WALKING THE VIA DOLOROSO

By Penny Zettler

A few years ago I served as a co-pastor during a week of family camp at our denominational campgrounds. We decided to structure our daily worship by celebrating a different holiday each day.

To observe Easter we took a life-size wooden cross and, as a group, walked it down from the chapel to a peninsula on the lake. Families traveled together, children held the hands of their fathers, and young mothers carried their infants. We had formed our own Via Dolorosa procession.

Because the cross was heavy, several men were forced to take turns carrying it. Watching my own father bear the cross for a portion of the journey moved me powerfully.
When we reached the point overlooking the shimmering lake, we stood the cross up so, from the campgrounds across the water, its reflection could be seen clearly. Then I handed everyone a dark ribbon to nail to the cross.

As the sound of the hammer reverberated across the lake, I was moved by thoughts of how sad and expensive the crucifixion truly was. We watched as children approached the cross with their parents, holding their ribbons and nails. Tears flowed down our faces. It all became personal. Even the children seemed to understand something of salvation's great price.
The next morning we met at the cross for devotions. But during the night, the dark ribbons had been replaced with white ones. Everyone seemed thrilled to see the cross now ...