The Way of Sorrow

As they led him away, they seized Simon, a Cyrenian, who was coming in from the country, and laid the cross on him to carry behind Jesus. A large crowd of people followed him, including women who were mourning and lamenting him. But turning to them, Jesus said, “Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me, but weep for yourselves and your children. Look, the days are coming when they will say, ‘Blessed are the women without children, 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 these things when the wood is green, what will happen when it is dry?” Luke 23:26-31
(CSB)

We are not just in Jerusalem, but on the Via Dolorosa: “The Sorrowful Way”. It’s a road that winds its way through Old City Jerusalem, starting the place where Pilates’ condemnation yesterday took place, and concluding at the place of the crucifixion and burial. The final hours are upon us. At one place on the modern road, The Covenant of the Sisters of Zion, there is actually a place where you can go underground some ways down and see an old Roman walkway that likely (although there is some debate) dates to the time Jesus walked the path. One scholar labels it as the very place of Gabbatha, or yesterday’s condemnation. On it, there are still markings assumed to be those made by Roman soldiers who played with their prisoners. Lots cast for clothing. Torture toyed with. Brutal thorny crowns jammed on heads. 

A dark image of human brutality. 

It is on this street that Jesus says what he says to the women crying for him. This line haunts me.  If they’ll do this while God is present, you can’t imagine what they’ll do when he’s not. This is nothing. 

I can’t overstate this. If we would kill God when he was actually with us, how would we act if we assume he’s not around? At this point in our Journey, there should be little doubt about Jesus’ view on human nature. He wasn’t the nice tolerant, inclusive, agree to disagree person we make him out to be. There were two types of people for him: Children of God, and Children of Satan. And no one automatically belongs to the former. 

I picture this as I remember walking upon the rows of crosses at Normandy, the terrible image of so many lives lost early. 
I picture this as I think about the lynching victims within this country. 
I picture this as I look at the memorials to mass killing that we pass without notice, including against the Huguenots within the boundaries of our own city. 
I picture this as I think of the over one million children currently in sexual servitude on this planet.

One million.  

I think of this as I imagine the brutal killings in the name of ideology in the twentieth century. 
I think about this as national leaders point nuclear missiles at each other with jocular pride, teetering on the annihilation of all. 

I think of Jesus carrying these images in his own head, as he walked with that cross along this burdensome, wearying road. So beaten and tired, that someone else had to bear it for him for part of the way. But I am buoyed by the unbelievable realization that despite what he knew about the darkness of the human heart, our Lord’s compassion for us is so profound that he was willing to walk it, chose to walk it, to save those who would desire it. Even though there is darkness —deep darkness worthy of mourning— the love of God is stronger yet. While this road is known as the Way of Sorrow, it’s also known as the Way of the Cross, which has come for us — those who hope and trust in the goodness of God — as the way of God’s love. 

Very near ahead, through nauseous tears,Jesus sees his final destination, and that which will be for us our saving cry.

Golgotha looms.