How much suffering can one family endure?

It was probably not a good idea to cover the Reformation and the religious wars of France right before we celebrated Holy Week with the Roman Catholics. When I took the boys to participate in walking the way of the cross on Good Friday, Cooper kept staring at everyone, suspecting they were looking for firewood along the way. I told him we were safe, but he was never quite sure.

When I first noticed this old stone path going up the hill— it was marked Chemin de la Croix, XVI Siecle, I was sure they would be doing something special here for Good Friday. Sure enough, they advertised a “Stations of the Cross- for families and children.” My kids persuaded me to stop for ice cream on the way (it was gouter hour, after all), and promised they would finish before the Stations— it was supposed to be family friendly, but I thought arriving with ice cream cones would be crass, even by American standards. 

Waiting to go up the Way of the Cross

It took a little longer than I wanted and by the time we got to the debarquement, it was already crowded. One group had already started, and they were staggering the small groups, going up with different priests. We went up with an older gentleman who appeared to be a Deacon, and did our best to be solemn for the occasion. The boys were great. There were a few other kids with us, but it was mostly adults. We didn’t have any programs, so my kids had no idea what was going on. The guy read the station, then let someone read a prayer, then he would give a little sermon at each station. My guess was, that as Deacon, he probably didn’t get to preach much, so maybe this was his big break. It was taking longer than I anticipated, but his little sermons were appropriate and thought provoking. The kids mostly paid attention to the readings (they were familiar with the stories at least), but during the sermons they were pretty lost, so they would kick around rocks or pick up bugs. 

About the fourth station, a group led by a young priest I recognized from church Sunday, came speeding up behind us. Our guy instructed us to step aside and the other group passed us. The other group was singing and Samuel looked at me accusingly. “Sorry” I whispered—Then the boys started complaining that we were in the wrong group—like the grocery store check out— the other line is always moving faster than the one you’re in.

Another station later, up comes another group, but they respectfully hang back and do their station downhill. Their guy has a loudspeaker strapped around him. When he’s done reading, everyone starts singing a little chant. Samuel leaned over to me and said “nothing like getting upstaged by a guy with a loudspeaker, huh?” Then our guy motions for them to go around us. Are you kidding me? Seriously? We were about to get lapped again!? This group began to pass us, and I noticed that they all have little handouts, and there’s a kid in front carrying a big wooden cross. 

We let them go by, then I motioned to my boys- this is it, we’re making break for it! So we turned and followed the other group. Sure I felt a little guilty. I know we’re supposed to suffer on Good Friday. One man was walking the hike with no shoes on; I’ve seen footage of people in some countries who whip themselves and cry the whole way of the cross. I get it; but know your audience! This was advertised as the family and children’s way of the cross. Even Jesus let the kids sit down, for God’s sake!

The new group had it all organized— who was reading, who carried the cross; they had their readings printed out, they had songs and clip art on the page. The kids were reading and singing together. Then I noticed a lady was helping the priest. Totally the DRE (Director of Religious Education). Yep- been around churches enough to know one when I see one. Figures. 

The day was saved, my kids approved and it ended with an amazing view, from an old path used by pilgrims for about 500 years, on the Chemin Frances, on the way to the Camino de Santiago in Spain, we’re told. It was very moving to see everyone participate in the practice; my kids responded better to the readings done by other kids. They saw the other kids carrying the cross and taking it seriously. I didn’t need to say anything more to my kids for the remainder of the afternoon. 

Note to my church friends— who probably won’t read this until after Easter Sunday when you’re in a puddle from working so hard to get Easter services done—good liturgy is the work of the people, right? It was beautiful to see it all come together.