STATIONS OF THE CROSS

The word “station” comes from Latin and means “to stand.” The stations of the cross have historically invited people to stand in front of individual moments that made up Christ’s journey to the cross. They are a chance to pause, reflect, pray and worship.

This online experience is much the same. The readings, artwork and music are offered for you to once again revisit the passion of Jesus.

Click on any of the images in the gallery to jump to a particular station, or simply scroll down for a continuous experience.

MATTHEW 26:20-30

When evening came, Jesus was reclining at the table with the Twelve. And while they were eating, he said, "I tell you the truth, one of you will betray me."  They were very sad and began to say to him one after the other, "Surely not I, Lord?" Jesus replied, "The one who has dipped his hand into the bowl with me will betray me. The Son of Man will go just as it is written about him. But woe to that man who betrays the Son of Man! It would be better for him if he had not been born." 

Then Judas, the one who would betray him, said, "Surely not I, Rabbi?" Jesus answered, "Yes, it is you."  

While they were eating, Jesus took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to his disciples, saying, "Take and eat; this is my body."  Then he took the cup, gave thanks and offered it to them, saying, "Drink from it, all of you. This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins. I tell you, I will not drink of this fruit of the vine from now on until that day when I drink it anew with you in my Father's kingdom." 

When they had sung a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives.

THE LAST SUPPER

They are assembled, astounded, bewildered,
round him who, like a sage centered at last,
withdraws from those to whom he once belonged
and flows beyond them as some foreigner.
The former solitude comes over him
which raised him to perform his profound acts;
again he’ll wander in the olive grove,
and those who love him will now run from him.

He summons them to the final meal
and (as a shot shoos birds from sheaves)
he shoos their hands from bread
with his word: they flutter up to him;
they flap about the table anxiously
searching for some way out. But he,
like an evening hour, is everywhere.

RAINER MARIA RILKE

FRIENDS

One would deny him.
Two wanted his power.
One doubted his power.
Most misunderstood him.
All would abandon him.

Surely not I, Lord?
Yes.
I would never.
I don’t want to be
like those friends.

But to not be
is to not come to the table
and to miss the words,
“This is for you.”



Jeff Peabody

Father in Heaven,

Thank you for sending Jesus. Thank you for being a God who understands suffering from the inside out.

As I enter into this time of reflection, I ask that you will meet me in tangible ways. Help this old story become fresh in my ears and heart. May I leave here with a profound sense of the cost of forgiveness and the depth of your love.

Amen

MATTHEW 26:36-46

Then Jesus went with his disciples to a place called Gethsemane, and he said to them, "Sit here while I go over there and pray."  He took Peter and the two sons of Zebedee along with him, and he began to be sorrowful and troubled. Then he said to them, "My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. Stay here and keep watch with me." 

Going a little farther, he fell with his face to the ground and prayed, "My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will." 

Then he returned to his disciples and found them sleeping. "Could you men not keep watch with me for one hour?" he asked Peter. "Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the body is weak." 

He went away a second time and prayed, "My Father, if it is not possible for this cup to be taken away unless I drink it, may your will be done." 

When he came back, he again found them sleeping, because their eyes were heavy. So he left them and went away once more and prayed the third time, saying the same thing.

Then he returned to the disciples and said to them, "Are you still sleeping and resting? Look, the hour is near, and the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. Rise, let us go! Here comes my betrayer!"   

GETHSEMANE

The grass never sleeps. Or the roses.
Nor does the lily have a secret eye
that shuts until morning.

Jesus said, wait with me. But the disciples slept.
The cricket has such splendid fringe on its feet,
and it sings, have you noticed, with its whole body,
and heaven knows if it ever sleeps.
Jesus said, wait with me.

And maybe the stars did,
maybe the wind wound itself into a silver tree,
and didn't move, maybe the lake far away,
where once he walked as on a blue pavement,
lay still and waited, wild awake.

Oh the dear bodies, slumped and eye-shut,
that could not keep that vigil,
how they must have wept, so utterly human,
knowing this too must be a part of the story.

