Scripture Isaiah 35:1-10 Psalm 146:5-10 or Luke 1:46b-55 James 5:7-10 Matthew 11:2-11
The Revised Common Lectionary
On this third Sunday of Advent, we light the Rose Candle representing joy. This Sunday is also known as Gaudete Sunday (Latin).
The Advent Wreath
By Debora Buerk, Editor, Here & Now, Selah Companion
The Advent wreath originated among German Lutherans in the sixteenth century. However, it was not until three centuries later that the modern Advent wreath took shape, thanks to German protestant pastor Johann Hinrich Wichern (1808-1881). Along with Wichern’s wreath came the tradition of lighting candles during Advent worship services.
Pastor Wichern’s wreath consisted of a large wooden ring (made from an old cartwheel) with twenty small red candles and four large white candles. The small red candles were lit during the week, the white candles on Sundays.
While the form of the Advent wreath changed over time, the tradition of lighting candles during Advent spread throughout Germany and beyond Lutheranism. The Advent wreath expanded into the western Church and took hold in the United States during the 1930s.
Symbolism. Advent wreaths are circular, representing God’s infinite love, and are usually made of evergreen leaves, expressing the hope of eternal life Jesus brings.
Hope
Peace
Joy
Love
Within the wreath, four prominent candles represent the four weeks of the Advent season. Collectively, the candles symbolize the light of God coming into the world through the birth of Jesus.
The colors of the candles have their significance. In the Western Christian church, violet is the liturgical color for three of the four Sundays of Advent. Rose is the liturgical color for the third Sunday of Advent. White is traditionally chosen for the Christ candle to represent the liturgical color for Christmas.
The centerpiece of the wreath is a white candle, the Christ candle, to represent the arrival of Christmastide. Lit on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day, the Christ candle is the fitting completion of Advent.
Traditionally, the candles stand for the Christian truths of hope (week one), peace (week two), joy (week three), and love (week four).
The rose candle, lit on the third Sunday of Advent is also known as Gaudete Sunday—from the Latin meaning “rejoice, ye”—represents joy.
May this third week of Advent be joy-filled for you.
https://selahcenter.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/12/IMG_4433-scaled.jpeg19202560Debora Buerkhttps://selahcenter.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/05/SELAH_FINAL.pngDebora Buerk2022-12-11 04:00:002022-12-09 21:47:56Third Week of Advent
O Holy night! The stars are brightly shining It is the night of our dear Savior’s birth Long lay the world in sin and error pining ‘Til He appeared and the soul felt its worth A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn Fall on your knees; O hear the Angel voices! O night divine, O night when Christ was born O night, O Holy night, O night divine!
Soul Felt Its Worth
By Sandy Shipman, Selah Companion
She struggles with perfection, wants every detail just so. It sounds like criticism. The counselor says to love.
Then He appeared, and the soul felt its worth.
Anxiety fills his mind. Overwhelms. He lashes out. The counselor says to love.
Then He appeared, and the soul felt its worth.
She wants answers. Clarity. Solutions. Fix it! The counselor says to love.
Then He appeared, and the soul felt its worth.
He wants peace and retreat. Life interrupts. He withdraws. The counselor says to love.
Then He appeared, and the soul felt its worth.
She wants obedience. Conformity. Goodness. The counselor says to love.
Then He appeared, and the soul felt its worth.
He wants respect, honor, legacy. The counselor says to love.
Then He appeared, and the soul felt its worth.
She wants, he wants, they want, yearn, ache, grasp, fight, flail. The counselor says to love.
Then He appeared, and the soul felt its worth.
https://selahcenter.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/benjamin-voros-u-kty6hxcqc-unsplash.jpg427640Selah Centerhttps://selahcenter.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/05/SELAH_FINAL.pngSelah Center2022-12-05 04:00:002022-12-04 21:02:26Advent Day 9
I love playing with language, words, derivatives, and meanings and considering what is intended. So, my little brain put together “advent” – looking forward to what is about to happen. This advent season stirs the beginnings of what I can offer to my friends when I send out Christmas greetings. I want to give something of meaning, and value, something of myself that took effort, thought, and the work of my person. So, the last few years have been devoted to painting pictures for greeting cards. While it might not have the intended meaning extended to the receiver in quite the way I began the work; I am drawn to what comes to mind as I look at life.
My first attempt was of Christmas ornaments hanging from the limb of a fir tree. It is something that most people recognize, no matter what tradition, culture, or country of experience. So many things come to mind. If I want to decorate my world with my attitudes, actions, and presence, I realize I cannot hang in midair but need support and dangle in midair, hopefully showing off the reflected light of the other brilliance around and show that I get to be part of a great whole that graces that tree. Not alone, hanging, dangling with others to make a more beautiful whole.
The candle painting from a different year displays light in a dark place. Truthfully, my favorite part of the picture is the rounded glass holder that catches the drippings. Something about how it catches the light and roundness warms me, a reminder that it doesn’t shine on its own. It holds something of substance that supports a wick that runs through the waxy pillar that, by its composition, warms the hardened to a softened texture and lightens the dark. Nothing of that pictured object works by itself.
My tree was intended to have a whimsical feel to it. While in the cold, it holds up the softness of the snow, a tree that is a remembrance of nature, a symbol of the season we often bring into our homes to remind us of a holy-day (holiday), yet in some ways, seems a disconnect with the true meaning as it was kind of a non-biblical, non-Christian way of commemorating the birth of Christ which likely happened in a different season anyway.
The picture beckoned something else – warmth; I wanted life to speak into what seemed cold. While bunnies are not often out and about during this time, it just seemed fitting to have the little guy depicted. Not only does it symbolize warmth to me, but they emerge in little bundles of fur into adolescent fluffs during the spring on our property. I watch for them as they give me such delight. Life. Warmth is expected after the cold and dark of winter. I look forward to the winter solstice as a reminder that the daylight hours will begin to lengthen. The tree by itself seemed lonely. The presence of the rabbit is a bit of hope; in turn, the tree is a bit of shelter: Christmas is the season of hope for our Shelter.
All considered, the conclusion is Emmanuel – God with us. As I have compiled my thoughts in writing this, all these pictures bring the realization that we are not alone. And isn’t that what God meant when it was said, “Come,” “I am with you,” “You will be with Me,” and “I will be with you”? We are not alone.
My painting teachers often point out the need for light. It is critical when painting realism that you consider “where your source of light is.” It determines shading, the hues used, where the light hits the objects painted, and whether your finished illustration “makes sense.” One of the most stirring things in pondering creative handiwork is the eye. Imagine: If the pupil of the eyes is too close together in a portrait, you can imagine what that person looks like. More like a toon, I’d say. If they are raised, the point, or the “apple of the eye,” as some name it, must be in the correct position for the viewer to know where the person is looking, and you tend to look in that direction and wonder what is being looked at. Have you ever heard of someone being the “apple of one’s eye”? That speaks to preciousness. I find it funny that we also call it the pupil – a place of learning. It is also a place that uses light and adjusts to it, and the cones of the eye allow for color to be perceived. The eye’s structure, function, and workings are nothing short of miraculous. By the way, our pupils widen in darkness to catch whatever bit of light possible. My cat’s eyes become more beautiful when those huge, dark pupils enlarge. His face looks more dear to me. Do I strain to see the Light who calls me precious, and will the learning of my gaze widen with amazement at Beauty? Do I see the Light more clearly?
There are techniques such as the rule of thirds and the “s” curve to provide movement, so your “eye” will travel across the picture, clearer and more distinct in the foreground, less so for distance. So many things that I have learned to help me to “see” my world differently, including the tremendous variations of green there are when I look at a wall of trees through the “eyes of my heart,” and meaning grows more profound. Until someone pointed this out, I never would have recognized that, and now my awareness has been piqued for all kinds of details. This creates profound wonder in the beauty I don’t want to miss and helps me see there is so much more to the world than I realize. My Light is growing brighter, showing more details, and shining greater wonder into the beauty surrounding me. And thus, begins my lessons on creativity. They continue.
https://selahcenter.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/d6aef90c-17f8-40a4-8304-91a620b8e5aa-1.png138369903Selah Centerhttps://selahcenter.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/05/SELAH_FINAL.pngSelah Center2022-11-30 04:00:002022-11-28 16:49:02Advent Day 4
You will make known to me the path of life; In Your presence is fullness of joy; In Your right hand there are pleasures forever.
Psalm 16:11
The Fullness of Joy
By Sandy Shipman a Selah Companion & part of the Selah community
Many of us fortunate Americans know the stuffed feeling after Thanksgiving. We ate more than our fill of turkey and stuffing, potatoes and gravy, yams with marshmallows, green bean casserole, and Brussels sprouts. (Every family has that dish that must be made, but few eat.) We garnished with some hotly debated form of cranberry puree and probably olives, one for each finger. We looked around the beautifully decorated table at the mounds of food left over and wanted more, but we were stuffed. Not another bite can be eaten. And we know more is waiting in the kitchen. One or more variations of pie: pumpkin, mincemeat, pecan, apple. This moment of plenty requires us to rest, to digest.
So it is when I practice gratitude. Giving thanks for my simple breakfast invites me to notice all the preparation that brought me my granola and yogurt and blueberries. I consider all the unknown hands that worked together, farmers, pickers, truckers, stockers, each with lives and dreams and aches and their own gratitudes. I marvel at the natural process that made a delicious berry come from a woody branch, that started as a tiny seed. And I have dozens of these tiny miracles right in my bowl! And how do I even fathom that creamy yogurt started in the earth as grass seed, and divinely became milk, and through fermentation of all things, becomes yogurt. I am stuffed already. I haven’t even considered yet the granola with all its different grains and seeds or the ceramic bowl itself, or the wooden table or the warm house or the loved ones within it. And I know more is waiting outside! How will I get anything done today with such a feast of blessings to notice, with so much thanks to give? This moment of plenty requires me to rest, to digest.
In your presence is fullness of joy.
Happy Thanksgiving from all of us at Here & Now. We’re thankful for you.
Listening into Advent
Join us for a Quiet Day to Prepare Our Hearts for the Season
Rather than falling prey to the frenzied expectations of gift-giving and holiday gatherings that lose the meaning of Christmas, take this day to sit before the Holy One in quietness and rest. Whether in centering prayer or journaling, or any combination of spiritual practices, the time spent with God opens you up to enter into the season with a centered heart.
Join us beginning November 25 as Here & Now celebrates Advent and Christmas with a special series of reflections curated with you in mind. Like the Advent Calendar you enjoyed as a child, you’ll find a sweet contemplation to savor each day you open the Here & Now blog. I can smell the Christmas tree already. Debora Buerk, Editor, Here & Now
…Lift up your eyes upon This day breaking for you. Give birth again To the dream…. Here, on the pulse of this new day You may have the grace to look up and out And into your sister’s eyes, and into Your brother’s face, your country And say simply Very simply With hope— Good morning.
Maya Angelou
Thoughts from Mary
I am grateful for sabbath, even when it doesn’t turn out as you had hoped. My aspirations for the month included down time along with organizing my office, playing with friends and family, and spontaneously saying yes to whatever showed up for the day. Instead, I spent over a week in bed with Covid (and a couple more weeks of tiredness) along with grieving the loss of a dear and close friend who while struggling through her cancer seemed to be living a full life. The sabbath that I hoped would restore some strength and perspective became a time of recognizing my weakness and need for God and others.
Sabbath is not something we accomplish or acquire or strive towards. It’s a resting in what God has for us.
Mary Pandiani
And so it is that I return to the call of Selah and my other responsibilities with a bit of heavy heart and weariness. Yet, I still remain grateful, not only for sabbath in whatever form it takes but also for this day. I want to claim, as Maya Angelou does, that I can say “good morning” to today, trusting that God will provide me with what I need for this day.
Sabbath is not something we accomplish or acquire or strive towards. It’s a resting in what God has for us. And for today, all I have is today. So may you, along with me, find the voice to say “help” where help is needed, trust that God shows up even when grief feels oppressive, and lean into “good morning” as a reflection of the hope that rests in God’s abundance, not my capability or circumstance.
Pax Bonum, Mary Pandiani Executive Director Selah Center
Mary Pandiani, D.Min, serves as Selah’s Executive Director, leading the community and organization through its current transition period into future possibilities. Mary has served in various capacities for Selah, including as a founding board member, seminar/group leader, and co-facilitator for Selah’s extended programs, Living From The Heart and Way of the Heart. Mary is a spiritual director and coach, co-facilitator for a spiritual direction training program, and advisor for doctoral students. Mary received her Doctorate of Ministry at Portland Seminary, and her work focuses on a posture of contemplative living across the seasons of life. Her foundation starts with a love for the God who wants to be known and a desire to help others to pause-notice-listen-respond in ways that lead to a deeper understanding of God’s divine invitation. With the support of her husband Bill, Mary serves Selah while also enjoying her family of four adult daughters and their families. Mary lives in Gig Harbor WA where she knows the value of beauty in creation and the gift of community.
Join Mary every Friday at 10:00 AM for Kairos. It’s a time for conversation the “selah way.” Welcome friends, old and new. Kairos is open to everyone interested in learning more about Selah. Kairos meets on Zoom for an hour at 10 AM. Click Here & Now for more info.
I will be a real birder and know raptors by the shape of their wings, the span of them against wide skies, the browns and grays of their feathers, the reds and whites like specks of paint. I will look directly into the sun, point and say, those are black vultures, those are red-shouldered hawks. They fly with the thermals, updrafts, barely moving, glide their bodies along the currents, borrowing speed from the wind. I will know other raptors, sharp-shinned hawk, the Cooper’s hawk, the ones that flap their wings and move their bodies during the day. The merlins, the peregrine falcons, soaring like bullets through blue steel, cutting the winds looking for rabbits, groundhogs that will not live past talons and claws. I will know the size of their bones, the weight of their beaks. I will remember the curves, the colors of their oval, yellow eyes. I will have the measurements, the data that live inside their bodies like a secret taunting me to find its guts. Or this is what I tell myself.
But, I am a bad birder. I care little about the exact rate of a northern goshawk’s flight speed. I do not need to know how many pounds of food an American kestrel eats in winter. I have no interest in the feather types on a turkey vulture. I have looked up and forgotten these facts again and again and again. They float out of my mind immediately. What I remember: my breathless body as I look into the wildness above, raptors flying, diving, stooping, bodies of light, talismans, incantations, dust of the gods. Creatures of myth, they hang in the sky like questions. They promise nothing, indifferent to everything but death. Still, still, I catch myself gasping, neck craned up, follow the circles they build out of sky, reach for their brutal mystery, the alien spark of more.
(Helpful to read out loud if you don’t listen to the audio)
A poem touches each of us a bit differently, yet the same – a moment of encounter in the imagination that reaches deep within us. The bold italics indicate what captures me from what the Allegheny College professor and poet, M. Soledad Caballero offers. To hear these words read by the Irish poet Pádraig Ó Tuama further enhances the resonance I experience in the listening.
Walking along a slough bordering Camano Island, I witness a flock of herons, or the proper group name siege, hurling into the sky when Caballero’s words speak to me “what I remember: my breathless body as I look into the wildness above.…” In that moment, I hear my own thoughts that there is a wildness that runs through my own remembering and breathless body. It’s contemplation. That’s how the contemplative life engages my heart and soul and mind.
Analogous to the poet, I forget all the knowledge of what makes a birder a birder. For me, it’s the contemplative life. I want to live contemplatively, but I forget. I’m a “bad” contemplative in the sense that I fall and rise again, fall and rise again. I try harder, only to fall down again. The knowledge of what it means to be contemplative is helpful. But it quickly flies out of my head, especially in my greatest need.
My longing suggests that I want to know more, but seeking knowledge in the way of information lacks the power to transform my engagement with the world, others, God, even my own life. There is an “alien spark of more” when it comes to the contemplative life. I want to encounter more, go deeper more where wonder and curiosity generates movement and engages mystery.
As the poet seeks to know more about the birds, she recognizes they capture her heart not by the important details that she can learn, but how they live in the world. Witnessing their flight brings about questions, hopes and fears, stories of mythological gravitas. Interestingly, she does know quite a bit about the birds. Yet she longs for something more.
For me, I too learn about God, and want to know more about Divine Holy Mystery. But how quickly the energy in engaging God dissipates if I only stay in the grasping of intellectual attainment for what I think I need. My encounter with the Divine requires, demands, invites me into something that goes beyond my thinking. In the wonder and colorful mystery of who God is, I find a depth crystalizing the beauty of encounter. The crystalizing depth becomes a way of remembering. It is there that I see God move in and through my being so that when I do fall, or am a “bad” contemplative, I am not alone.
Perhaps the remembering is the spark for knowing birds, for knowing what is unknowable.
By Mary Pandiani Executive Director Selah Center
Mary Pandiani, D.Min, serves as Selah’s Executive Director, leading the community and organization through its current transition period into future possibilities. Mary has served in various capacities for Selah, including as a founding board member, seminar/group leader, and co-facilitator for Selah’s extended programs, Living From The Heart and Way of the Heart. Mary is a spiritual director and coach, co-facilitator for a spiritual direction training program, and advisor for doctoral students. Mary received her Doctorate of Ministry at Portland Seminary, and her work focuses on a posture of contemplative living across the seasons of life. Her foundation starts with a love for the God who wants to be known and a desire to help others to pause-notice-listen-respond in ways that lead to a deeper understanding of God’s divine invitation. With the support of her husband Bill, Mary serves Selah while also enjoying her family of four adult daughters and their families. Mary lives in Gig Harbor WA where she knows the value of beauty in creation and the gift of community.
https://selahcenter.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/06/clayton-malquist-PWF_DHj76EQ-unsplash-scaled.jpg16002560Mary Pandianihttps://selahcenter.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/05/SELAH_FINAL.pngMary Pandiani2022-06-27 06:00:002022-06-26 21:21:26Am I Really a Contemplative?
May all the love you lavish come back to you in a glittery filled
bright ball of sunshine
As you have loved and cried and screamed and ached and nursed wounds in your children and — friends
May all of this come flooding back to you in your time of need.
May it speak directly and clearly to your soul.
You dear one are safe
You are loved
You are known
You are not alone
You are held
You matter
All of you — All your story matters
All of you
is safe —and held here
Jeffrey part of the Selah Community
https://selahcenter.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/06/kulli-kittus-KQfxVDHGCUg-unsplash-scaled.jpg17092560Selah Centerhttps://selahcenter.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/05/SELAH_FINAL.pngSelah Center2022-06-13 06:00:372022-06-13 20:19:10Mystery of Suffering
I was in the woods at 8 tonight it was similarly quiet, and they were singing here too
I did not feel joy nor peace
I asked to the Divine to offer grace, tender love, comfort to 21 families tonight
in Texas whose lives were shattered today
I’m so glad I quit Facebook otherwise I’d be ranting at guns and conservatives
Somehow, there is a way to walk in the absolute terror in this world
Hold the space with injustice and cruelty ……
While aiming my own pathway toward peace
I feel unable to do this
And …. the Divine?
She will light the way
By Jeffrey, Selah Community
https://selahcenter.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/05/mike-labrum-fvl4b1gjpbk-unsplash-scaled.jpg17072560Selah Centerhttps://selahcenter.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/05/SELAH_FINAL.pngSelah Center2022-05-30 19:18:252022-06-06 12:21:29To Uvalde in Memoriam
I was in the desert, in the depths of the Grand Canyon of Grief. It was hot, dry, miserable. The walls of these cliffs are brown, sand, and burnt orange colors. I am walking and walking. Did I mention it’s hot, like 105? There is no clear path for me to follow—I don’t know where I’m going or where I will end up?
Lonely, exhausted needing some fuel, where will my help come from?
There is a watering can close by. I reach for it and try to read the word on the side.
S E L A H
I’ve not seen this word before. Opening the can I sniff inside, hmmmm, seems like water. I drink. It is ice cold, has ice cubes even! My body, my soul yells “Thank You!!” for the sustenance—didn’t even realize how much I needed this. Though I’m taking several long drinks—there’s more in the can. Where’s it coming from, I wonder?
For the first time in hours, I sit. My eyes see plants near me, cacti, mesquite, acacia, this question presses in on me—how do they get their water?
What I know is this. That can of water, sacred water, is left here for me. It speaks a language I can understand.
This miracle happened to me in 2017.
Today, in a moment of deep listening with an elder, wisdom revealed to me that Selah water has seeds within itself. Once ingested, these will sprout, only some of them.
A generous, overflowing love, a new way of being might emerge in a person.
