A Devotional Guide By Dr. Kathy Bozzuti-Jones

Transcription

1 A Devotional Guide By Dr. Kathy Bozzuti-Jones An ancient Christian religious devotion, still practiced today, The Stations of the Cross represent scenes of the passion of Jesus. The practice of journeying from station to station grew out of and continues to inspire a deepening relationship with God for many. In walking alongside the suffering Jesus, pilgrims come close to the heart of God and God s dream for a just society. Could this devotional practice be so spacious that people of any faith or no faith can participate in its vision? The expansive artistic imagery of the Stations of the Cross exhibition in Manhattan, rendered in religious and secular spaces by artists of different faiths and spiritual sensibilities, suggests that it is. As an artistic motif, the Stations provide a vehicle to move between the deep connotations of the traditional narrative and contemporary reinterpretations that traverse boundaries, inviting all to participate. Can contemporary stations reveal the spiritual dimensions of the refugee crisis and immigration reform? Whoever you are, if you are disturbed by the suffering of migrant peoples, if you have a heart for social action and a vision of a just world (or seek to develop one), you are invited to journey with the Stations. This short reflection guide, intended for individuals and groups, invites you to walk the Stations seeking Wisdom, with these questions in mind: -How might reflection on the Stations affect my self-understanding? -How might reflection on the Stations call me to action? -What does loving my immigrant and refugee neighbor actually look like? -What does justice require of me to change or to give up? 1

2 Station 1: Jesus is Condemned The journey begins with an ancient image of anguish: the acute suffering of parents and children experiencing extreme violence and injustice in the time of Jesus. Jesus own family escaped the slaughter ordered by Herod and was able to find refuge. As a man, however, Jesus was unable to escape the violence and injustice of the Roman governor. His efforts to change hearts and gather the people around a revolutionary vision led to capture, interrogation, and false accusation. Even so, he moved toward his condemnation with great clarity: He was willing to accept the risks that come with God s dream of a just world for all, in order to bring it into being. Jesus condemnation was the start of a painful journey. As such, Jesus stands as a witness to the stolen dignity of immigrant and refugee families denied justice. What values motivate me to be responsive? Do I understand my attention to immigration reform and the refugee crisis to be a matter of conscience? Do I have the courage to stand against conditions that prevent justice and the right to flourish? What can I do to prepare myself to act on behalf of a refugee child condemned to die because of debilitating poverty, poor education, and inadequate health services? Station 2: Jesus Takes up his Cross Jesus might have refused the cross. Yet, the one who entered into solidarity with the outcast does not speak out on his own behalf. Perhaps he is traumatized. Many believe that he chose to be humiliated and degraded, in order to witness to the product of unjust social relationships. The crosses borne by refugees and immigrants are many, including loss of systems of support, trying to provide for their children, lack of work opportunity, and often the burden of daily survival. The artist s unlikely image of concrete flotation devices recalls both those who have died at sea and those who escaped death, fleeing their countries by boat. The image of heaviness is entwined with hope, however, challenging us to participate in the promise of life-saving assistance. Have I taken time to reflect on my part to play in responding to the refugee crisis? How do I relate to the spiritual idea of self-giving in this age of acquisition? Am I ready to yield some of my power, status, control, in order to bear some of the burden of those subjected to cruel indignities? From where do I find the inner strength to enter in to the struggle for justice? 2

3 Station 3: Jesus Falls the First Time Take a moment to visualize Jesus struggling under the weight and pain of the cross until he can no longer bear it. The marginalized in our society struggle and fall day after day; they need us to pay attention to their plight. Our country is plagued by an epidemic of gun violence and those with the least power or resources are often the victims. The icon, Our Lady Mother of Ferguson and Those Killed by Gun Violence, reminds us of the record numbers of people living with violence every day. We are enmeshed in systems that promote fear and suspicion. Yet gun violence is an affront to God s love for the world and we are called to put an end to it. What story do I tell myself about the prevalence of gun violence in this country? How does fear affect the prevalence of gun violence? What does my faith say about fear? How do my values allow me to live with the reality of escalating gun violence? Do I know what my communities are doing to stem gun violence? How can I be an advocate for sensible gun laws? Station 4: Jesus Meets His Mother The mother of Jesus offers presence and comfort, in spite of the noisy, harassing crowd. Her eyes meet his in the silent solidarity of a mother s unwavering love. Perhaps it is her accompaniment that gives Jesus the strength to carry on. Mary is an active witness to love. The artist s incorporation of family members observing Muslim mourning rites may offer an opportunity to consider the suffering of refugee families and the particular burdens borne by women grieving their lost sons, and the lost opportunities for their flourishing. Am I willing to cultivate compassion for my refugee neighbor, like that of a mother for a suffering son? Do I look upon a suffering other with eyes of love or eyes of fear? What concrete steps can I take to offer presence, comfort, or support to a single refugee or immigrant family in need of accompaniment? 3

