At the foot of the cross
A reflection by Jean Stokan of the Mercy Justice Team
It is Good Friday, and in so many corners of our communities and our globe, Jesus is hanging on the cross, crying out in anguish.
Perhaps like you, taking in the daily news stories and images feels crushing: emaciated infants from Gaza, shrouds of Iranian school girls killed by U.S. air strikes, the mounting toll of immigrants dying in detention centers, and screaming children traumatized as ICE agents grab their parents. It’s painful to hear this administration’s chorus of “Crucify them! Crucify them!” as immigrant families are torn apart. And yet, the crescendo of “No” is growing.
Somehow, many are able to avert their eyes from seeing the suffering Christ today, but I’ve never been good at firewalling my heart. Over the decades, I have had opportunities to draw quite close to victims of torture and war, and I have had friends killed for their courageous work as water protectors. Thus, I’ve wept buckets.
Yet the Holy One reminds me again and again to change my prayer posture—from one of weeping alone at the foot of the cross, to joining hand in hand with others, turning toward Holy Saturday’s stone, expectantly.
Something sacred happens when great suffering and great love converge. Surely all of our humble gestures of advocacy, prayer and standing vigil—God uses them to build a more just and loving world. And until that world arrives, we will keep joining hands and marching forward, lifting up the pictures of the suffering and martyred ones – as Veronica’s veils – in hopes of breaking all hearts with compassion.
I once wrote a poem, “I hate life at the foot of the cross,” during a difficult five-year period of parent care. God’s last line, the ending to the prayer, was “but where else am I supposed to be—if that’s where my loves lay bleeding?”
So, as we accompany the broken and bleeding today, doing what we can to take Christ down from the cross, may we find the strength to continue to draw close, reverently kiss the wounds of this world, and linger on this Holy Ground. Easter’s hope awaits.
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Friday alert digest
This is one in our recurring series of Friday reflections, where one of the Mercy Justice Team’s members shares some hope and encouragement, and the team gives you an opportunity to respond to any recent calls to action you might have missed. This week, you still have the opportunity via the alerts below to work for change in unjust systems. Click the link for any of the messages you might have missed this week and add your voice: