ROSARY & ART: The Fourth Sorrowful Mystery is the Carrying of the Cross
(Matthew 27:31-35; Mark 15:20-23; Luke 23:26-32; John 19:16-18)
The Fourth Sorrowful Mystery overlaps with another Catholic devotion: the Stations of the Cross. The stations, in fact, detail at least nine events that took place while Jesus carried his cross. Meditation on this sorrowful mystery and contemplation of the Way of the Cross in fact provides a good spiritual synergy. That’s especially useful when you consider that the scriptural testimony to the carrying of the cross is relatively modest.
That’s not to say it’s unimportant or that the stations are contrived. Various stations have explicit biblical bases, e.g., the sentence, the taking up of the cross, Simon of Cyrene, the women of Jerusalem. Others come from tradition, which does not make them less valuable or untrue: Jesus certainly met his Mother and certainly must have fallen.
All the Gospels agree: despite Pilate’s attempts at evasion, after Jesus is scourged and crowned with thorns, the mob is relentless in calling for his death. Pilate acquiesces. And so the march to Calvary begins.
Those who were to be crucified were paraded through the streets of Jerusalem to the place of crucifixion outside the city gates, the “Place of the Skull.” (Golgotha had that name because the shape of the hill resembled a skull. There was also a tradition that claimed it was where the skull of Adam lay.) They typically carried the titulus, or the document with their name and their charge, tied around their neck — that is what the INRI (Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews) is all about. It was an opportunity for the condemned to be mocked, jeered and further abused by the crowd.
Contrary to our images, most writers think the condemned did not carry the full cross. They believe the vertical beam (stipes) was permanently fixed in place to assure its stability, while the removal horizontal beam (patibulum) could be borne by the prisoner, either being tied and/or nailed to it at the beginning of his trek or its end. This made sense: a patibulum itself might have been around 75 pounds; an entire cross maybe 300.
John is clear: “Carrying the cross by himself, he went out to what is called the Place of the Skull” (John 19:17). Does that exclude Simeon’s later help? No. But it emphasizes that Jesus is not passively carried to his Passion. He chooses to do his Father’s will. “He went out to Golgotha.” No one kills him. Jesus freely surrenders his life for us.
Re-read that sentence. Jesus freely surrenders his life for us. For me.
The second station makes that clear: Jesus takes up his cross. It isn’t so much imposed on him as he embraces it. When we are tempted by sins of omission, does Jesus actively taking up his cross motivate me to act, to do what I ought to do?
Along the way, he falls. He’s bearing at least 75 pounds of wood after at least 12 hours of physical abuse, including a brutal flagellation and an abusive crowning. He will fall. But he who went out “carrying the cross by himself” gets up and carries on.
How often do we, under the weight of our sins, refuse to get up? Jesus fell three times. I fall in my thoughts. I fall in my words. I fall in my deeds. Do I get up and continue on the Christian journey?
He meets his Mother. The two sinless human beings stand in the midst of the vehement hatred that sin has assembled at this hour, a spew that will fall on both of them. Do I truly realize that Jesus made her my mother, too?
Jesus is growing weaker. One thing, however, is certain: the Temple leadership that has arranged for this judicial murder does not want Jesus to die while carrying his cross. They do not want him to collapse on the way. Why? Because they had a theological point to make. According to the Old Testament, a man who is “hanged on a tree” is certainly “cursed by God” (Deuteronomy 21:22-23). Death by being “hanged on a tree” was a sure sign of Divine rejection. The Temple leaders did not just want Jesus dead — they wanted him dead and discredited. (We see this same concern for what might remain after him when they ask Pilate for a guard — Matthew 27:62-66 — to seal the tomb against any pseudo-resurrection theft of his corpse.) So, they clearly want Jesus up on Calvary and up on a cross.
The soldiers, too, undoubtedly, wanted to “do their job” and make sure the sentence was carried out. So they press a man who happens to cross Jesus’s path — a man “coming in from the fields” — to help carry Jesus’s cross.
How often do circumstances put me in the middle of something I never expected, where somebody would benefit from my help? What is my reaction? Do I try to get away from the engagement? Or do I help?
Do I want to be a bystander or a helper?
As much as Jesus has endured, his Passion is on its way to its most brutal phase: three hours of sheer torture. Do I now realize the sheer vitriol, the shared furious hatred, that sin contains in order to sustain its non-being?
Looking at what is happening, can I really doubt the devil exists?
The Fourth Mystery has been depicted in art in many different ways, according to each of the Stations of the Cross. My selection is a late 15th-century “German” (there was no Germany at the time, only local states) Gothic artist, Hans Maler. Maler (c.1480-c.1526) was born in what is today southwestern Germany and died in that part of Austria we now call “Tyrol.” The panel was probably part of a bigger altarpiece and is held by but not on view at the Art Institute of Chicago.
I chose it because it also illustrates the violation of an English expression: “Don’t kick a man when he’s down.” The painting corresponds to the seventh station: Jesus falls a second time. We can see St. Simon of Cyrene behind Jesus, holding the cross from falling atop Jesus. Those who are good — his Mother and St. John — are in the background, the rear left. Evil is all around Jesus. The middle ranks are filled by witnesses and bystanders: those who are curious enough, maybe even sadistic enough, to watch the man on his way to die, and those who want to ensure he gets there. In the foreground are the most evil: a soldier about to kick Jesus in the head, another executioner ready to beat him. Evil has its own logic: kick the man when he’s down. And enjoy it.
Where would I be in this picture?