4 Station 5: Simon of Cyrene Helps Jesus Carry the Cross Whether or not he was compelled to do so, it is said that Simon was converted to Jesus way after helping him carry the cross. He offered strength where Jesus had little. And in this act Simon s heart was opened to a new way of being. Each man gave and each received a gift from the other. Simon s gesture reminds us that when we offer help, we open ourselves to transformation. In her work, Exodus: I See Myself in You, the artist, Siona Benjamin, challenges us to respond with empathy to those we do not know. We, too, in giving and receiving, through real relationship with the immigrant or refugee, can be transformed. To see myself in you, I must first meet you. Am I ready to reach out and to meet the ones I claim to care about - to see how a displaced stranger lives and enter into her story? How is seeking justice for immigrants and refugees like taking another s cross onto my shoulders? What is preventing my authentic encounter with my neighbor in urgent need? Station 6: Veronica Wipes the Face of Jesus There is an ancient prayer that says, teach me to pay attention to your face, because in doing so, I encounter your heart and mine. Veronica breaks through the guards, the madness of the crowds, and the fears of those who loved Jesus, to offer an act of tremendous compassion. She wiped the face of Jesus, looked into his eyes and his heart and, there, encountered her inmost self. In Michael Takeo Magruder s, Lamentation for the Forsaken, we recall traditions that describe the Shroud of Turin as the imprint of Jesus face on Veronica s cloth. The faces and lives of the people in Magruder s piece remind us that our most urgent task as human beings is to recognize the faces of those who suffer. We are called to receive the indelible impression of mercy upon our own hearts and to encounter God there. The name, Veronica, means true icon. Icons, in the traditional sense, are said to look out at us as we gaze. How is my desire to offer myself in service visible to others? Can I break out of my comfort long enough to wipe a single face in compassion -- to allow the suffering of my neighbor to be imprinted on my heart and change me? 4

5 Station 7: Jesus Falls for the Second Time The second fall of Jesus reminds us that suffering and oppression are ongoing for many millions of people. Every day we read of peoples crushed by violence and war, suffering abandonment, fear, hunger, and humiliation. And yet they are further marginalized because of their condition as migrants, rather than welcomed. The artist s image seems to suggest our ambivalence as onlookers. Or, perhaps, it suggests that onlooker and victim are as one. What is this image? Where am I in it? Are the hands active or passive? Might they be reaching out in vulnerability or in self-offering? Take a moment to assume the posture in the image, as you see it. With arms outstretched, imagine that you can hold in your body both the vulnerability of your neighbor and a spacious welcome for her. Let the commingling of vulnerability and welcome be your prayer. Offer it in the service of healing. Station 8: Jesus Meets the Women of Jerusalem The women are weeping, expressing their compassion for Jesus as he lifts his weary body. We know that shared sorrow can alleviate loneliness and isolation. The women know this, as they are the ones who bear the brunt of sorrow, like refugee women today. They are the ones most vulnerable both physically and emotionally to violence, helplessness, and despair. Louise Nevelson, a Jewish refugee artist, knew what despair meant in a field dominated by men. She gathered wood scraps from the city streets and transformed them into structures of beauty and hope in this Chapel of new life. Who weeps for struggling and isolated women? Who witnesses to their hope for new life born from pain? How am I complicit in the pain of unseen refugee women? If I cannot weep for the pain I cause others through my indifference, what does it say about who I am? About who I am becoming? What does this Chapel reveal to you about transformative hope? What does my compassion look like in action? 5

6 Station 9: Jesus Falls the Third Time Jesus is nearly defeated on this last fall on his journey to Calvary. Yet, somehow, he continues to shoulder, by his example, the fall of the outcast, helpless under the weight of their crosses. When power is used to oppress the weak, it takes someone firmly planted in her faith and conscience to redirect that power. Jesus models this in his self-offering. The artist s monument recalls a single diplomat s heroic actions on behalf of hundreds of thousands of deported Hungarian Jews in the 1940s. His clarity of purpose in rescuing innocent people from concentration camps cost him his life, too. Does my faith or my spiritual path direct me to address the plight of the poor? Am I honest in my self-examination? Knowing that conscience is developed through practice, how can I prepare myself, step by step, to grow in mercy, courage, and the capacity to risk? Can I admit that I have fallen down and need to reach out for support to renew my efforts in speaking truth to power? What will my very next step be on my road to becoming fully engaged? Station 10: Jesus is Stripped of his Garments Disempowered, defenseless, naked, Jesus has been turned from a subject to an object of derision. He has been depersonalized, dehumanized, degraded. But human dignity cannot be lost; it is intrinsic, an endowment. Similarly, in spite of the artist s image of native peoples at the mercy of a heartless empire, the viewer s eye is drawn to the Sacred Heart offered freely. Migrants, like native peoples the world over, have undergone loss of land and possessions, loss of rights and social supports. Many migrant people suffer indignities out of love for their families. Many detainees endure the humiliation of strip searches. Take a moment to imagine the humiliation of being stripped of your clothes, of the things that give you basic dignity. What does it mean to be part of a system that strips undocumented people of their dignity? Can I resist the urge to turn away from my refugee neighbor s pain? What resources can I bring to bear on her behalf? Can I turn to face him and walk with him from despair into renewed hope? 6

