Death Alone Can Separate Me from Them

The Mission of Fr. Sebastian Rale to the Abenakis of Maine

The east bank of the Kennebec, near
where the Narantsouack mission was
located.

Follow the Kennebec River from its mouth in Bath, past Old Fort Western in Augusta, past Taconic Falls in Waterville, past the river's westward turn in Skowhegan, and there on the east bank, you will find a cemetery in what is now Madison, Maine. Before the cemetery was ever there, before the mill at Taconic Falls was ever running, even before Old Fort Western was built, there once was a mission that stood here and its last pastor was a priest by the name of Fr. Sebastian Rale. Ashes are all that remain of this once great 17th century mission to the Abenakis.

To read Fr. Rale's description of this mission, it sounds like it was a veritable Christian paradise. Fr. Rale spent his days baptizing, saying Mass, offering counsel, anointing the sick, catechizing children and in all things pointing the Abenaki people to Jesus Christ. He built two chapels on the banks of the Kennebec: one dedicated to the Blessed Virgin Mary at the head of the river and the other dedicated to the Guardian Angel. The natives of the village saw to it that these two chapels were well adorned, but nothing could compare to the church. Fr. Rale writes to his nephew that he thought it his duty to spare nothing in its decoration, “altar-cloths, chasubles, copes, sacred vessels, everything is suitable, and would be esteemed in the Churches of Europe.”

Fr. Pierre Biard (one of the
early Jesuit missionaries in
Maine) offering Mass for the
native Americans.

More notable than the buildings themselves were the people who filled them. Twice a day the Neophytes came to the church, in the morning to hear Mass and in the evening to be present at the prayers which Fr. Rale offered at sunset. It was more than obedience that brought them to Mass. The Neophytes chanted prayers throughout the Mass that Fr. Rale designed to help them enter the spirit of the Holy Sacrifice. About forty altar boys assisted in cassock surplice at the Mass and in the processions and for the processions, native Americans came from near and far to be present.

But although the Prince of Peace reigned supreme on the banks of the Kennebec, just down the coast trouble was brewing. Fr. Rale’s post among the Abeankis was at the southwest border of the territory claimed by New France. As the New England colonists pushed north, the Kennebec River became a contentious border and the Narantsouack mission became an increasingly dangerous place for a priest to be.

The conflict began with a trade deal. The native Americans lacked the complex economy of the Europeans that could produce tools. The Europeans lacked the abundant wilderness and the hunting skills which the native Americans used to provide furs. Therefore trade was profitable for the Europeans and necessary for the natives. Traditionally the Abenakis traded with the French who were their allies, but the English were much closer to them in Boston than the French in Quebec. When the English asked permission to build trading posts near Narantsouack, the Abenakis agreed. It was to their advantage to have easy to access to trade with the English.

Fort Halifax, located on the Kennebec River in present day
Winsow, Maine

Trade was not what the English had in mind. Territory was. Rather than build trading posts, the English built forts. The forts were built closer and closer to Abenaki territory and when the Abenakis demanded to know why, the English replied that their land belonged to them.

Tensions grew. A group of about twenty Abenakis went to the English colony with the intention of trading when suddenly they were surrounded by two hundred armed men. They were prepared to fight for their lives, but the colonists dissuaded them by saying they only wanted them to come with them to Boston to make a trade deal. Four native Americans boarded that ship and soon found themselves prisoners being held for ransom.

Further kidnappings by the British followed. Negotiations were had but none were fruitful and eventually war broke out.

A depiction of Fr. Rale found
in Notre Dame Church in
Skowhegan, Maine

It seems clear enough that aggressive expansion on the part of the English caused the war, but who did the English blame for it? None other than the missionary to the Abenakis, Fr. Rale. With each attempt on the part of the English to convince the Abenakis to ally with themselves, Fr. Rale stood in the way. The English blamed it on political intrigue, but that would be hard to imagine for a man who renounced the world and voluntarily chose a life of poverty away from France dedicated to the salvation of souls. No, it was the faith that held the Abenakis back from an English alliance. If they allied with the English, they knew they would not permit them to have a priest and having encountered Our Lord in the sacraments, they were not going to give Him up so easily.