I am that person.
These days I wander into the desert, filling up watering cans with Selah water. The next person who comes by this way, if they have eyes to see, if their journey has grief and deep pain, thirst will overwhelm. They will find this rusty weathered watering can, the letters on its side fading.
Their first drink is a surprise “how is this so cold, with ice in it, out in this heat?” Something holy beckons them to sit and rest awhile. They might wonder about this water and ask where the plants, on this barren sandy, dusty Canyon floor get their nourishment.
Rotating the can in their hands they make out the letters.
[This message was given at Kairos: Friday Morning Contemplative Gathering on April 29, 2022]
From Mary Pandiani, Selah Executive Director
Easter has come and gone for many. And yet, looking at the church liturgical calendar, we’re still in Eastertide, namely the 40-days before the Ascension of Christ Jesus takes place. These 40-days and Ascension are part of the story called the Paschal Mystery – a living remembrance of Christ Jesus’ life, death, resurrection, the Ascension (the rising from earth to be with God), that culminates with Pentecost (the unleashing of the Holy Spirit). The connection to the celebration of the Old Testament Passover reminds us of the lamb whose blood protects the Israelites who finally leave Egypt, leading them to freedom from slavery.
We’re called into this Paschal Mystery where we’re connected to the story as well. Our lives operate out of a Paschal Mystery – a life, death, and new life rhythm in the everyday and final death of our lives. That means we’re participating, in intentional and unintentional ways, with the 40-days and Ascension. We, like the disciples and followers of Christ Jesus, don’t quite understand the resurrection, yet want to believe in hope, that it brings changes in us and our relationship with God. The stories include walking the road to Emmaus, eating breakfast with the disciples, doubting and believing with Thomas who wants to see the wounds of Jesus. Confusion, joy, despondency, loss of faith, gaining faith, amazed, hope, and deep longing. These are the mundane and miraculous ways Christ Jesus enters into our world, different but the same, as a result of the resurrection. All of these emotions and new realities occur within the 40-days, inviting us to consider the change that has taken place.
Is that not like how change impacts us, especially the one where there is resurrection – a new power of and in life? We are grateful, excited, yet confused and dazed by the reality before us. We hold hope while wondering what’s next. When my youngest daughter left home for the first time at 13 years old (she decided she wanted to go to a boarding school – ask me about that story sometime), I held promise for her in the new experience, yet deep loss in no longer having her around. I was both faith-filled and faith-less. The liminal space of the unknown, yet newness, felt both awkward and comforting. How was I to enter into this change?
It’s in these places that lead to the Ascension where we ask the question of transformation: what do I need to let go of in order to experience new life to its fullest? Jesus tells the disciples that he must leave; he even goes on to say it will be better that he leaves. In his leaving, he offers something more. Or as Ronald Rolheiser suggests, “Ascension is to refuse to cling to what once was, let it go, and let it bless you, so that you can recognize the new life you already have with and within you and receive its spirit.”[1] There is new life in leaving, as counter-intuitive as that may sound, for that’s where new life begins.
As we live in this season of the Paschal Mystery, let us ask ourselves, what do we need to let go of in order that new life may arise? If we desire change and transformation, how we can move towards it, rather than cower away? Can we receive the spirit of life, revealed in these changes, that brings deeper and more meaningful encounters with God, with others, and with ourselves? Let us consider the invitation that the Ascension is asking of us.
The ascension deepens intimacy by giving us precisely a new presence, a deeper, richer one, but one which can only come about if our former way of being present is taken away. Ronald Rolheiser[2]
https://selahcenter.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/05/Screen-Shot-2022-05-07-at-6.49.22-PM-e1651974963804.png1004796Mary Pandianihttps://selahcenter.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/05/SELAH_FINAL.pngMary Pandiani2022-05-09 11:34:362022-05-09 11:34:36Living in the Paschal Mystery: Leading to Ascension
As a protestant, I had heard of the Stations of the Cross but didn’t know anything about it until I decided to investigate it this year.
