The Tenth Station: Jesus Stripped of His Garments
(Those of us who have had the privilege and honor of a pilgrimage to the Holy Land always make Jerusalem part of the holy time. There, although the Jewish Temple has been replaced by a grand mosque, we can see the very places we read about in the New Testament, the actions of our redemption through the life, passion, death, and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ. Many make the way of the cross, the Via Dolorosa, an ancient prayer service with stops at places that commemorate events of Our Lord’s tortuous journey to the place of His execution. Some of the stations, as they are called, are taken directly from the Gospels, some are inferred from the practice of crucifixion, and a few come from the more reliable Christian traditions.)
I am told that one of the most common dreams is of finding yourself in a school or party or other gathering without any clothing on. I've had that dream and probably some of you have as well. It's really terrifying, because it does have a meaning. It has nothing to do with sex. It has to do with being defenseless, unprotected, vulnerable. That's one of the meanings that Adam and Eve discovered the hard way after they had disobeyed their God's clear command in the Garden. Their contumacious action, a real slap in the face to the one who created them without sin, who was their protector, removed their real defense. They pathetically tried to shield themselves with vegetation, but they knew that would do no good. Their sin had alienated them from God, from each other, from true, selfless love, and even from their garden, the earth.
As Jesus descended from His divine majesty, glory and power, first to a feed-box in Bethlehem, then to humiliation before His people's leaders, the Roman judiciary, even the court of the evil Herod, and now to the hill of Calvary, His dignity was stripped little by little from Him. And now here He stands before the Judaean rabble stripped of the mock royal gear, His loincloth and the seamless garment that tradition tells us was woven by the hands of His mother. She stands, looking on as her beloved son feels scabs being torn from His tortured skin. No substitute vesture is offered. He lives everyone's nightmare in the sight of the whole world.
But what does any man take with him as clothing into the life after life? The funeral attire goes into the ground with him. Here is the man who in instructing His disciples for their mission journeys tells them to take no moneybag, no clothes except the tunic they wore as they walked. Christians in every generation since Christ's time have seen His example and heard His words and have accepted the call. St Francis, son of a wealthy clothing merchant, experienced the call of God and took those words to heart. He left everything to follow the Master. Some of our oldest religious orders are built on a radical acceptance of the call to poverty.
But all of us are called to that vocation, in one way or another. When the disciples returned to Jesus from their mission trip, he asked them “when I sent you out with no purse or bag or sandals, did you lack anything?” And they confirmed they had all they needed from the donations of the ones they served. So whether we are poor or wealthy in our situation, we are all challenged by word and example to keep only what we need for our families, and to give generously of the surplus to the poor and the needs of the Church. That's required, not optional.
In the end, even the garments Jesus wore were divided up by the soldiers who murdered Him. This is God's way with humans, to give and give and give even to the divine humiliation and detriment. For this we give Him praise, thanks and our grateful lives.
