Step It Up

Friday morning Jesus was taken by the priests and people to Pilate to have him condemned to death. The Roman praetorium was built to exude authority, and so the massive steps leading up to Pilate's presence were carved from marble--white marble that was splashed with red blood as a beaten Jesus was dragged up and down before his contending captors.

For centuries the recognition has been that the only way to ascend those steps now is on one's knees. Saint Helena, mother of Constantine, journeyed to Jesus' own land from Rome in order to bring back relics of his life and death--in 326, roughly, she brought back part of her own empire's architecture, relocating Pilate's front porch to the Rome it had symbolized.

And so Good Friday in the morning three of us, Father David, Father Larry, and myself, joined the long line extending from the front door across the street from Saint John Lateran Basilica. Pilgrims from around the world were praying the rosary, reading the Scriptures, or waiting in silence as they prepared to ascend the steps of Christ's trial.

It hurts to go up 28 steps on your knees--a tiny reminder of the vastness of a love that would suffer vastly more for our sakes.