By Traci Rhoades
I’m captivated by a place I’ve not seen with my own eyes. Yet, I don’t recall a time when I didn’t have an image of this ancient path in my imagination.
With varying degrees of participation, most Christians take the same spiritual trek I do, down what is known as the Via Dolorosa, or “Way of Suffering,” during Holy Week. For those who observe the Lenten season, the 40 days leading up
to Easter Sunday, excluding Sundays, there might be additional times of reflection on this route that still exists in Jerusalem today.
Based on Gospel recordings and later Christian accounts, pilgrims have traditionally journeyed along 14 “Stations of the Cross,” including the “Seven Falls of Christ.” Church tradition holds Mary herself would regularly trace her Son’s route to Calvary.
St. Jerome (c. 342-420), who lived for some time in Bethlehem, writes about pilgrims who traveled to the Via Dolorosa. For a delightful book on these kind of pilgrimages, I highly recommend Three Thousand Miles to Jesus by author Lisa Deam.
In the Middle Ages, a service emerged that prayerfully led participants who could not travel to the Holy Land through the Stations of the Cross in their local churches. Eventually, the Franciscans were dubbed guardians of these stations, and participants could obtain a plenary indulgence.
Today, it has become a popular way to reflect on the death of Christ, with a number of churches offering some variation of a Stations of the Cross service. Protestant churches will often do a simplified version using those eight stations that mirror Gospel accounts.
While I’ve never encountered the Via Dolorosa in person, these stations have long been part of my devotional journey toward Resurrection Sunday.
Alongside many other American evangelicals, I can attribute my first real encounter with this sacred way to Max Lucado. In the beautifully illustrated book, The Final Week of Jesus, I read about Good Friday, and how Jesus walked to Calvary, among other key moments the week leading up to the crucifixion. I credit many of the images in my imagination to the artistic renderings found in this book.
My first introduction to a traditional Stations of the Cross service happened again through books, and eventually I grew curious enough to actually attend one. I took my daughter, who was around eight or nine years old at the time, to an Episcopal church in Grand Rapids on Good Friday one year.
We joined up with a small group, and the priest led us around the perimeter of the sanctuary, from station to station, framed images that hung year-round on the walls. As guests, they were especially kind to us, making room for my daughter, the youngest and shortest in our crowd, to be in the front so she could easily see at each station.
A few years later, we attended a Catholic church service where their school children acted out each station. What an impact that had on us, watching the scenes come to life. I trust it made a lasting impact on the young thespians as well.
One summer, we were camping up north, and happened upon a Catholic shrine called Cross in the Woods, located along Indian River. Once again, our feet participated in the stations, but this time on a self-guided trek, along a beautiful wooded trail, with plaques on metal stands explaining each stop.
This year, for the first time, my daughter and I will encounter the stations in another new way. For almost 10 months now, we’ve attended Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults (RCIA) classes at a local Catholic church. Our group has been tasked with leading a Friday afternoon service during Lent. My daughter and I are responsible for a read-and-response at four of the stations.
We’ll lead the gathered group through the following:
Station 3 - The first [of seven] times Jesus falls. A Bible verse commonly attributed to this station is Psalm 38:6: “I am bowed down and brought very low; all day long I go about mourning.”
Station 4 - When Jesus meets his mother on the path. While this exact moment is not mentioned explicitly in the Gospels, John 19:25 includes her in the list of women near him at the cross. Tradition teaches us she followed from a distance the entire way.
Station 12 - The historical moment when Jesus breathes his last breath (Matthew 27:50).
Station 13 - When Jesus is taken down from the cross (Acts 13:29).
I look forward to this communal time of reflection on the road Jesus walked all those years ago. It’s a wonder to me that I’ve gone from attendee to participant in this prayer service I didn’t even know about as a child.
Indeed, I feel as if I’ve taken my place even more fully among those “great cloud of witnesses surrounding us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God (Hebrews 12:1-2).” Moments like this are just one of numerous ways I’ve felt like my deep dive into church history and tradition have come full circle.
No, I’ve not physically placed my feet on the cobbled stones of Via Dolorosa yet, perhaps in this lifetime I never will, but with each passing year, I feel spiritually closer to doing so.
—————
Traci Rhoades is an author and Bible teacher who lives with her husband and daughter in West Michigan.