Thus Fr. Rale became a wanted man. A high price was put on his head (or rather, his scalp.) Several attempts were made to capture or kill him. In January of 1722, two young Abenakis were hunting by the seashore, when they got news that the English had entered the Kennebec River. The village of Narantsouack was vulnerable. The men were all out hunting and only the women and children were left along with one other notable person: Fr. Rale. The two young Abenakis saw the danger immediately. The English boats were within 35 miles of the village and they immediately turned back to the village and ran as fast as they could (dozens of miles) to warn Fr. Rale and help the old men, women and children escape in time.

When the two messengers arrived at Narantsouack, there wasn’t much time left. Fr Rale consumed the sacred hosts in the tabernacle, packed up the sacred vessels and then escaped into the woods. He wasn’t able to make it far. It was winter, the snow was deep and a badly injured leg didn’t permit him to run far. When the English arrived at the village, he was only a within a gunshot’s range. There were no leaves on the trees, there was no place to hide and the English, having not found him in the village, were now on the hunt. Fr. Rale writes to his nephew:

Pine trees near the old Narantsouack mission. This is likely
what Fr. Rale was attempting to hide behind.

They immediately searched the various paths worn by the Savages when they go for wood, and came within eight steps of the tree that was sheltering me, where naturally they must have perceived me, for the trees had shed their leaves; nevertheless, as if they had been driven away by an invisible hand, they suddenly retraced their steps, and again took the way to the Village.

Jesus Christ had plans for Fr. Rale. It was not his time yet; there was still more to be done in the service of Great King.

It was becoming increasingly clear that it was not safe for Fr. Rale in Narantsouack. As much as the Abenakis loved their priest who had been with them for thirty years, they loved him too much to see him stay in harm’s way. They begged him to leave, to go someplace where it was safe. But the shepherd refused to leave his flock. Fr. Rale writes to his nephew, “My Neophytes moved by the danger to which I am exposed in their Village, often urge me to retire for a little time to Quebec. But what will become of the flock, if it be deprived of its Shepherd? Death alone can separate me from them.”

That day finally came in August of 1724. Covered by the dense thickets around the village, 1100 Englishmen and their Iroquois allies snuck up on the village of Narantsouack. Since there was no wall around the village, they were able to approach completely unnoticed and as soon as they arrived, they rained down musket fire on the innocent civilians.

The death of Fr. Rale at the foot of the
cross.

The alarm went up, but there were only fifty warriors present in the village. Outnumbered 22:1, there was little chance of them warding off the enemy. Their only hope was to grab their weapons and perhaps oppose them long enough to allow the women and children to escape.

Fr. Rale meanwhile heard the commotion. His Neophytes were in danger and he had to do something about it. In the middle of the attack, Fr. Rale stepped out of his house and appeared fearlessly before the enemy. Perhaps he hoped to negotiate and dissuade the attackers. Perhaps he simply hoped to draw their attention to himself alone and so keep his flock safe. Whatever his intentions, the attackers were not slow in noticing him.

The reports we have on this incident are from a letter from Fr. De La Chasse, Fr. Rale’s Jesuit superior. He in turn received these reports from eyewitnesses who were present at the massacre. This is what he records:

As soon as they perceived the Missionary, a general shout was raised which was followed by a storm of musket-shots that was poured upon him. He dropped dead at the foot of a large cross that he had erected in the midst of the Village, in order to announce the public profession that was made therein of adoring a crucified God. Seven Savages who were around him, and were exposing their lives to guard that of their father, were killed by his side.

Thus ended the life of Fr. Rale. He gave his life to satisfying the thirst of Christ who hung on the cross longing for souls. Now Fr. Rale laid down his life at the foot of the cross, choosing to die rather than abandon those souls entrusted to him by God.

The monument in St. Sebastian
Cemetery, marking the resting
place of Fr. Sebastian Rale.

