Pinpointing My Little Piece of the Passion

Ashamedly, with the frenzied speed of life---both personal and professional---last Sunday I screeched and skidded into Holy Week. The whiplash was welcome.

This Holy Saturday, as the kids are quiet (well, the TV volume is low...) the image of Simon the Cyrene, the onlooker drawn into history by a call to help Jesus haul his cross is in the fore of my mind. Sunday School embellished romanticism aside (does it matter the color of his--or Jesus'--skin, or who directed him to tote Christ's load?), imagine that moment.

Somehow I doubt Simon was fully aware of the world-altering impact of this cross-carrying "criminal." How did Simon feel with his assigned task? He was in the wrong place at the wrong time? It was a mistake to make eye contact with that centurion ensuring the processional's passage? Or conversely, was he aching to assist? Whether this weakened, thorny crown wearing man was God's son or simply a sinner off to his demise, was Simon seeking to ease the last moments of a fellow human?

Placing myself in the sandals of that minimally described bystander on the Via Dolorosa is going to be my year-long call to action. The history and life details of those we encounter each day may be unknown. Looking at the parade going by, staring at the sensationalism and acknowledging the spectacle is not enough. No matter our faith or practice, we know to help, to pick up the yoke of the suffering as best we can...even if just for a short part of their walk.

PS - To lighten the tone a smidge, when I went to tag this post with "Simon the Cyrene," "Simon Cowell" came up as a past tag. Guess I have many miles to go before I can fully disassociate with my enthusiastic observation of the "spectacle"....