7 Station 11: Crucifixion Is this the end of the story? Jesus is nailed to the cross and many of his followers hung their hopes with him there. Did all that he taught about bearing one another s burdens and loving both stranger and enemy amount to nothing? Were his daily actions on behalf of the unloved and unwanted lost in a historical moment of statesanctioned cruelty? The artist s blend of past and present images, witnessing to the AIDS crisis, reminds us that history is one: Jesus is crucified today, still, in the millions of people nailed to the cross of marginalization, poverty, inadequate healthcare, and limited access to education. What prevents me from acting upon the urgings of my compassionate heart? If the answer is a practical one, how can I ally myself with others who can guide my developing activism? If the answer is a spiritual one, can I commit to a brief daily practice of contemplation, of blessing my neighbor and creating an open space inside to nurture a response in love and solidarity? Station 12: Jesus Dies on the Cross The revolutionary, accused of inciting the people, hangs between heaven and earth. Where is the power of a living love now? It is written that at least one of the onlookers seemed to recognize Jesus divinity at the moment of his death, and was converted by it. It takes eyes of love and courage to see into another s spirit, especially another so broken and bloodied. It takes eyes of faithfulness to see a moment of grace, where others see only threat. The African Burial National Monument memorializes the crosses borne by African people who were kidnapped, transported, and enslaved in the Americas, displaced and marginalized, even in their burials. Where there is death, there is longing for renewal. May we die to our selfabsorption and cynicism, our sense of entitlement and our callousness, in order to prepare for something new. Do I bother to look for the divine in my neighbor? Do my eyes seek the goodness in all people -- in the migrant worker serving my table or the asylum-seeker longing to protect his family or the unaccompanied child traveler in present danger? Can I see myself in my immigrant and refugee neighbor? Can I offer the refuge of my full presence and acceptance? Can I open the eyes of my heart to those who are fleeing for their lives and respond with care and advocacy? 7

8 Station 13: Jesus is Taken Down From the Cross The lifeless body of Jesus taken down from the cross brings to mind contemporary photographic images of anguished parents cradling drowned children, lost fleeing their countries by water. It brings to mind the vulnerable poor, assaulted and killed in government-sponsored genocide, conflict, and war. Love calls us to welcome those who escape oppression, persecution, and violence. Love calls us to move beyond our fears and suspicions, to remove the barriers to living as a human family. In Stations, the artist, G. Roland Biermann, juxtaposes a wall of blood-red oil barrels with a fallen cross; it suggests the human cost of economic and political systems, which privilege some, while leaving others to fend for themselves and endangering all on our planet home. What is it that I want to see happen, now? What can I say to counter the antiimmigrant rhetoric and attack on migrants that permeates our national conversation? Am I committed to God s dream of a just world for all? Am I ready to accept the risks and the sacrifices that come with that commitment? Station 14: Entombment This story, you may know, does not end in darkness inside a hewn-out rock. The man born a refugee, has been laid to rest but the story of life-giving love does not end here. When families of those lost on 9/11 speak about the outpouring of love they received to meet their sorrow, we are reminded that restoration is possible, even in the darkest hour. The memorial pools call us to stand with them and all who seek healing and restoration. Meanwhile, the world over, there are people far from their homes, wounded and cold and unfed and unwelcome, seeking the same. May our hearts be softened to their situations. May we continue to seek justice and mercy, magnifying their voices. May we find new hope and new life, together. Do I live my life as a blessing, giving witness to love for all people? What must I do to enact a spiritual vision that includes everyone and demonizes no one? In a political and economic culture that devalues compassion in favor of efficiency, how can I be a voice for basic goodness and kinship, encouraging others to view with compassion the experience of the exile seeking home? 8

9 Kathy Bozzuti-Jones, PhD is associate director for Faith Formation and Education at Trinity Church Wall Street. An ordained interfaith minister and spiritual director with graduate degrees in Christian social ethics, Kathy enjoys teaching contemplative practices to support social activism. 9