orginal stations/all 14/art by Amy

kisstheson

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The first Station: JESUS CONDEMNED TO DEATH


Jesus is condemned to death???!!! Those words take my breath away and send a chill through my heart. How could Jesus be condemned to death? Jesus? What had He ever done wrong to be sentenced to such a cruel punishment? Who has the right to pronounce this judgement?​


What was it like for Him at that moment to hear those words. Did He breathe a trusting sigh to Abba? See how humble He stands, the weight of so many chains binding Him, the sign proclaiming His "crime" hanging form His neck?​


Jesus, God true God, humble Prisoner....melt this heart of stone! I want to be like You, never complaining, always trusting Abba, but I cannot do this unless You enable me. The next time I complain that life is unfair and I have gotten the short end of the stick help me to remember You standing before Pontius Pilate, excepting the sentence of death for love of me.​


When I call sweet dove, do not turn Me away!
If you are lacking love for Me, you only need pray.

~Jesus
 

kisstheson

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Station2a.jpg


The second Station: JESUS ACCEPTS HIS CROSS

Come My beloved cross! For thirty three years I have been searching and sighing for you. And now I embrace you and hold you close to My heart for you are the altar upon which it is My will to lay down My life out of love for My Bride! ~Jesus

Jesus! I am totally floored by Your love! How can You do this, carry the insturment of Your own death through the streets where crowds will taunt and abuse You? It's easy for me to wear a nice golden cross around my neck. For some it is even a fashion statement. I wonder if You knew that one day Your cross would become a piece of jewelry dangling from our ears, sported on tee shirts, jackets and bumper stickers ~ the profound impact of what the cross really means, lost in our own self absorbed life styles? I say I wear the cross because I love You but now that I watch You embrace Your cross knowing every step will be like the spliting of the Red Sea, a momentous event, putting Your one foot in front of the other, I know I don't love You enough. Not enough!
Please help me!


He who comes to Me I will in no wise cast out.
~Jesus, the Gospel of John
 
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kisstheson

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The third Station:
JESUS FALLS THE FIRST TIME.

Here You come Jesus, dragging Your heavy cross! My sins have added to the weight of that rough hewn timber biting into Your shoulder already raw from scourging. You're used to carrying heavy pieces of wood. You, a carpenter by trade. This task should be nothing for You. At the soldier's command You try to walk like a man, holding the cross upright, but Your body trembles and Your knees give way. The crowd laughs at Your humilation. No one comes to Your aid. How many times have I been embarrassed and wanted to hide from the ridicule of others? I wanted to look good, put my best foot forward but the exact opposite happened. I felt I could have died of shame. Not You! You get up! You grit your teeth and push Yourself up into a standing position. What motivates You Jesus? Is there something more than the soldiers stinging whip driving You onward? You turn and look at me and Your answer resounds in my heart:

"What I would not do,
for love of you!" ~Jesus


--------------------


 
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kisstheson

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The fourth Station:
JESUS MEETS HIS AFFLICTED MOTHER

Jesus...how does it feel to be You? You, Jesus as Man, carrying the painful cross, the people lining the narrow street defiant, fists clenched, unmovable, unshakable, rock hard in their resistance. So many have come out to see Your death march. Do You hear them calling down curses on You? Jesus You have come up against a wall of humanity. The soldiers try to make a way through the crowd with their spears so that You may pass. They are impatient.

"Get a move on!" a soldier jeers. His whip plows Your back, "Hurry!"

Did You long then to see one friendly face? What You would have given for even a thimble full of sympathy? But see! Here is one who loves You! There she is, her face a mold of sorrow and compassion, Your precious Mother! You are comforted by her silent, tearful love. You know if she were able, she would tear the cross from You and suffer in Your place. A look can say so much. You Jesus looking through the squint of a blackened eye, gave Your Mother courage. She would keep company with You to the very end.

Jesus are You looking into the world today? Who will greet You with love? Who will step forward and acknowledge friendship with You despite the ridicule of the unfriendly mob? Forgive me for the times I stood by watching Your pain and did nothing, pain as Your Name is taken in vain, pain as You are mocked in movies and on TV. Your Mother Mary didn't think twice. Against all odds she took the side of her suffering Son. Jesus look again with that gaze that strengthened Your Mother Mary and by Your grace, I will stand and be counted among Your followers. I too will cry out: "Look Jesus! Here is one who loves You! I love YOU!"

Would you know the countless tears I weep o'er the souls of men?
Would you share My sufferings and rise with Me again? ~ Jesus

 
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kisstheson

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The fifth Station: SIMON OF CYRENE HELPS JESUS CARRY HIS CROSS.

