Human Compassion
I hope those that were able to have a vacation somewhere will have enjoyed some rest with the change of environment. I hope also that those who remained here were able find some time during the summer for rest and recuperation.
Some may have gone on pilgrimage somewhere. I hope their pilgrimage was fruitful — some time away for prayer, silence, thought — taking the family away for a short while to a place of prayer, as Christ would often go into the mountains and wilderness to pray.
When I was much younger, my parents would sometimes take my siblings and I to a Cistercian monastery in the East of Nigeria (a place called Awhum): Our Lady of Mount Calvary monastery, run by the Order of Cistercians of the Strict Observance. It was very silent and remote. The monks led a simple austere life. They would spend the day in prayer and work, waking up to pray together in the early hours before dawn. Some worked on the farm and others in the various jobs that needed doing around the monastery.
This summer I was able to go and spend some time in Lourdes. It was almost last minute, as I was not sure what I was going to do for my vacation (in fact, as I returned, Fr. Anthony went on his pilgrimage with the HCPT group). While there, I was fortunate to be able to visit the larger-than-life stations of the cross on Espélugues Hill. The models are life size, cast in iron and painted with gold coloured paint.
What struck me while going along the way was the compassion shown to Jesus, depicted in some of the characters, especially the women. But even the Roman soldiers acting for officialdom, towards the end seemed increasingly struck by what was taking place. At the fourth station Jesus was met by his mother, who was supported by another female. At the sixth, Veronica came out of the crowd to wipe the face of Jesus; that must have taken some courage. Then the eighth station, where the women of Jerusalem came out to mourn for Jesus. How many women are ‘the women of Jerusalem’? Six, ten, twenty, fifty? Some also brought their children with them. Jesus, after all, had not long before been showing compassion himself: healing their sick, blessing the children, speaking to them about the kingdom of heaven. It was comforting to think that despite the religious authorities’ efforts, they could not stamp out authentic human compassion.
At most of the stations there was someone looking at Jesus in a compassionate, heartfelt, sorrowful manner. I’m thinking it may not have been humanity’s lowest hour.