Sadly, the massacre wasn’t over. The Abenakis tried to flee across the river, but the English shot them while they desperately tried to swim. Still, the carnage could have been worse. Although 150 fugitives gathered in the woods, only thirty were killed. Meanwhile, the English burned the village. The church that had recently rebuilding was torched once again, but not before the Holy Eucharist was snatched out of the tabernacle and the Precious Body of Our Lord basely profaned. 

"I thirst!"

When all was over, the Abenaki people returned to the ruins of their beloved village. They beheld the ashes to which their church had been reduced. Taking the body of their holy missionary, which had been badly mutilated, they dug a grave where the day before the altar had stood and laid their priest to rest. He had stood there at the foot of Calvary Hill offering Mass for them day after day and now, having gone to his own Calvary, there he would rest until Jesus Christ would come again.

These were some of the first seeds of faith planted on Maine soil. They were watered by the arduous labors of men and women who fell in love with Christ and answered His call to bring Him souls. And still Christ hangs on the cross, thirsting for souls. Still there are souls who stray away from His love. Who will pick up the cross? Who will bear His love to them? Who will satiate His thirst? The first seeds have been scattered, the part of the early missionaries is done. Now it is for us to take up that same cross and follow Him.

Following Jesus and Mary on the Way of the Cross

                In almost every Catholic church, you will find fourteen images of Our Lord on His way to Calvary lining the walls. These images are the Stations of the Cross, commemorating the fourteen times Our Lord stopped (from the Latin word stare) during His passion.[1] By walking from one station to the next, the faithful are asked to meditate on Our Lord’s suffering and walk with Him on the Way of the Cross. There are many different versions of the stations, but uniting them there are three common themes: the stations are made in atonement for sins, in the footsteps of Our Lord, and in the footsteps of Our Lady.

A Brief History

                It is unclear when exactly the Stations of the Cross began. Tradition holds that Our Lady was the first to make the Stations of the Cross, visiting every day the places where her Son suffered and died.[2] We have for evidence the witness of tradition and the visions of St. Bridget, but no further historical evidence. What is clear even from historical evidence is that those holy places were revered and visited from very early on in Christian history. This is brought out by the fact that Romans had to build a temple of Venus over Calvary hill to prevent Christians from going there.[3] The Way of the Cross as we know it began to take shape slowly. It began with pilgrims in the Middle Ages spending the night in the Church of the Holy Selpuchre and then tracing back Our Lord’s journey from Calvary to the Pilate’s praetorium.[4]  At some point, the order was reversed so that pilgrims actually retraced Christ’s footsteps on His way to Calvary. When it became too dangerous to go to the Holy Land, a sort of virtual Way of the Cross began to develop in Europe. “Develop” here is a key word, since early Stations of the Cross vary greatly in regard to what stations they include and how many they are.[5] Even when the fourteen stations were settled on, the text was never set in stone. Many different meditations were written for the Way of the Cross.

                In this paper I will focus on two paradigmatic versions of the Stations of the Cross: that of St. Leonard of Port-Maurice and of St. Alphonsus Liguori. St. Leonard is often called the “apostle of the Stations of the Cross” and it was due to St. Leonard’s influence that Stations of the Cross became common in every Catholic Church. [6] Thus it is his meditations on the Stations and his preaching that most shaped the theology behind the Stations of the Cross as we know them today.

                While St. Leonard’s Stations are very beautiful, the meditations are long and intense, more suited to private devotion than for public use in a parish.[7] Thus the version that is most in use in parishes and the version familiar to most Catholics is that of St. Alphonsus of Liguori. St. Alphonsus was born in 1696 and died in 1787, just a generation removed from St. Leonard. St. Alphonsus’ meditations share the same basic theology, but are shorter, meant for group recitation, has clear phrases that repeat throughout and includes the Stabat Mater between stations.  With that groundwork laid, I will now go on to discuss the theology of the Stations in light of these meditations.

