The Way of the Cross through Mary's Eyes
Mary stood in the midst of the crowd, waiting to hear her son's fate. "Crucify Him!" She heard them shout. 'No!' She thought. Mary knew it had been coming, but still she did not want to accept it. Jesus had told her many times of his coming death, and she knew it had to be but…he was so young…He was still her baby boy! Standing there, her hands twisting around each other, she continued to wait, to hear what Pilate would say. Then the dreaded words reached her ears. "This man will be scourged, and then crucified on Golgotha. Release Barabbas." At that Mary fell to her knees, unable to bear what she had just heard. S he had to be with her son, suffer with him. Console him.' Fighting through Mary tried to reach him, but she was too late. Jesus was already being dragged off by the guards. There was nothing she could do…
After enduring much torture and humiliation at her son's expense Mary almost thought it was too much, but she had to stay. She would never abandon Jesus! Moving towards the now crowded streets she saw him. The white garment around him was now stained red. With blood. Her son's blood. His face was almost unrecognizable it was so covered with scars and scourge marks. As Jesus moved she almost couldn't handle the site. Skin was peeling of his back and all around his body. And now he was going to carry a cross on it. Mary longed so to help him, to carry it for him. As she watched Jesus pick the tree up and lift it onto his shoulders, the sword in her heart dug deeper. The words that she had first spoken concerning Jesus came back to her. "Let it be done to me according to your will." That was what Jesus was doing. God's will, and there was nothing she could do. It had to happen she knew, but it still pained her to great ends to endure.
Mary slowly walked, pushed along by the crowd of people that was surrounding her. Mary Magdalene on her left and John on her right…were the only reasons Mary was still standing. Her tear stained face was pointed forward, her eyes never leaving her son. Her precious son. 'Flesh of my flesh... Heart of my heart... My son let me die with you!' This was the main thought that came to Mary's mind as she walked on, behind Jesus. The wind started to pick up as the morning grew late. They still hadn't reached Calvary and Jesus had already fallen once. Mary felt helpless, like a sword still was piercing her heart in many places, but she would never die. The sight of her boy, her only one dying was paining her more than anyone could ever imagine. Mary needed to comfort him.
Up ahead she could see him with more clarity now. He was growing ever more weary. He had already fallen once, and she knew that he would never make it the whole way. It was just too much, even for her son. Earlier she had tried to run to him, but the guards had stopped her. This time Mary was determined. She had to get to her son. She had to touch him, to see him. Keeping her eyes fixed Mary let go of John. Tears now starting to form she sprinted around towards Jesus. Upon reaching him she collapsed, grasping his face in her hands. "I'm here. I'm here my son, my love, my lord. I am here my baby boy." Was all she could muster, but there was so much more she wanted to tell him. Mary wanted to spend more time with him, but the problem was…there was none. When their eyes met all she could do was stare. Seconds went by in which they did not speak, just looked.
After minutes, which seemed like only mere seconds to Mary, the guards pushed her roughly away. Mary groped for her son, to stay with him but she was denied. As she felt John's solid arms around her Mary fell into him, not being able to do anything else. She could feel John's grip tighten on her as if he knew she could not stand on her own. Closing her eyes she thought of Jesus. She remembered when he was little. She remembered when he fell, how she used to catch him. Mary thought about how she couldn't do that now. This realization hurt her more than anything…
As they moved on Mary clung to John, her eyes fixed, far away. He's my son. Why is this happening to my son? Mary thought to herself, even though she knew the answer perfectly well. Her son was also God's son and it was said he would save the world. That was what he was doing. God was sacrificing his son, her son for the sake of the people around her. The sinners around her. Suddenly, Mary saw a woman push through the crowd and go forward. Surprisingly she pushed through the guards and went to Jesus. Taking a cloth the woman wiped his face, his dirty, blood stained face. After a minute she removed it and we both gasped. Jesus' face was clearly imprinted on the woman's cloth. Grasping John's arm Mary almost fainted, but kept her head. She had to…Taking a deep breath she took a step forward nodding at the woman, whom she learned was Veronica as she passed.
