Jesus is Condemned to Death

25 March 2012

Feast of the Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin Mary

And in response, the Angel said to her: “The Holy Spirit will pass over you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. And because of this also, the Holy One who will be born of you shall be called the Son of God. - Gospel According to Luke, Chapter 1, Verse 35.

Hello everyone. I'm sitting in my room on Sunday evening. It's the 25^th of March and it is the Feast of the Annunciation. A crucifix hangs on my wall just in front of me and something tells me that while I write this blog, I need to keep my eyes fixed on it. This is the first post of a fifteen part series I want to do on the Stations of the Cross. I will post every evening for the next fourteen days leading up to Easter Sunday. Each day I will post the station and a reflection on my day past. The hope for me is that it will help me grow spiritually and better prepare me for the Easter celebration. At the same time, I'd like to share the experience with anyone who is interested in taking the journey with me.

I had the idea a few weeks ago but my enthusiasm for it had trickled away over the days of Lent. However, today, something (the Holy Spirit) prompted me to think about it again. I saw a reminder on my phone and low and behold I had set today as my day to start. I also received a facebook message a few days ago from a friend asking if I would like to write a blog to share on his Catholic networking site. In light of these events I really feel like I'm supposed to do this.

Here we go:

The First Station

Jesus is Condemned To Death

"So when Pilate saw that he was gaining nothing, but rather that a riot was beginning, he took water and washed his hands before the crowd, saying, "I am innocent of this man's blood; see to it yourselves." And all the people answered, "His blood be on us and on our children!" Then he released for them Barab'bas, and having scourged Jesus, delivered him to be crucified."  (St. Matthew 27.24-26)

This Lent has been a terrible one for me. I started with lukewarm commitment and have continued in much the same manner throughout. I didn't give up anything (which is fine) but I had resolved to take on something. Something meaningful. I had wanted to volunteer at an old age home or a homeless shelter but, what do you know, I never got round to it.

I planned to fast twice a week but this turned out to be a half hearted affair. I have found my faith deeply challenged this Lent. Doubts have arisen, I have been spiritually lazy and unable to focus in prayer, but one thing has bugged me the most.

My indifference to the needy.

I realised at the start of the season, that what was important was not the giving up of things but what I could do to help others. I had posted Isaiah 58, verses 5 to 7 on Facebook, which talks about loosing the “chains of injustice” and untying the “cords of the yoke”. I thought I was being very clever.

Today I got my wake up call. Which makes it all the more fitting for me to have started this blog today. I had made my way to Rondebosch in the morning for Mass. The Gospel reading had been the raising of Lazarus (John 11: 1-45). Fitting. In many ways (you'll see why later). After Mass, I spent the day with a good friend of mine. We watched Ridley Scott's Alien and then I grabbed a mini-bus back to town. I walked up Long Street and then up Kloof Street and something struck me. There were so many beggars. Anyone who has walked around Cape Town CBD will know there is no shortage of panhandlers, petty thieves and homeless people but today there just seemed to be a multitude. When asked for money, I did my usual shake of the head with the mumbled, “sorry.” I pressed on up Kloof and I was just passing Nandos when I spotted a boy (he looked like a boy but he could have been in his late teens) walking slowly towards me. He was wearing ripped jeans and shredded shoes, his top was caked with dirt from nights on the street but what hit home was the look on his face. He was staring blankly ahead, his face was gaunt, the grooves in his cheeks where highlighted by smudges of dirt and his eyes were glazed over. He may have been high but I could see, even beyond that, that he had lost his will to live. It was very sad. I watched him walk past and more shockingly, I walked on. Suddenly a huge weight pressed on my chest. How could I have just let him walk by? I walked on but the weight grew heavier and I knew I needed to pray. I stopped by the Villa Maria adoration chapel and knelt down and pleaded for the boy. As much as I hope that these prayers were effective I knew I had missed a calling to help him; to do something for him. Our Parish priest had just been talking about raising and unbinding those people who have suffered a death of the heart (he had related this to the raising of Lazarus) by being Christ to those people. Merely a few hours later I had failed to do that.

How does this relate to today's station? Just as Pilate washed his hands of Jesus, how often do I wash my hands of those who need my help? How often do I shirk the responsibilty in the hopes that someone else will take care of it? Today I did. I feel St.Clare's prayer for this station sums up my feelings adequately and so I will leave you with that but before I do, to add a positive element to this post; all the events that transpired today led me to actually writing this. I wouldn't have done it otherwise and so God works His ways to bring me back to Him and to reveal His Mercy and who knows, perhaps I can take the last 14 days of Lent and make them count.

Let us pray:

Lord, have mercy on us, for none of us are innocent. In this mirror allow me to see where I have denied you, where I have refused to take responsibility, feared involvement in the suffering of others, turned away at the cost of the innocent. Lord, grant me the grace, the courage, to face suffering, to stand as a reed against towering Cedars that would crush the blameless, to contend with evil knowing that my failure to find my outrage is my complicity in it. Too, teach me humility, my God, in knowing that were I there, I would have denied You, fled you, too ... because I deny you, flee you, each time I choose sin over you. May this be so no more.

Judgment is no more mine than it was Pilate's. Lord, open my heart to pray for all those condemned to die.

Am I not numbered among them?

PS: This post is longer than the length I have planned for all the others.