Stations of the Cross

"I was speeding on the subway, through the Stations of the Cross..." - U2, "Moment of Surrender"

I think the lyrics to this song say a lot more than they seem to on the surface. There's a sadness, almost a pleading, in the words (if you're not familiar with the song, you can read the lyrics in their entirety here). I know, you're probably thinking, ok, what the heck does speeding on the subway have to do with the Stations of the Cross? Isn't that kind of sacreligious? And seriously, you're quoting U2?!?!?!

Well, obviously, I don't know exactly what Bono and company had in mind when they wrote "Moment of Surrender." I think it is, at least in part, a commentary on the human condition, and there's nothing sacreligious about that. A commentary on enduring suffering in our own lives, and observing the suffering of those around us - because so often, we are invisible to each other. The people on the subway/bus/train/etc. The people on the street corner. The people in our church or our school or our office. The people walking down the street with you this afternoon. Our family. Our friends. The people we walk with and even talk to, those we know and those we don't, to whom we are all bound by our common humanity - but whom we do not truly see.

I think it's a commentary on the suffering in the world, in all its forms, from physical to emotional to mental to spiritual. We would do well to remember that suffering only has meaning in the context of the Stations of the Cross... i.e., in the sufferings of Christ.

Thinking about it that way, the things we and those around us suffer, are, if you will, the "stations" of our own crosses.

Thinking about it that way, it is possible to be "speeding on the subway, through the Stations of the Cross."

Thinking about it that way, I'm also reminded of the need to recognize the face of Christ in all those who suffer. Indeed... in everyone. The people on the street corner. The people in my church, and my office. The people I saw walking down the street this afternoon. My family. My friends. The people I walk with and even talk to, those I know and those I don't, to whom I am bound by our common humanity - but who I do not truly see. The people who are so often invisible to me.

Peace, and all good.