I’m captivated by a place I’ve not seen with my own eyes. Yet, I don’t recall a time when I didn’t have an image of this ancient path in my imagination.
With varying degrees of participation, most Christians take the same spiritual trek I do, down what is known as the Via Dolorosa, or “Way of Suffering,” during Holy Week. For those who observe the Lenten season, the 40 days leading up
to Easter Sunday, excluding Sundays, there might be additional times of reflection on this route that still exists in Jerusalem today.
Based on Gospel recordings and later Christian accounts, pilgrims have traditionally journeyed along 14 “Stations of the Cross,” including the “Seven Falls of Christ.” Church tradition holds Mary herself would regularly trace her Son’s route to Calvary.
St. Jerome (c. 342-420), who lived for some time in Bethlehem, writes about pilgrims who traveled to the Via Dolorosa. For a delightful book on these kind of pilgrimages, I highly recommend Three Thousand Miles to Jesus by author Lisa Deam.
In the Middle Ages, a service emerged that prayerfully led participants who could not travel to the Holy Land through the Stations of the Cross in their local churches. Eventually, the Franciscans were dubbed guardians of these stations, and participants could obtain a plenary indulgence.
Today, it has become a popular way to reflect on the death of Christ, with a number of churches offering some variation of a Stations of the Cross service. Protestant churches will often do a simplified version using those eight stations that mirror Gospel accounts.
While I’ve never encountered the Via Dolorosa in person, these stations have long been part of my devotional journey toward Resurrection Sunday.
Alongside many other American evangelicals, I can attribute my first real encounter with this sacred way to Max Lucado. In the beautifully illustrated book, The Final Week of Jesus, I read about Good Friday, and how Jesus walked to Calvary, among other key moments the week leading up to the crucifixion. I credit many of the images in my imagination to the artistic renderings found in this book.
My first introduction to a traditional Stations of the Cross service happened again through books, and eventually I grew curious enough to actually attend one. I took my daughter, who was around eight or nine years old at the time, to an Episcopal church in Grand Rapids on Good Friday one year.
We joined up with a small group, and the priest led us around the perimeter of the sanctuary, from station to station, framed images that hung year-round on the walls. As guests, they were especially kind to us, making room for my daughter, the youngest and shortest in our crowd, to be in the front so she could easily see at each station.
A few years later, we attended a Catholic church service where their school children acted out each station. What an impact that had on us, watching the scenes come to life. I trust it made a lasting impact on the young thespians as well.
One summer, we were camping up north, and happened upon a Catholic shrine called Cross in the Woods, located along Indian River. Once again, our feet participated in the stations, but this time on a self-guided trek, along a beautiful wooded trail, with plaques on metal stands explaining each stop.
This year, for the first time, my daughter and I will encounter the stations in another new way. For almost 10 months now, we’ve attended Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults (RCIA) classes at a local Catholic church. Our group has been tasked with leading a Friday afternoon service during Lent. My daughter and I are responsible for a read-and-response at four of the stations.
We’ll lead the gathered group through the following:
Station 3 - The first [of seven] times Jesus falls. A Bible verse commonly attributed to this station is Psalm 38:6: “I am bowed down and brought very low; all day long I go about mourning.”
Station 4 - When Jesus meets his mother on the path. While this exact moment is not mentioned explicitly in the Gospels, John 19:25 includes her in the list of women near him at the cross. Tradition teaches us she followed from a distance the entire way.
Station 12 - The historical moment when Jesus breathes his last breath (Matthew 27:50).
Station 13 - When Jesus is taken down from the cross (Acts 13:29).
I look forward to this communal time of reflection on the road Jesus walked all those years ago. It’s a wonder to me that I’ve gone from attendee to participant in this prayer service I didn’t even know about as a child.
Indeed, I feel as if I’ve taken my place even more fully among those “great cloud of witnesses surrounding us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God (Hebrews 12:1-2).” Moments like this are just one of numerous ways I’ve felt like my deep dive into church history and tradition have come full circle.
No, I’ve not physically placed my feet on the cobbled stones of Via Dolorosa yet, perhaps in this lifetime I never will, but with each passing year, I feel spiritually closer to doing so.
—————
Traci Rhoades is an author and Bible teacher who lives with her husband and daughter in West Michigan.