MARY OLIVER
Thirst

GARDEN

In the night of weary souls
when courage and color
have been drained away
and my once willing spirit
has given way to fear
and my broken mind
refuses to respond
and my weakened body
cannot stay awake
in the desperate hour
and the fatigue
outweighs my intentions
and my intentions
are less than pure
and I am no help to myself –

In that place I find Christ,
praying for me.

Jeff Peabody

Father in Heaven,

I am like the disciples in the garden. At times I am too tired to care,
and then when I do care I try to take matters into my own hands.

In this moment, in the garden that is my life right now,
I want to pray that your will -- not mine -- will be done.
I give you the circumstances that are most pressing in on me today.

Amen

MATTHEW 26:14-15

Then one of the Twelve—the one called Judas Iscariot—went to the chief priests and asked,
“What are you willing to give me if I deliver him over to you?”

So they counted out for him thirty pieces of silver.

LUKE 22:47-4

While he was still speaking a crowd came up, and the man who was called Judas, one of the Twelve, was leading them. He approached Jesus to kiss him, but Jesus asked him, "Judas, are you betraying the Son of Man with a kiss?" 

TRUE AND FALSE

True and False
travel
in the same circles
walk
side by side
breaking bread
together
sharing
space and time
always
almost
on the same page

Yet False
cannot hold
the clear-eyed gaze
of its constant companion
the unblinking reminder
of all it is
and is not

So it runs
escaping the
unbearable reality
to fetch Destruction
leading the way back
where it knows
True will be found
always open
and vulnerable

One last show
of feigned friendship
a fake smile
a kiss on the cheek
a knife in the back
and True is finished.

But so is False.

The once hidden lie
now exposed
in the light
of torches
it invited.



Jeff Peabody

JOHN 18:10-11, LUKE 22:51

Then Simon Peter, who had a sword, drew it and struck the high priest's servant, cutting off his right ear. (The servant's name was Malchus.) Jesus commanded Peter, "Put your sword away! Shall I not drink the cup the Father has given me?" 
And he touched the man’s ear and healed him.

MIRACLE

Yes.
It was amazing.
Jesus restoring flesh
back to normal.
Especially when you realize
it was the ear
of the servant
of the one
who wanted him dead.

Perhaps no less amazing
yet sadly necessary
is that in the midst of the chaos,
Christ has the capacity
and the willingness
to undo the serious damage
inflicted by
reckless followers
wielding swords.

May every Malchus find it so.



Jeff Peabody

LUKE 22:54-62

Then seizing him, they led him away and took him into the house of the high priest. Peter followed at a distance. But when they had kindled a fire in the middle of the courtyard and had sat down together, Peter sat down with them. A servant girl saw him seated there in the firelight. She looked closely at him and said, "This man was with him."

But he denied it. "Woman, I don't know him," he said. A little later someone else saw him and said, "You also are one of them."

"Man, I am not!" Peter replied. About an hour later another asserted, "Certainly this fellow was with him, for he is a Galilean."

Peter replied, "Man, I don't know what you're talking about!" Just as he was speaking, the rooster crowed. The Lord turned and looked straight at Peter. Then Peter remembered the word the Lord had spoken to him: "Before the rooster crows today, you will disown me three times."  And he went outside and wept bitterly.

FIRE

I am drawn
to flames that speak lies,
the promise of warmth
denied by ice floes
encasing my soul.
It is a false fire,
hollow as my own words.
They are no comfort,
these burning coals
with their acrid plumes.
Still -- I see him
and am seen
through the haze
swirling between us.
The foul, gritty smoke
cannot be blamed
for my stinging eyes
or this now
unbearable heat.



Jeff Peabody

THE LOOK

The Saviour looked on Peter. Ay, no word,
No gesture of reproach; the Heavens serene
Though heavy with armed justice, did not lean
Their thunders that way: the forsaken Lord
Looked only, on the traitor. None record
What that look was, none guess; for those who have seen
Wronged lovers loving through a death-pang keen,
Or pale-cheeked martyrs smiling to a sword,
Have missed Jehovah at the judgment-call.
And Peter, from the height of blasphemy--
'I never knew this man'--did quail and fall
As knowing straight THAT GOD; and turned free
And went out speechless from the face of all
And filled the silence, weeping bitterly.

ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING

MATTHEW 26:59-6

The chief priests and the whole Sanhedrin were looking for false evidence against Jesus so that they could put him to death. But they did not find any, though many false witnesses came forward. Finally two came forward and declared, "This fellow said, 'I am able to destroy the temple of God and rebuild it in three days.'" Then the high priest stood up and said to Jesus, "Are you not going to answer? What is this testimony that these men are bringing against you?"

But Jesus remained silent. The high priest said to him, "I charge you under oath by the living God: Tell us if you are the Christ, the Son of God." "Yes, it is as you say," Jesus replied. "But I say to all of you: In the future you will see the Son of Man sitting at the right hand of the Mighty One and coming on the clouds of heaven." 

Then the high priest tore his clothes and said, "He has spoken blasphemy! Why do we need any more witnesses? Look, now you have heard the blasphemy. What do you think?"

"He is worthy of death," they answered. Then they spit in his face and struck him with their fists. Others slapped him and said, "Prophesy to us, Christ. Who hit you?"

PRIEST

Acid words
spew from
the high priest
air hisses
and blisters
each syllable
finding its mark
an easy target

Contempt and fear
are ugly sisters
who refuse veils
judging swiftly
through hateful
blind eyes

All the while
mercy
unbidden
unspoken
unrecognized
The stern accuser
oblivious to
wordless grace
absorbing his
misplaced outrage

Another high priest
stands in the room
taking all fury
and offering
a sacrifice
of silence



Jeff Peabody

JOHN 18:28-40

Then the Jews led Jesus from Caiaphas to the palace of the Roman governor. By now it was early morning, and to avoid ceremonial uncleanness the Jews did not enter the palace; they wanted to be able to eat the Passover. So Pilate came out to them and asked, "What charges are you bringing against this man?"

"If he were not a criminal," they replied, "we would not have handed him over to you."

Pilate said, "Take him yourselves and judge him by your own law."

"But we have no right to execute anyone," the Jews objected. This happened so that the words Jesus had spoken indicating the kind of death he was going to die would be fulfilled. Pilate then went back inside the palace, summoned Jesus and asked him, "Are you the king of the Jews?"

"Is that your own idea," Jesus asked, "or did others talk to you about me?" 

"Am I a Jew?" Pilate replied. "It was your people and your chief priests who handed you over to me. What is it you have done?"

Jesus said, "My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight to prevent my arrest by the Jews. But now my kingdom is from another place." 

"You are a king, then!" said Pilate.

Jesus answered, "You are right in saying I am a king. In fact, for this reason I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone on the side of truth listens to me." 

"What is truth?" Pilate asked. With this he went out again to the Jews and said, "I find no basis for a charge against him. But it is your custom for me to release to you one prisoner at the time of the Passover. Do you want me to release 'the king of the Jews'?"

They shouted back, "No, not him! Give us Barabbas!"

Now Barabbas had taken part in a rebellion.

JESUS IS CONDEMNED TO DEATH

The very air that Pilate breathes, the voice
With which he speaks in judgment, all his powers
Of perception and discrimination, choice,
Decision, all his years, his days and hours,
His consciousness of self, his every sense,
Are given by this prisoner, freely given.
The man who stands there making no defence,
Is God. His hands are tied, His heart is open.
And he bears Pilate’s heart in his and feels
That crushing weight of wasted life. He lifts
It up in silent love. He lifts and heals.
He gives himself again with all his gifts
Into our hands. As Pilate turns away
A door swings open. This is judgment day.

MALCOLM GUITE
Sounding the Seasons

PILATE

I expected
a cleaner verdict
with lesser stakes
and fewer doubts.
My sure decision a salve
for the angry wounds
of other people’s religion.

But now
face to face,
I am unsettled
by the stillness of you,
a rock jutting from
the swirling torrent,
a clear note in the cacophony,
the Calmer of Storms.

The rabid mob
calls for your death,
while you, in turn,
call for my life:

“Everyone on the side of truth listens to me.”

What are you saying?
That cannot be.
And what is truth?