In Atonement for Our Sins

                Who killed Jesus? A historically minded person might tell you that the chief priests and the scribes killed Jesus since they were the ones who accused Him of blasphemy and handed Him over to Pilate. Others might say that the Romans killed Jesus since they were the ones to carry out the execution. And yet when Pilate tells Jesus he has the power to release Him, Jesus responds, “You would have no power over me if it had not been given to you from above.”[8] The Jews and the Romans had no power over Jesus; they were only allowed to act as they did because God allowed it for a greater reason. So who really killed Jesus?

                We killed Jesus by our sins. “Yet it was our pain that he bore, our suffering he endured…he was pierced for our sins, crushed for our iniquity. He bore the punishment that makes us whole, by his wounds we were healed.”[9] The penalty for sins had to be paid and so Jesus offered Himself as the sacrificial lamb, paying for each and every one of our sins in His own blood. His sufferings are ransom for our punishment. Our sins are the reason He goes to His death. It is our sins and the sufferings that we deserve that we see reflected back at us in Jesus’ sufferings.

                This leads us to the linchpin of the whole theology of the Stations of the Cross: in following Jesus in His passion, we are the judge who condemns Him and we are the soldiers who nail Him to the Cross.

My adorable Jesus, /it was not Pilate; /no, it was my sins that condemned You to die…My most amiable Jesus, you wish to die for me. And I, with my sins, am that witness who accuses you, that judge who condemns you. How ungrateful I have been! You have given me life, and I deliver you to death.[10]

This fact, that in reality it is not Pilate but I who condemned Jesus to death, frames the whole meditation on Jesus’ passion. Now when I look on Jesus’ sufferings, I no longer see a random act of political violence: in those sufferings, I see my sins in all their ugliness and horror. I no longer see Roman soldiers crucifying a rebellious Jew; I see myself, crucifying my Lord. “My beloved Jesus, / it was not the weight of the cross / but the weight of my sins which made You suffer so much.”[11]

                Realizing this, two things become abundantly clear. Firstly, we see the great depths of Jesus’ love for us. As Christ Himself says in John’s Gospel, “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”[12] In going to His death, Jesus not only suffers for His friends but for us sinners, the very people who are nailing Him to that Cross. As St. Paul writes, “Indeed, only with difficulty does one die for a just person, though perhaps for a good person one might even find courage to die. But God proves his love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us.”[13] It is impossible to imagine a more unconditional love. Christ loved us so much that He would go to His death for us, even while we were the ones crucifying Him.

This brings out the second element: our own ingratitude. Our sins have killed Jesus, who loved us more than anyone ever can or will, whose death bought us a life that we in no way deserved nor can ever pay back. That’s who we killed. Yet knowing this, we continue to sin. We know the price Christ paid for our sins out of love for us, but we return that love by continuing to “recrucify”[14] our beloved savior. How ungrateful we must be if we know this and yet continue to nail Our Lord to the cross.

My most amiable Jesus, you wish to die for me. And I, with my sins, am that witness who accuses you, that judge who condemns you. How ungrateful I have been! You have given me life, and I deliver you to death.[15]

The person making the Stations recognizes that they have betrayed the God who has loved them so much as to die for them. In realizing this, they cannot help but love Him who loved them and repent of their sins.

                Having recognized the greatness of Christ’s love and our own ingratitude, the Stations then move us to two ends: first, sorrow for our sins, and then repentance. St. Leonard begins his Stations with this prayer: “Accompany me with your grace, O most loving Jesus. Enlighten my mind and soften my heart, so that by meditating on your most painful voyage to Calvary, I may be filled with sorrow for my sins.”[16] St. Leonard is asking for the grace to be filled with sorrow over Jesus’ passion. Why? Because if we are not filled with deep grief at seeing what our sins have done to our beloved savior, then the reality of his love and the horror of our sins has not yet penetrated to our heart.

Weep then, my heart! Weep not for your God who goes to his death, but for your sins that bring him there. You are even cruel to yourself unless you wipe out your sins with such sorrow. Most precious blood of my sweet Jesus, soften the heart that does not weep; enlighten the mind that does not know; bend the will that does not obey. Yes, my Jesus, I’m sorry for my sins, and I’ll be sorry for them as long as I live. I would rather die a thousand times before committing them again. Strengthen me by your grace.[17]

Seeing what our sins have done, we cannot help but weep. We weep over the suffering of Jesus who loved us so much, but more than that, we weep because we are the cause of His suffering. And in weeping, we realize the horror of sin and the deep love God has for us and we choose to repent.