The crowd groans with disappointment. You've fallen again. They want on with it. They want an exsecution! You're holding up the parade!

"Get up!" So many voices shouting at You.

The soldiers pull on the rope around Your neck as though You are a dog. The whip slices into Your back again and You whimper like a dog and wheeze like a person who cannot catch their breath.

I know You Jesus! You never give anyone Your second best. Your beloved John said it so well, "He loved...to the last and highest degree." You want to make it, to climb the hill and give the ulimate sacrifice. Not now! You don't want to give up now! If only someone would help! You try to rise, to go on... Jesus, did You whisper a prayer, "Father...please help Me..."

What's that? Someone's protesting loudly. He doesn't want to be defiled by Your blood, Yourcross. He resists being identified with a criminal, but some how he comes, the man who moments ago complained about You. He's there lifting the cross from Your back, a portion of the beam on his own shoulder. The strong man grips Your hand and You're leaning aginst him, too weak to stand on Your own. You can do it now. You have enough strength to lift Your tortured head and see who has been forced to carry Your excution tree. There's no anger on the face looking back. You're surprised to see tears welling in his eyes. You hope he knows how thankful You are. He's a Jew, like You. Your brother. He links arms with You behind the cross. The burden is not as heavy. Jesus, You breathe a sigh of relief, certain You'll make it up the hill.

When You come to me in ways I don't expect will I protest? Will I refuse to come along side of You? When You don't "act" the way I think You should will I disown You? I'm afraid Jesus. I know I'm a weak and sinful person. Let Your Passion and love for me melt my heart and give me the grace to always choose Your will and not mine.


Lost within My dripping locks you shall know that I am true.
There beneath your cross you shall find Me too!
The heaviest portion of the beam My shoulder's carry.
Come! Be yoked with Me, My love! Do not tarry!
~Jesus
 
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kisstheson

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The sixth Station:VERONICA WIPES THE FACE OF JESUS.

I gave My back to the scourgers and My cheeks to them that plucked out the beard. I hid not My face from shame and spitting. The prophet Isaiah was speaking about You, wasn't he Jesus? I'm shocked that You gave Yourself to this treatment, this ...mistreatment.

You are coming into view more clearly now. I can see Your face, bruised and battered, Your one eye nearly swollen shut, the down pour of blood from the thorns has made Your face completely discolored. Jesus I know how much blood can come from one small cut on the scalp and here You are with an entire crown of sharp thorns thrust upon Your head! I wonder, how can You walk? How can You see to place one foot in front of the other? The blood drips into Your eyes. For a moment You stand still trying to see through that curtain of blood and tears, looking like a lost man seeking to find his way in the dark.

It just isn't fair! Why You? Why would anyone want to spit on Your face? Yet, I see traces of saliva clinging to Your cheeks. If I could wipe Your face clean of all the hurt and abuse, the filth of my sins...Please! Someone help Him!

That woman! Was it love or courage that made her dare to defy the commands of the guards and their pointed spears and run straight to You? She looks frightened enough but she doesn't let her fears stop her. Quickly she removes her veil, spotless and white and presses it to that terrible mess on Your face. Mostly everyone has been looking away in disqust. Not her! She removes her veil and stares straight into Your deformity and for a second You see clearly her face full of compassion and love for You.

Was that gesture like a kiss to Your broken heart? Did her eyes strengthen Your resolve to continue Your difficult journey? She would have her moments also of pain and difficulty, so You left her something that would help her during hard times, the image of Your sufferingface imprinted on her veil.

Dear Jesus, I'm asking for the same gift. Please press the image of Your suffering into my heart. Help me never, never to forget this Jesus, the One who suffered all the agonies of His Passion for me. Give me grace to memorize every detail in this picture as I trace the source of every wound: my sins. Without You I can do nothing. I'm asking that You IMAGE Yourself, Your love in me and through me!

What hours will you spend wiping My soiled Face?
What tears will you shed for your Saviour's disgrace?
Many arrows have broken My heart.
But your kisses heal My wound in part!
~Jesus
 
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kisstheson

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The seventh Station:​
JESUS FALLS THE SECOND TIME.

You didn't mean to. There was that rock. Someone threw it in Your pathway. You tried to avoid it but You stumbled and fell. The cross came down hard on You. Sweet Jesus, You're lying in the street. Your fall has opened fresh streams of blood as the entire right side of Your head is pushed against the flatstones. The thorn crown shoots lightning bolts into Your brain. Waves of nausea sweep over You. A sea of faces bathed in blood...(That film of blood covering Your eyes again.) The faces mock Your weakness.