Deflected words stick
to the tough hide of my conscience
clinging to my soul,
refusing to rinse away.

It is no longer
the criminal’s future
but my own,
hanging in the balance.

The question of you
is now the question of me:
Will I wash my hands,
or let you wash my feet?

Jeff Peabody

MATTHEW 27:27-31

Then the governor's soldiers took Jesus into the Praetorium and gathered the whole company of soldiers around him. They stripped him and put a scarlet robe on him, and then twisted together a crown of thorns and set it on his head. They put a staff in his right hand and knelt in front of him and mocked him. "Hail, king of the Jews!" they said.

They spit on him, and took the staff and struck him on the head again and again. After they had mocked him, they took off the robe and put his own clothes on him. Then they led him away to crucify him.

CROWN

Artless, this made thing
this crafted piece
of raging ignorance
twisted in a jagged circle
like some barbed wire halo.

A non-coronation
the intent to humiliate
pressed down into his skull
crushing any claims of power
beneath an excruciating
lid of contempt.

But the making
is not the wearing.

In spite of themselves
unwitting soldiers
adorn him with
an insignia of truth.

Thorns
the scourge of the fall
failure’s entangling result
the pointed poison
forever lodged
beneath humanity’s skin
the unrelenting tormentor
weakening Paul
and me

Those thorns,now taken up
and resting
upon the brow of Christ.

He accepted the crown willingly
and in so doing sanctified it.

Even hate turns inside out
when worn by the author of love.



Jeff Peabody

JESUS IS GIVEN HIS CROSS

He gives himself again with all his gifts
And now we give him something in return.
He gave the earth that bears, the air that lifts,
Water to cleanse and cool, fire to burn,
And from these elements he forged the iron,
From strands of life he wove the growing wood,
He made the stones that pave the roads of Zion
He saw it all and saw that it is good.
We took his iron to edge an axe’s blade,
We took the axe and laid it to the tree,
We made a cross of all that he has made,
And laid it on the one who made us free.
Now he receives again and lifts on high
The gifts he gave and we have turned awry.

MALCOLM GUITE
Sounding the Seasons

LUKE 23:26

As they led him away, they seized Simon from Cyrene, who was on his way in from the country, and put the cross on him and made him carry it behind Jesus.

LABOR OF LOVE

History came disguised
as menial labor.
Guards unwittingly
handed sainthood
to the father of
Alexander and Rufus
as they pressed him into service,
choosing him for a brute task,
mere muscle to be exploited.

But it was salvation
he held in his hands
and the Savior’s footsteps
he followed.
Task was transformed,
faith took root,
reaching his two sons,
forever changing the legacy
of Simon of Cyrene.

Redemption starts everywhere.



Jeff Peabody

SIMON OF CYRENE CARRIES THE CROSS

In desperation on this road of tears
Bystanders and bypassers turn away
In other’s pain we face our own worst fears
And turn our backs to keep those fears at bay
Unless we are compelled as this man was
By force of arms or force of circumstance
To face and feel and carry someone’s cross
In Love’s full glare and not his backward glance.
So Simon, no disciple, still fulfilled
The calling: ‘take the cross and follow me’.
By accident his life was stalled and stilled
Becoming all he was compelled to be.
Make me, like him, your pressed man and your priest,
Your alter Christus, burdened and released.

MALCOLM GUITE
Sounding the Seasons

MATTHEW 27:33-50

They came to a place called Golgotha (which means The Place of the Skull). There they offered Jesus wine to drink, mixed with gall; but after tasting it, he refused to drink it. When they had crucified him, they divided up his clothes by casting lots.  And sitting down, they kept watch over him there. Above his head they placed the written charge against him: THIS IS JESUS, THE KING OF THE JEWS.

Two robbers were crucified with him, one on his right and one on his left. Those who passed by hurled insults at him, shaking their heads and saying, "You who are going to destroy the temple and build it in three days, save yourself! Come down from the cross, if you are the Son of God!" In the same way the chief priests, the teachers of the law and the elders mocked him. "He saved others," they said, "but he can't save himself! He's the King of Israel! Let him come down now from the cross, and we will believe in him. He trusts in God. Let God rescue him now if he wants him, for he said, 'I am the Son of God.'"

