they saw the tomb and how his body was laid. Then they returned, and prepared spices and ointments. On the Sabbath, they rested according to the commandment.
In a world of hectic activity, Jesus, you now experience your Sabbath. The women experience it too; their spices and ointments seem already to prefigure the resurrection. Teach us how to do nothing at those times when it is asked of us only to wait. Teach us sensitivity to the seasons of the earth, which are not those of our making. Laid in the tomb, Lord Jesus, you share in our common human condition, descending to the depths that so terrify us. You see how we try to escape them by keeping desperately busy. Often we end up merely going around in circles, but then the light of the Sabbath shines forth: it teaches us; it tells us of our need to rest. To experience a godly life, life on a truly human scale, a life that knows the peace of the Sabbath. This is what the prophet Micah foretold: “They shall all sit under their own vines and under their own fig trees, and no one shall make them afraid” (Mic 4:4). So too, Zechariah tells us: “On that day, says the Lord of hosts, you shall invite each other to come under your vine and fig tree” (Zech 3:10). Lord Jesus, who seem to sleep amid the tempests of this world, bring us all into the peace of the Sabbath rest. Then we shall see creation in all its beauty and goodness, destined for resurrection. Then there will be peace for your people and peace among the nations.
Let us pray, saying: May your peace come!
For earth, air and water: May your peace come!
For the just and the unjust alike: May your peace come!
For those who are overlooked and voiceless: May your peace come!
For the powerless and the poor: May your peace come!
For those who await a springtime of justice May your peace come!
Concluding Reflections and Prayer
“‘Laudato sì, mi’ Signore’ — ‘Praise be to you, my Lord.’ In the words of this beautiful canticle, Saint Francis of Assisi reminds us that our common home is like a sister… This sister now cries out to us because of the harm we have inflicted on her” (Encyclical Letter Laudato Si’, 1-2).
“‘Fratelli tutti.’ With these words, Saint Francis addressed his brothers and sisters and proposed to them a way of life marked by the flavor of the Gospel” (Encyclical Letter Fratelli Tutti, 1).
“‘He loved us, Saint Paul says of Christ… in order to make us realize that nothing can ever ‘separate us’ from that love” (Encyclical Letter Dilexit Nos, 1).
We have walked the Stations of the Cross. We have turned towards the love from which nothing can ever separate us. Now, as the King sleeps and a great silence descends upon all the earth, let us pray, in the words of Saint Francis, for the gift of heartfelt conversion:
Most High and glorious God, Cast your light into the darkness of my heart.
Grant me right faith, firm hope, perfect charity, and profound humility.
Grant me, Lord, wisdom and understanding, so that I may do your true and holy will. Amen.