The Stations of the Cross or the Way of the Cross, also known as the Way of Sorrows or the Via Crucis, refers to a series of images depicting Jesus Christ on the day of his crucifixion and accompanying prayers. The stations grew out of imitations of the Via Dolorosa in Jerusalem, which is a traditional processional route symbolizing the actual path Jesus walked to Mount Calvary. The objective of the stations is to help the Christian faithful to make a spiritual pilgrimage through contemplation of the Passion Story of Christ. It’s one of the most popular devotions and the stations can be found in many Western Christian churches, including Anglican, Lutheran, Methodist,and Roman Catholic.
The Stations of the Cross originated in pilgrimage to Jerusalem and a desire to reproduce the Via Dolorosa. Imitating holy places was not a new concept. For example, the religious complex of Santo Stefano in Bologna, Italy, replicated the Church of the Holy Sepulchre and other sacred sites, including the Mount of Olives and Valley of Josaphat.
Usually, a series of fourteen images will be arranged in numbered order along a path, and the faithful travel from image to image, in order, stopping at each station to say the selected prayers and reflections. This is done individually or in a procession usually on Good Friday, in a spirit of reparation for the sufferings and insults that Jesus endured during his crucifixion. As a physical devotion involving standing, kneeling, and genuflections, the Stations of the Cross are tied with the Christian themes of repentance and mortification of the flesh.
The fourteen Stations of the Cross
Jesus is condemned to death
Jesus carries his cross
Jesus falls the first time
Jesus meets his mother
Simon of Cyrene helps Jesus carry the cross
Veronica wipes the face of Jesus
Jesus falls the second time
Jesus meets the women of Jerusalem
Jesus falls the third time
Jesus’ clothes are taken away
Jesus is nailed to the cross
Jesus dies on the cross
Jesus is taken down from the cross
Jesus is laid in the tomb.
The style, form, and placement of the stations vary widely. The typical stations are small plaques with reliefs or paintings placed around a church nave. Modern minimalist stations can be simple crosses with a numeral in the center. Occasionally the faithful might say the stations of the cross without there being any image, such as when the pope leads the stations of the cross around the Colosseum in Rome on Good Friday.
Protestant puzzlement
Obviously, as a Protestant, I was puzzled about station six. Who was Veronica? According to Catholic tradition, Veronica was a pious woman of Jerusalem who was moved with pity upon seeing Jesus carrying his cross to Golgotha. As Jesus passed, Veronica wiped his faith. A miracle occurred when an impression of Jesus’s face was left upon the cloth called The Veil of Veronica.
And, I never knew that Jesus fell three times as featured in stations three, seven, and nine.
How protestants can pray the Stations of the Cross
In 1991, Pope John Paul II introduced “Scriptural or Biblical Stations of the Cross.” These fourteen stations are tied to scriptures from the Passion story in the gospels.
Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane (Matthew 26:36-41)
Jesus is betrayed by Judas and arrested (Mark 14:43-46)
Jesus is condemned by the Sanhedrin (Luke 22:66-71)
Jesus is denied by Peter (Matthew 26:69-75)
Jesus is judged by Pilate (Mark 15:1-5, 15)
Jesus is scourged and crowned with thorns (John 19:1-3)
Jesus takes up his cross (John 19:6, 15-17)
Jesus is helped by Simon to carry his cross (Mark 15:21)
Jesus meets the women of Jerusalem (Luke 23:27-31)
Jesus is crucified (Luke 23:33-34)
Jesus promises his kingdom to the repentant thief (Luke 23:39-43)
Jesus entrusts Mary and John to each other (John 19:25-27)
Jesus dies on the cross (Luke 23:44-46)
Jesus is laid in the tomb (Matthew 27:57-60)
The Stations of the Cross
You might try meditating on these scriptures at each station. You can use the artwork below.
If you want to pray the stations using the scriptures listed above, there are lots of resources online:
Written resources
Prayer apps
YouTube videos
Podcasts
The next time you wear a necklace with featuring a cross, I hope you’ll remember the Passion Story and the Stations of the Cross. May you find Holy Week this year meaningful with the Stations of the Cross on Good Friday.