In the same way the robbers who were crucified with him also heaped insults on him. From the sixth hour until the ninth hour darkness came over all the land. About the ninth hour Jesus cried out in a loud voice, "Eloi, Eloi,  lama sabachthani?"-which means, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"
  
When some of those standing there heard this, they said, "He's calling Elijah." Immediately one of them ran and got a sponge. He filled it with wine vinegar, put it on a stick, and offered it to Jesus to drink. The rest said, "Now leave him alone. Let's see if Elijah comes to save him."

And when Jesus had cried out again in a loud voice, he gave up his spirit.

JESUS OF THE SCARS

If we have never sought you,
we seek you now;
Your eyes burn through the dark,
our only stars;
We must have sight of
thorn-pricks on your brow,
We must have you, O Jesus of the Scars.
The heavens frighten us;
they are too calm;
In all the universe we have no place.
Our wounds are hurting us;
where is the balm?
Lord Jesus, by your scars,
we know your grace.

If, when the doors are shut,
you then draw near,
Only reveal those
bloodied feet and hands;
We know today what wounds are,
have no fear;
Show us your scars,
we know you understand.

The other gods were strong;
but you were weak;
They rode, but Jesus
stumbled to a throne;
But to our wounds
only God’s wounds can speak,
And not a god has wounds,
but you alone.

EDWARD SHILLITO

JESUS DIES ON THE CROSS

The dark nails pierce him and the sky turns black
We watch him as he labours to draw breath
He takes our breath away to give it back,
Return it to it’s birth through his slow death.
We hear him struggle breathing through the pain
Who once breathed out his spirit on the deep,
Who formed us when he mixed the dust with rain
And drew us into consciousness from sleep.
His spirit and his life he breathes in all
Mantles his world in his one atmosphere
And now he comes to breathe beneath the pall
Of our pollutions, draw our injured air
To cleanse it and renew. His final breath
Breathes us, and bears us through the gates of death.

MALCOLM GUITE
Sounding the Seasons

MATTHEW 27:51

At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom.

TORN

Hanging between
Heaven and earth
shielding the sinful
from an outbreak of holy
line both separating and joining
God and humanity
now undone
torn into being The Way
a Savior woven
and ripped
like a tapestry
his very self
a shredded welcome



Jeff Peabody

Father in Heaven,

Thank you for giving us access and inviting us in.
Thank you that we can come boldly into your presence and find mercy.
Please remove the barriers in my own heart that keep me from approaching you.

Amen

LUKE 23:49

But all those who knew him, including the women who had followed him from Galilee, stood at a distance, watching these things.

GOOD FRIDAY

Am I a stone, and not a sheep,
That I can stand, O Christ,
beneath Thy cross,
To number drop by drop
Thy blood's slow loss,
And yet not weep?

Not so those women loved
 Who with exceeding grief
lamented Thee;
Not so fallen Peter
weeping bitterly;
Not so the thief was moved;

Not so the Sun and Moon
Which hid their faces
in a starless sky,
A horror of great darkness
at broad noon--
I, only I.

Yet give not o'er,
But seek Thy sheep,
true Shepherd of the flock;
Greater than Moses,
turn and look once more
And smite a rock.

CHRISTINA ROSETTI

STILL

This day
let all stand still
in silence,
in sorrow.

Sun and moon
be still.

Earth
be still.

Still
the waters.

Still
the wind.

Let the ground
gape in stunned
lamentation.

Let it weep
as it receives
what it thinks
it will not
give up.

Let it groan
as it gathers
the One
who was thought
forever stilled.

Time
be still.

Watch
and wait.

Still.

JAN RICHARDSON
Circle of Grace: A Book of Blessings for the Seasons

John 19:31-34

Now it was the day of Preparation, and the next day was to be a special Sabbath. Because the Jews did not want the bodies left on the crosses during the Sabbath, they asked Pilate to have the legs broken and the bodies taken down.