The blood from the thorn crown and multiplied lashes has dampened Your hair and robe. Jesus you are soaked in Your own blood. This dampness makes for difficult moving and causes a violent trembling to seize Your body. I watch You crawling on Your knees and every where You turn You are threatened by the point of a Roman spear. The Romans want You up and walking. They say You have waisted enough time! How will You rise? Any other person would want the bloody mess over with. I would want the sacrifice completed right then and there. You have already gone the extra mile. Hasn't Your scourging paid for my sins? You WANT to get up and go on? No more Jesus! Please! No more!

But You do it! You get up! I am amazed as You take Your place again beneath the cross along side Simon. You leave a trail of blood as You limp along the narrow way. The going is slow but You're going. You're moving one step at a time, determinned to give everything!

Jesus I'm afraid of falling. I'm afraid I won't make it all the way. You know, I'm so scared I won't be strong enough or that I'll fail as Your disciple. I'm fearful of my weaknesses. Yet as I follow You in Your Passion I believe I have found a true Comrade. You show me that You embraced all my falls. When I feel like giving up You didn't and chose to carry me all the way, despite my failures. You bore me even to the cross and beyond. I feel myself being bound to Your heart now. Dare I say it? Jesus I love You. When I am weak You are strong.


My love, a little branch are you, so do not be afraid.
I am the strong Vine. Abide in Me and you truly shall be saved.
~Jesus

 
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kisstheson

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The eighth Station:​
JESUS CONSOLES THE WOMEN OF JERUSALEM.

This time I hear You before I see You. I hear the heavy cross bumping against the stones as You drag it along. I hear the gasping and panting of a dying Man. You've just turned the corner. Here You come bent low beneath the tree. I strain to get a glimpse of You. You stop, struggling to catch Your breath. Incredibly the crowd falls silent. Some how the crowd is more sympathetic. There are mostly women. I see Your chest heaving. Where the two timbers meet You lift Your head. Now You're up close and in Person. I see the blood flow, Your watery gaze, Your hands shaking on the cross bar and I am broken. Is it the horror of what my sins have done to You that breaks me or the love that I see undesguised despite Your marred countenance? Oh Jesus!

There's not a dry eye among us. We remember. We haven't forgotten how You loved us, took care us, healed the sick, touched the lepers, struggled with us, suffered with us, shared our bread, kept company with us, embraced us. You came to us, Friend of the poor and the lonely. What's happened to You, Jesus the Nazerene, the Son of Israel, Yeshua Din N'Zareth

You turn and speak and the ancient Aramaic language is like a song when spoken by You, Your matchless voice. "Daughters of Ye-ru-sa-ly-em! Do not weep for Me!"

You've forgotten Yourself again Jesus! You tell the women to think about their children and what will happen to them. A sad lament escapes Your lips. "For if these things are done when the wood is green what will happen when it is dry?"

But I do weep Jesus as I recall Your Passion. Make me a green tree! Don't let me become hardened and dry. Plant me within the rich soil of Your love and let my roots go deep down into Your heart. Make me a green leafy tree, a shade and comfort for You when the world rejects You. When sin crouches at my door, help me to cut it off by the roots!


Gently I carried My cross so close to My heart.
You must know beloved, of that wood you were a part.
Every shame, every sin,
every hardship was etched within.

~Jesus

 
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kisstheson

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The ninth Station: JESUS FALLS THE THIRD TIME.


Jesus face down in the dirt, bleeding into the dust, wracked with pain. Were You humiliated by the taunts and jeers of the crowd? I see You've fallen on the stones again. Are the stones symbolic of my heart, cold and hard as I sometimes can be, even towards You? But when You fall on that hardened place something gives way. Your suffering, Your gentle way, Your forgiving gaze, Your submission is melting my stoney heart. My resistance gives way. Your winning me over Jesus! Oh how You must love me to suffer like this! I believe! Now You have suffered more than enough! Let go of the cross and come home, back to Your Father who loves You.


But Jesus You don't let go of the cross. You've become one with the wood. You cling to Your burden. All Your effort is spent on making Yourself stand upright. You do it to...amid a torrent of sweat amd blood running from YOUR face and body. You intend to go on. The most difficult part of the journey is still ahead of You. I see Your legs are trembling from weariness. Jesus what is driving You to continue on up the hill towards even greater tortures and humiliations?


All besought Me, "Lay the cross down! Let go. Let go!"
But the strength of a Lover's passion, they did not know. ~ Jesus
 
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kisstheson

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The tenth Station: JESUS IS STRIPPED OF HIS GARMENTS.