by Debora Buerk Editor Here & Now Selah Community
Sources
“Experimental Theology” blog by Richard Beck, March 28, 2022 Wikipedia
https://selahcenter.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/04/1d766201-a15e-4d0f-9666-dc3c2d72fe18_1_105_c.jpeg7241086Selah Centerhttps://selahcenter.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/05/SELAH_FINAL.pngSelah Center2022-04-09 08:00:002022-04-09 08:00:00Praying Stations of the Cross, a Primer for Protestants
While doing research for my doctoral dissertation awhile back, one nugget I continue to use is the gift of creative genius that by putting two-three ideas together, named by Einstein as “combinatory play,”[1] you create a new idea. Similar to cooking or baking, adding two or more different ingredients than required, you create your own new recipe. My friend, Lisa, makes new dishes nearly every night with her creativity by combining different ingredients for a mouth-watering experience. We all have this gift of creative genius by simply attending to what has been given to us in each day, combining that which seems unconnected, then somehow together creates a new idea, or at the very least a fresh idea.
I had a “combinatory play” experience today while listening to the story of Jacob, the son of Isaac, brother to Esau, in the Old Testament. It goes like this: Jacob steals the birthright of his older brother, causes a great rift in the family, leaves with nothing other than the promise that comes with a birthright. He goes to Bethel where he spends the night on the first night of his journey. He takes a stone as a pillow, and after falling asleep, he dreams of a ladder (some may recall the childhood song, “We are climbing Jacob’s Ladder”). It’s a place where heaven and earth touch. In the dream, God offers this promise:
14 Your descendants shall be like the dust of the earth and shall extend to the west and the east, the north and the south. All the nations of the earth shall be blessed through you and through your descendants. 15I am with you and I will protect you wherever you go. I will make you return to this country, for I will not abandon you without having done all that I have promised you.” Genesis 28
This is where the connection between two different stories – two different ideas – begin to merge.
The other story is Jesus in the wilderness, in a place of temptation, solitude, and questions by the devil who wants to distract, lead astray, cause Jesus to betray the Father, Creator God. In particular with the second question, the proposal is this:
5 Then the devil took Jesus to the holy city, Jerusalem, and he had Jesus stand at the very highest point in the holy temple. Devil:6 If You are the Son of God, jump! And then we will see if You fulfill the Scripture that says, “He will command His heavenly messengers concerning You, and the messengers will buoy You in their hands so that You will not crash, or fall, or even graze Your foot on a stone.” Jesus:7 That is not the only thing Scripture says. It also says, “Do not put the Eternal One, your God, to the test.” Matt 4
According to Henri Nouwen, this temptation addresses the “desire to be spectacular” when the devil invites Jesus “jump,” to stand out among everyone else.[2] In fact, scripture is used to back up the suggestion to prove himself, surely there is nothing wrong to see if God will bring to pass what God promises. Indeed Jesus does stand out, but it’s not because he is seeking to stand out. He seeks something else.
That’s when the two ideas emerge. Placing Jacob’s experience alongside Jesus’ temptation, both stories are about encounter and seeking, granted of different kinds, that occur in isolation, only rocks for pillows, and discovering that God is present. And it’s about promises. It’s about what God will do, not what we set out to do. The discernment in these stories is not about jumping, becoming spectacular, or all the grains of sand as the number of descendants. It’s about meeting God in the places we find ourselves.
These encounters in both Jacob’s seeking and Jesus’ experience reflect the real promise. God doesn’t promise that life will happen as we want or expect. In fact, it usually doesn’t. Rather, as we witness the discovery of Jacob and the response of Jesus to the devil, there is a promise of presence, one that Jacob recognizes as more valuable than all the eventual descendants.
16 The dream ended, and Jacob woke up from his sleep. Jacob (to himself): There is no doubt in my mind that the Eternal One is in this place— and I didn’t even know it! 17 But even as he said this, a bit of fear came over him. Jacob: This place is absolutely awesome! It can be none other than the house of God and the gateway into heaven! Genesis 28
Jacob finds God where God finds Jacob, in his solitude and questions, in the life he has been given, not the one that he thinks he wants. Jesus also meets God as he understands the “Eternal one in this place” as the one to whom he trusts, not in the proving of who is he. Jacob begins to recognize the sacred moment and place where God meets him. For Jesus, he lives out of God’s presence, in the solitude and questions, an ongoing filling by the One who loves him.
And for us, combinatory play – the creative genius given to us by the Creator – means we get to join in this reality that God invites us to also be present in God’s presence.
