Questions

When we lived in Indiana we often visited St. Mary of the Woods in West Terre Haute. It was a beautiful convent and girl's school that was up on a hill in (of course) lots of woods. The nuns raised alpacas and the students were allowed to board their horses in the convent stables. They had wonderful property that was always available for us to go walking on. It was one place where I felt safe in Indiana, given how many biggots and rednecks there were in our town. I knew we wouldn't be followed or taunted and I could walk alone and enjoy the contemplative atmosphere. I loved to pray my way through the labyrinth under the pine trees, or sit on the porch of the hermitage (a building built of straw bales) at the edge of the lake, or meditate in the beautiful chapel with blue walls and painted murals on the ceiling. One feature of the convent that I especially liked was the bronze statuary on the promenade that depicted the stations of the cross. I don't remember who the sculptor was, but the figures that lined the sidewalk were beautiful and moving.

One statue was of the soldiers mocking and tormenting Christ as He was trying to carry the cross up Golgotha's hill. As I looked at the sneering faces in that sculpture, it suddenly dawned on me that the only figures that depicted women were the ones of the women standing at the foot of the cross, and then as they took Jesus off the cross. (Perhaps there was also one of Veronica receiving the shroud). I was surprised to think what must go through the minds of the hundreds of nuns who have prayed at these stations, looking at the faces of all the angry, persecuting male faces. Christ's face was the only one that wasn't mean. These nuns who had each been married to Christ in a sacred service, must have had very fond and warm feelings toward Him. But how was their subconscious affected by being bombarded with images of men who abused and tortured a helpless victim? Maybe some of the self-aware had given this thought. My guess was that many had never made any connection between the visual depictions of their beliefs and their daily lives because most people are like this.

If you carefully read the Gospel accounts of the crucifixion, you will find that the men--those who had power in that day--were not the ones who come out looking very good. First, all of the 12 disciples were of no use to Christ during his trial. Nor do we read about any disciple rushing forward to help Jesus carry His cross or give Him water or an arm around the shoulders. John tells us that he was known to the high priest and was allowed to go inside to witness what was happening in Pilate's hall. But there is no evidence that any of Christ's followers ever spoke up in His defence or attempted to protect Him. Except Peter, of course, who cut off the ear of the high priest's servant. Perhaps when Jesus told him that this was unacceptable, the others didn't know what to do or how to act. So they did nothing. That would be the generous interpretation of what they did. Mark says that they all turned and fled. Then he implicates himself by telling the almost comical story about himself, who narrowly missed being seized by running naked out of his clothes. He sounds like a real hero of the cross.

Judas went out and hung himself when he realized the consequences of his acts. The other men were Caiphas and Pilate--both who were on the wrong side of the equation when it came to Jesus. But the priests and the soldiers were the ones who physically harmed Jesus. His disciples harmed Him emotionally, even though Jesus told them ahead of time that this would happen. The ones who came to bury Him after His death--Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimethea--did so privately (read, "cowardly" here) so as not to incur the suspicions of the priests.

When we look at the cross experience, we can see that it was the marginalized of the day who were the most useful to Jesus. Simon of Cyrene, a North African, Black man, was compelled to carry Jesus' cross. And there was a group of women at the cross: Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of Jesus and her sister, and Mary the mother of Clopas. It must have been comforting in a small way to see His mother and some of the women who had followed Him.

John was "standing near" (John 19:20) and received Jesus' mother into his care. But where were all the other men? This was the question I had on the day when I stood looking at the statues at St. Mary of the Woods. Did the nuns consider themselves extensions of the group of women who had been standing at the cross? I think there is some evidence for this sentiment. How then, might they connote the priest's leadership in their male-dominated religion? Does this set up a subconscious man-bad, woman-good perception for these sisters?

It is quite possible that the disciples and other upstanding men were uncertain about the rules of engagement, since the crucifixion and life of Jesus had defied so many conventions already. I'm sure there are valid reasons why we aren't given more information about the "good" men at the crucifixion. And I'm not trying to perpetuate the man-bad, woman-good notions that some may hold. But the lasting image I have of the crucifixion is of a gentle yet strong man being tormented and killed by other men, while a group of women pressed close. Is it silly sentimentality or a feminine recoiling from violence that kept the women at the cross? It was a mother's love perhaps, that would not allow them to leave the site of their suffering loved One. And thus have mothers been, historically.

Walking along the back of the property at St. Mary of the Woods, one can see the cemetary full of identical white headstones that say RIP on the front of each one. There are hundreds of nuns who sleep in that graveyard, who lived amongst the stations of the cross for the better part of their lives. As I slowly moved through each row of graves, noting the names and dates of their living days, I wondered what they had really thought about men. I guess we're not going know that for awhile. But my contemplation there continues in contemplation here about how I am affected by Bible stories and their parallels in my life today.