Now the full truth is revealed.The total horror of what the soldiers have done to You is exposed. Jesus You told Your disciples that You would disclose Yourself to the one who loves You, but not this! Not You standing here, vulnerable, naked, stripped of every shread of decency. Jesus the Man of men, the laughing stock of the mob clamouring to see You suffer.


I knew it would be bad. I knew I would feel sick when I saw what lay beneath Your blood soaked robe. They have decimated Your body. My Jesus, full of wounds and purple bruises from head to foot, so many lashes I cannot number them. My God I thought I knew how terrible it really was, Your scourging. Jesus...my sins did this to You?


It's time to call it quits! Calling all angels! They must be here ready to rescue You. I'm not worth it. No more humilation for You Jesus!

Now I really am crying. They have thrown Your cross down on the ground behind You and are showing the nails to the centurion...


I had vowed My love before time was begun.
How I loved YOU with each rising sun!
I carved YOUR face in redemption's plan,
long before a nail ever broke My hand.
~Jesus
 
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kisstheson

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The eleventh Station: JESUS IS NAILED TO THE CROSS!


Jesus...didn't You know? Wasn't Your sufferings presented to You even before You came from Heaven to live among us? Didn't You tell Your disciples, Your friends time and time again that this ~ Your Passion was going to happen? How long did You know about it? How many years before the actual event took place did visions of Your execution play in living color before Your eyes? John says it clearly, "And Jesus knowing all that was going to happen to Him..." You Yourself made it plain that You had the fore knowledge, "I am the Good Shepherd. I lay down My life for My sheep. No one takes My life from Me. I give it freely."


I saw the women offer You drugged wine, but You turned away, flat out refusing it. Didn't You realize how painful this would be? Look at those strong, rough and tough hardened soldiers! Their used to this brutality. It's their job. They have been trained well and are experts in their field: Crucifixion.


The first nail is poised above Your hand. I don't know how I manage but I dare to watch. I have to because I want to remember every detail of all that is happening to You. The soldier swings the hammer high and then iron meets iron, driving the spike into Your flesh. I watch Your face. I think that perhaps because You are God the Son that You will transcend the pain. I'm hoping and praying You won't feel it. Your divinity will overcome, but I see the look of startled surprise in Your eyes! The second hit of the hammer I see You shut Your eyes so tightly that tears squeeze past Your eyes lids. The third hit and Your mouth is gaping, sucking in air.


I'll remember that look of startled surprise. Jesus, the Man, the very human Man,You were shocked as we would be by the terrible pain, excruciating ~ crux-ci-fix-ion pain. Although You had always known this would happen to You, when it actually did, You reeled from the agony of nerves severed shooting fire into Your brian.


For me Jesus? All this for me? How much more will You endure?


"The cross My Body pressing, pressed YOU.
ALL your sorrows I intimately knew.
And loving you beyond what mortals dare,
Boundless, limitless, My Heart I did not spare."
~Jesus
 
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kisstheson

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The twelth Station: JESUS DIES ON THE CROSS!



From the throne of His cross the King of Grief
cries out to the world of unbelief:
"Oh men and women afar and nigh,
is it nothing to you that I bow My head,
and nothing to you that My blood is shed?
Oh perishing souls to YOU I cry!"


Jesus...yes You cry but with more than words. With countless tears of blood streaking Your tortured body, with sweat oozing from every limb, with sighs and groans as You struggle to breathe by raising Yourself by standing on the spikes driven through Your feet and pulling on the nails in Your hands. You cry as knifes of pain slice through Your arms and legs and constrict Your heart. You cry for love, to love and to be loved:



"I thirst!"



You shouldn't be here. Not surrounded by filth and the stench of death. Not by people who hate You. Jesus I thought everyone knows how gentle and kind You are, how You would give the shirt off Your back if anyone asked for it and how You always bravely speak the truth.



It's time to go now. Let's close the curtain on this drama. You can come down from Your cross...



My JESUS! Not Your last tear! Not Your last drop of blood! Not the last sigh from Your lips! I am shaken! The earth is shaking and darkness is pulled over You like a shroud.



When at last a ray of light kisses Your body the truth is revealed. A soldier drives a spear into Your heart...



"I am gentle and humble of heart." You once said.



The truth is certain now...Jesus is dead. Blood and water flows from Your massive side wound, a testimony that You really did give everything for me. You loved me to the last and highest degree. Your disciple John wrote that. He is here watching.



I can't believe that You tasted death for me! I really didn't think it would come to this and all to pay the punishment for my sins. I didn't realize how evil my sins were and that they would cause...this. But You pleaded for me,



"Father forgive them for they know not what they do!"



I cling to Your lifeless body and look up into Your Face...



If I ever forget...If I ever forget...! Oh help me, my Jesus!