                Repentance is the ultimate goal of the Stations of the Cross. Sorrow for sins is only a means to that end. Who after realizing everything Jesus suffered for them could continue on with their life as it is? So long as sin is kept in the dark where its full effects cannot be seen, the sinner is content to go on with life as usual, but when sin is brought into the light and all its horribleness is exposed, this revelation cannot help but move the sinner to a new way of life. Thus every one of St. Alphonsus’ Stations ends with some form of the following prayer for repentance: “I love You, Jesus, my Love with all my heart; / I am sorry that I have offended You. / Never let me offend You again. / Grant that I may love You always; and then do with me as You will.”[18]

In the Footsteps of Our Lord

                How then do we respond to such love? It is imperative that we repent of sin but that is not enough. When the rich young man in Mark’s Gospel asks what he must do to inherit eternal life, he tells Jesus that he keeps all the commandments. The young man has turned away from mortal sin, but one thing still remains for him to do. “Jesus, looking at him with, loved him and said to him, ‘You are lacking in one thing. Go, sell what you have, and give to the poor…then come, follow me.’”[19] Turning away from sin on its own is not an adequate response to Christ’s love. Rather we must turn our whole life around in in order to follow Christ. But following Christ means following Him on the way to Calvary. “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me.”[20] Thus not only do we meditate on the Christ’s sufferings in the Stations of the Cross, but we do so in order to imitate them, to follow in His footsteps as we pick up our own crosses and follow Him.

                In Theological College, the Fifth Station where Simon of Cyrene is forced to help Jesus carry His cross shows this call to pick up our crosses beautifully. (See plate five.) In this depiction, Simon is dressed as an ordinary 19^th century man. His dress does not reflect those of Jesus’ era, showing that we are to play the role of Simon in our lives as we pick up our cross to follow Him. One can see in the Station that the roles are not what you would expect. It is not Simon who comforts Jesus as He helps Him carry His cross, it is Jesus who has His hand on Simon’s shoulders, consoling him as Simon bears the Cross. St. Alphonsus prays, “My beloved Jesus / I will not refuse the cross as Simon did: / I accept it and embrace it. / I accept in particular the death that is destined for me / with all the pains that may accompany it. / I unite it to Your death / and I offer it to You.”[21]

                The call to pick up our cross and follow Jesus appears not only in the Fifth Station but frames the entire Way of the Cross. The faithful, in making the Stations, literally follow in the footsteps of Jesus walking to Calvary as they walk from Station to Station. The parallel between Jesus’ Way of the Cross and our call to follow Him to the cross in our own lives is emphasized further by the fact that a processional cross is carried from Station to Station. It is Jesus’ passion we follow in our mediation and it is literally the cross we follow in making the Stations.

                Consequently, several of the meditations focus on imitating Christ in bearing our own crosses. In St. Leonard’s meditations, He points out the stark contrast between the way Jesus carried His cross and the way in which we live our lives as His disciples. In the Second Station, St. Leonard meditates on how Jesus embraced His cross as He took it up:

My most loving Jesus, you're already on the way to Calvary. It's not enough for you to have a crown of thorns, chains around your waist, scourges, wounds, blood covering your divine body: you also desire the cross./You embrace it with such meekness, and I, with such diligence, seek to avoid it. You humbly accept so great a weight upon your innocent shoulders, and I, full of pride, reject my own lesser cross.