Mary continued on behind Jesus in the midst of the crowd. She watched as he took crumbling step after step and eventually fell yet again. As her son hit the hard, dirt rocks she placed her hand on her heart. He was in so much pain, and this time he didn't get up as quickly. Mary's arm stretched uselessly out for him, pinning to hold him, comfort him in her arms. Suddenly a guard plucked a man out of the crowd. This man, who she later learned was Simon, was ordered to help her son carry his cross. The man was not happy about it, but obeyed for she assumed he was scared of what would happen if he didn't. Jesus then continued on, now not alone…and Mary followed as well not alone.
A few yards up in the crowd there was a clump of women. Her heart grieved for them because they looked almost as bad as she. The only difference was they did not know the answers in which she did. As Mary watched Jesus go on not to her surprise he stopped in front of these same women that she had been previously thinking about. Reaching out his hand to them he consoled them saying, "Daughters of Jerusalem. Do not weep for me, but weep for yourselves and your children." The woman kept sobbing, but of what Mary could see, they understood.
Jesus' third fall was the worst and the hardest to bear. Under the weight of cross he collapsed spread eagle to the ground. Mary thought he was dead for sure, but the guards forced him up. After that there was only a little further to go until Jesus got to the top of the hill. When he reached it Jesus was not given a break. He was forcibly ripped of the little clothing he had and thrown down. The guards stretched her son's arms across the length of the pieces of wood. Taking a nail they placed it against his skin. Mary's eyes widened and she sank at the thought of something that horrible being plunged into Jesus' flesh. Gripping the stones under her Mary clenched her hands into fists as the hammer went down. Flinching at the sound she watched the expression of horror and pain on her son's face. The soldiers hammered the nail into his hand then moved to the next. It was the same routine, but double the pain. As the gigantic nail sunk through his skin AND through the wood Mary almost couldn't handle it. Seeing the blood, the torture was indescribable. As she watched Mary suddenly felt John came to her and took her in. Mary felt his arms around her, sheltering her from the scene and she willingly gave in, burying her head into his bosom.
At last the guards were done, and Jesus' hands and feet were nailed. Lifting up the cross the guards placed it in the socket that it was meant to go in. Upon doing so Mary saw her son's body lurch forward, hanging now against the wood. Closing her eyes Mary whispered, "My Son... when, where, how... will you choose to be delivered of this" Opening them again Mary stood, taking a step forward.
Hours passed and Mary did not move. Her eyes always on her son she stared at him, hanging there. The soldiers ridiculed him saying "Get yourself down from that cross!" They betted on his clothing and auctioned them off to each other. "Father forgive them. They know not what they have done." He said. After a little more time went by, Mary could see the last minutes were coming close. It was getting late and the clouds were rolling in, blackening the sky. Mary eyes filled with tears as she went to him, wanting to say goodbye. "Mother behold your son." Jesus told her pointing to John. Coming forward Mary felt her "new son" by her side. "Son, behold your mother." He told him. At of the corner of her eye she could see John nod. Looking sorrowfully up at him a sob, one that had wanted to get out this whole horrid day, finally escaped her lips. Grasping his bloody feet Mary kissed them, feeling his skin against hers one last time.
"Mother - do not cry for me. All of this is exactly how it's supposed to be. This is not the end...I am making all things new again." Jesus told her. Looking up he took in another shallow gulp of air. "Father into your hands I commend my spirit!" He said. Then her son took his final breath and his head fell. Mary's heart sank as the "sword" went completely through. The feeling was too awful for words as she watched him take his last breathe then die. To watch someone she loved die… 'He's gone…. He has gone up to his eternal father.' She thought.
She knew he was gone, but the soldiers didn't believe it. Mary watched as they went to break his legs. Gasping she stared at them, but just as they went to strike, the earth shook. Mary leaned against John for support, but as soon as it had come it was over. Looking to one another the soldiers nodded to each other than one took his spear and plunged it. The soldier ran it through Jesus' side. Mary winced as they did, but also was amazed because not just blood came out of her son. Water too came pouring out on top of them. Amazed the solider ran away and she was left alone. It took a while to get him down from the cross, but when he was unnailed and unhinged…he was in her arms. Mary stroked Jesus' forehead, gently removing the bloody crown of thorns. "My son…My son…Why did you not let me die with you…" She whispered, kissing him one last time, cradling his lifeless body in her arms. Mary stayed there, with Jesus until it was finished, and now it was. Now it was time for her to say goodbye and that she did…
Mary knew her son would come again. She knew that he would rise and come for her. All she had to do now was wait for that time. Wait for the time that she would hold him again.