And piercing My Heart a soldier's spear.
I opened My side to hold YOU near.
~Jesus
 
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kisstheson

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The thirteenth Station: JESUS IS TAKEN DOWN FROM THE CROSS.


The soldiers are having a hard time of it, pulling the nails from Your hands and feet. So deeply embedded in the wood of the cross the nails are. But at last You are free, free to be received into arms that love, not obstinate, not hateful, not pushing, shoving or rejecting. Sweet embracing arms, they wrap around and hold You close to heart just like You should be held, like You deserved to be held AND wanted.

Mary’s rocking gently her son. She looks at me through her tears. I also can come near and partake in this sacred moment. I see the ravages of body, the wounds like opened mouths pleading for compassion, the terrible gash in Your side, the blood bath that not even the down pour of Heaven’s tears can wash from Your battered flesh.

Now it’s time to kiss Your broken hands, the blackened crucified palms. Now it’s time to remember the hands that blessed so many and fed hurting people the bread of mercy. Now it’s time to weep over the feet which walked in goodness. It is time to cover the head with tender touches but how? The thorn-crown has claimed Your beautiful head and must be pried away. No more thorns! Roses! Roses instead! Please!

Bring out the ointment! Bring out the nard and spices! Love Jesus! Hold Him close! At last He is delivered from the hands of ruffians. Oh I love you my Jesus! Thank You for what You endured for my sins!

As I bend to kiss Your broken heart I am hoping You can feel it. Why did it take me so long to come to love You? Why did I wait to follow You? Now I want to love and follow You and never let go!


I long to be loved! The Man of men!
I long for the how and the when?
Now can you feel My Heart swell?
Oh I love YOU well!
As you free Me from the wood and you, I indwell!
~Jesus


 
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kisstheson

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The fourteenth Station: JESUS IS LAID IN THE TOMB.


Jesus…I hate goodbyes, especially this one. I stand with Your followers at the open grave in front of the big stone. There are several here but my thoughts are of Mary Magdalene, John the beloved, and MaryYour Mother. I watch Magdalene weeping in the agony of her grief. How she loves You! She is nearly mad with despair, And John, Your best friend, tries to be strong by lending a supportive arm to Your Mother, but he is badly shaken and his dark eyes are heavy lidded from the long, long bitter night of watching Your suffering. He looks like a man who has seen too much and has aged before his time. Your Mother…Her dear face is a mold of sorrow. Tears drip down her cheeks. Yet her eyes portray a resolution and a firm acceptance of the will of God. She is the strong one. Magdalene, John and I are her children. She pats our hands and with gentle care assures us that all will be alright.

Jesus…will everything be alright? I hate this shroud between You and I. I don’t like rocks or boulders or distances between us. I don’t want You to be in a place where I can’t find You. Why this darkness? When will come the day when I can at last touch Your face and kiss Your hands? I cannot bear to see John place the linen shroud over Your face, covering all that is beautiful in my world. Even Your face swollen and covered with bruises is beautiful. Poor one eye injured and closed during much of Your trials, I would kiss Your eyes one more time. Now John tenderly forces them both shut.

Jesus…I have followed Your Passion step by step. I have seen how You did not keep no part of Yourself from me. I have watched You choose every inch of Your sufferings, each lash, the amount of thorns that would press Your head, the weight of the cross, the bitterness and pain of the nails, moment by moment, the time in which you would stay on the cross and now, at the end of You journey You choose to be buried in a grave that another had to supply because You didn’t have Your own. You my Jesus, choose to be a poor beggar at the end of Your journey.

Jesus…is this how You chose to win my heart by loving my soul so passionately as to love me unto poverty, humiliation and death? You, oh great King, came in the guise of a humble beggar to win the heart of a slave, a slave to sin…My innocent Jesus …YOU HAVE WON MY HEART! I want to shout the words as I watch the soldiers roll the stone in front of the grave. YOU HAVE WON!

Set Me like a seal on your heart,
like a seal on your arm, for love
is strong as death, jealousy
relentless as Sheol, the flash of it
is a flash of fire, a flame
of Yahweh Himself. Love no flood
can quench, no torrents drown!
~Jesus
(Song of Songs 8:6)
 
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JoabAnias

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Nice Amy. Much more moving when posted together. :)


Yes and we can come into this thread and actually do the stations of the cross.

Kudos Amy. Nice work.

What would you think about copying this to the Chapel to preserve for posterity?

Did you know St. Francis made these popular and obtained from the Church a plenary indulgence attached to the recitation of the stations?

For some of us, its as close as we will ever get in our lifetimes to a pilgrimage to the Via Del a Rosa. ;)
 
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