The crosses Jesus offers to us are much smaller than His own, but we nevertheless reject them, much less embrace them. Out of love for us, Jesus desired the Cross. If we are to follow Him, we must also live like Him. Should we not desire our own crosses out of love for Him? As St. Alphonsus writes, “You go to die for love of me; /I want, my beloved Redeemer, to die for love of You.”[22]

                St. Leonard also points out how in carrying His cross, Jesus was patient in suffering. When Jesus fell the first time, there was no one to help Him. Instead He was beaten brutally even as He tried to get up. Nevertheless, He was patient, said nothing and endured His cross. St. Leonard reflects on his own life: “I am puzzled at myself that, whenever some small evil strikes, I am shaken; at every offense I am resentful, become angry and complain./My most patient Jesus, lessen my pride and grant me patience so that, imitating you, I may for my own good be with you until death.”[23] Part of picking up our cross and following Him is embracing it, part of embracing it is refusing to complain as you endure it. In His lifetime Jesus told us that if we were slapped on one cheek, to turn and offer the other.[24] This is exactly how Jesus bore His own cross and it is how we are to bear ours.

In the Footsteps of Our Lady

                Perhaps most interesting of all the things I came across in writing this paper, is that the Stations of the Cross follow not only in the footsteps of Jesus, but also His mother, Mary. The sufferings of the Son are the suffering of the Mother. Mary, who loved Jesus with her whole heart, cannot help but be deeply affected by His Passion. When Simeon prophesied in the presentation of Jesus in the Temple, he turned to Mary and said, “Behold, this child is destined for the fall and rise of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be contradicted and you yourself a sword will pierce so that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed.”[25] Simeon foretells that her son will be a sign of a contradiction, His life will not peaceful and easy and the sufferings that He will endure will pierce His mother’s heart as with a sword. Mary knows this from the very beginning of Jesus’ life and it plays out on Calvary Hill.

                Thus when we come to the Fourth Station, where Jesus meets His Mother, the focus is not so much on the sufferings of Jesus but on the sufferings of Our Lady.

To my great confusion, it wasn't enough that I should see Jesus covered with pain and clothed as a sinner; now his mother also joins him to suffer for my sins! Accursed sins; most painful encounter; most sorrowful mother! In your agony, I see my wickedness./I know that, in such a painful encounter, the suffering of the Son is the suffering of the mother. I know that, if my sins have pierced Jesus' body, they have pierced your heart, O great virgin. But I also know that Jesus is the source of mercy, you, the refuge of sinners./Therefore, most merciful mother, I humbly turn to you with sorrow for my sins. In your kindness, obtain for me from your suffering Son, Jesus, the pardon of my sins.[26]

What causes Mary’s pain but seeing her beloved Son bloodied, bruised, rejected and nailed to a cross. And what caused that to happen but your sins? Your sins have caused not only the suffering of Jesus, but the suffering of His Mother as well.

How cruel my sinfulness has been, executioner of the Son, tyrant of the mother’s heart!/Most holy mother, place a kiss for me upon those wounds, upon that bloody cross. I don’t dare to approach because sin reminds me of my ingratitude. Sorrowful virgin, intercede for me that I may be truly sorry for my sins, and may the power of your protection obtain my repentance, my salvation.[27]

Your sins are the executioner of Jesus and the tyrant of His Mother’s heart. That is terrible enough. What makes it worse is that that is your mother by adoption whose heart you have so cruelly pierced. When Jesus hung on the Cross, He turned to St. John the Beloved Disciple and Mary His Mother.

When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple there whom he loved, he said to his mother, ‘Woman, behold, your son.’ Then he said to the disciple, ‘Behold, your mother.’ And from that hour the disciple took her into his home.[28]

Tradition holds that St. John here stands in the place of every Christian. Jesus has given us one of the greatest gifts that He could, that the love His mother had shown Him would now be given to the whole world. We became her adopted children. And look what we have done: just as we repaid Jesus’ love with cruel beatings and insults, so we repay our mother’s love by killing the one whom she loves most.

                How then do we respond in the face of such cruelty? We walk with Our Lady on the Way to Calvary and stand with her as St. John did before the Cross. As we walk from Station to Station, St. Alphonsus has us sing the Stabat Mater. We ask to stand by Our Lady at the foot the cross, to console her, weep with her, and with her witness to Christ’s love. “By the cross with thee to stay/There with thee to weep and pray,/ Is all I ask of thee to give.”[29] We walk with her and we ask her to pray for us as we meditate on Christ’s Passion. “Make me feel as thou hast felt;/Make my soul to glow and melt/with the love of Christ our Lord.”[30] In light of this, it is not surprising that tradition should hold that Our Lady was the first to make the Stations of the Cross. She who witnessed the love and the sufferings of Jesus and participated in those sufferings would know as we can only hope to learn how sacred were those wounds and those places where He suffered. By her prayers, we can hope to come to a full realization of the horror of sin and repent so that we may love Him fully and live with Him forever.