The soldiers therefore came and broke the legs of the first man who had been crucified with Jesus, and then those of the other. But when they came to Jesus and found that he was already dead, they did not break his legs. Instead, one of the soldiers pierced Jesus' side with a spear, bringing a sudden flow of blood and water.

JESUS’ BODY IS TAKEN DOWN FROM THE CROSS

His spirit and his life he breathes in all
Now on this cross his body breathes no more
Here at the centre everything is still
Spent, and emptied, opened to the core.
A quiet taking down, a prising loose
A cross-beam lowered like a weighing scale
Unmaking of each thing that had its use
A long withdrawing of each bloodied nail,
This is ground zero, emptiness and space
With nothing left to say or think or do
But look unflinching on the sacred face
That cannot move or change or look at you.
Yet in that prising loose and letting be
He has unfastened you and set you free.

MALCOLM GUITE
Sounding the Seasons

REMOVAL

I thought I knew
who I was following
and where this would lead.
Yet my vision
now hangs lifeless,
nailed in place by others
with their own illusions.
It is a death
I did not foresee
and I am undone
by the onset of reality.
Take him down.
I am done with misguided faith.
I will look on him no longer.
Remove my non-Christ,
the unsaving Savior
I imagined for myself.
Wrapping his body,
I will bury my false idol
beside this Jesus
and wait for a better hope.



Jeff Peabody

LUKE 23:50-54

Now there was a man named Joseph, a member of the Council, a good and upright man, who had not consented to their decision and action. He came from the Judean town of Arimathea and he was waiting for the kingdom of God. Going to Pilate, he asked for Jesus' body. Then he took it down, wrapped it in linen cloth and placed it in a tomb cut in the rock, one in which no one had yet been laid. It was Preparation Day, and the Sabbath was about to begin.

WHAT TO DO WITH A DEAD JESUS

The living Jesus
is the one who had caused such a stir,
who made bold claims
changed the weather
silenced demons
healed diseases
Who embarrassed religious leaders
and infuriated rule keepers
and delighted crowds
and loved the world.

That was the living one.

Even the dying Jesus
called for a response
drawing stares from onlookers
And jeers from enemies
And belief from strangers.
While dying
he quoted Scripture
welcomed a thief
cared for his mother
and caused the ground to shake.

But a dead Jesus
can only be a gruesome burden
a sober reminder
of a dream not just gone,
but beaten
and bruised
and broken.

A dead Jesus
didn’t meet expectations
or rescue himself.
Now he appeared powerless
to change the world.
Now he himself needed
to be lifted and carried
and mourned.

What do you do with him?

Joseph of Arimathea
pressed in
uncomfortably close
to the blood-soaked,
sweat-stained
lead weight mess
of a lifeless Savior.

Rather than recoil in horror
he embraced reality,
brought the body down
and gave it the one thing he had:
his very own grave.

The dead Jesus
laid to rest in the space
intended for a dead Joseph.

Joseph had no expectation for this body.
He didn’t claim it for what it could do for him.

His faith was not yet so big as to believe
there could be more.

But still – he wanted to honor this death
to acknowledge it somehow
to wrap the significance of it
into his own existence.

And that was enough.
Enough to hold the despair of Friday
And the silence of Saturday
Until Sunday could rewrite the ending.

What do we do with a dead Jesus?

When he hasn’t met our expectations
When he seems cold to our need
And incapable of responding
with anything like help.

Can we still take him home?

To the spaces we’ve held onto
for our own private grief,
hollow caves of sorrow
too painful to share.

What might it look like
to offer such a tomb to him?

Can we allow the reality of Jesus
to reside there, to rest there
even when our faith is too small
to expect anything more from him?

Can we stay uncomfortably close
and hold the weight
of a messy Savior
who chose not to resist rejection
who suffered the injustice
and guilt and shame
and misunderstanding
and mockery
and abuse
and abandonment of the whole world?

He took up our infirmities
The death meant for us.
If we can do nothing else,
Can we invite that truth in?
Can we make room for it
in our most lifeless places,
honoring it by
wrapping it into our own existence?

That would be enough.
What will you do with a dead Jesus?

Know this:
Christ does his best work
in borrowed graves.

Jeff Peabody