Conclusion

                I wish I could reflect further on the Stations. The meditations of St. Leonard and St. Alphonsus are beautiful, as are those by Bl. John Henry Newman, St. Jose Maria Escriva, Pope Benedict XVI, among others. However the scope of the paper does not permit it. It has been my goal in this paper to draw out from the Stations the implicit theology behind that Stations that makes the Stations so moving and worth making. We make the Stations in atonement for what our sins have done to Christ. We meditate upon them in order to follow Christ’s example and carry our Crosses faithfully. And we call on Our Lady, our mother, who prays for us on Calvary Hill, who calls us to walk with her to her Crucified Son where we can encounter a more beautiful love than humanity has ever known.

---

[1] “And if you would know why we meet therein with so many stations and crosses, each of which offers us a fresh subject of sorrow, understand that each station represents one of those hallowed spots where Our Suffering Saviour was obliged to stay awhile and rest.” Dominic Devas, O.F.M., Life of St. Leonard of Port-Maurice O.F.M. (1676-1751) (London: Burns Oates & Washbourne LTD., 1952), 106.

[2] “It was an idea of the wonderful Heart of Mary, ever Virgin. Yes, it was the most holy Virgin who first thought of this pious devotion of the Way of the Cross. She herself practiced it and handed it down to her faithful servants. It is what she said herself to St. Bridget, ‘Know, my daughter,’ she told her, ‘that during all the time I lived after the Ascension of my Divine Son, I visited every day those holy places where He suffered, where He died, and where He showed forth His mercies.’” Ibid. 106

[3] Herbert Thurston, S.J., The Stations of the Cross: An Account of their History and Devotional Purpose (London: Burns Oates & Washbourne LTD., 1914).

[4] Ibid.

[5] Ibid.

[6] Anthony Wallenstein, "St. Leonard of Port Maurice and Propagation of Devotion to the Way of the Cross," Franciscan Studies 12, no. 1 (March 1952): 65, accessed February 21, 2017, doi:10.1353/frc.1952.0001.

[7] St. Leonard seems to have envisioned people making the Stations on their own, since he often assigned his penitents to make the Stations. “He preferred to assign the Stations to his penitents for their penance, and urged his companions and all confessors to do so.” Ibid. 57

[8] John 19:11

[9] Isaiah 53:4-5

[10] Alphonsus Liguori, "St. Alphonsus Liguori's Stations of the Cross," The-latinmass.com, , accessed April 18, 2017, http://www.the-latinmass.com/id78.html., Station 1

[11] St. Alphonsus, Station 3

[12] John 15:13

[13] Romans 5:7-8

[14] Hebrews 6:6

[15] St. Leonard of Port-Maurice, O.F.M., "St. Leonard's Way of the Cross," OSV Newsweekly, January 1, 2009, , accessed April 18, 2017, https://www.osv.com/OSVNewsweekly/Story/TabId/2672/ArtMID/13567/ArticleID/13655/St-Leonards-Way-of-the-Cross.aspx., Station 1

[16] St. Leonard Stations, Opening Prayer

[17] St. Leonard, Station 8

[18] St. Alphonsus, Station 7

[19] Mark 10:21

[20] Matthew 16:24

[21] St. Alphonsus, Station 5

[22] St. Alphonsus Stations, Preparatory Prayers

[23] St. Leonard, Station 3

[24] Matthew 5:39

[25] Luke2:34-35

[26] St. Leonard, Station 4

[27] St. Leonard, Station 13

[28] John 19:26-27

[29] Stabat Mater, found in St. Alphonsus Liguori’s Stations

[30] Stabat Mater