Luke 23:26-31: a reflection

26When they led him away, they grabbed one Simon of Cyrene, coming from the country, and laid the cross on him to carry it after Jesus. 27A great multitude of the people followed him, including women who also mourned and lamented him. 28But Jesus, turning to them, said, “Daughters of Jerusalem, don’t weep for me, but weep for yourselves and for your children. 29For behold, the days are coming in which they will say, ‘Blessed are the barren, the wombs that never bore, and the breasts that never nursed.’ 30Then they will begin to tell the mountains, ‘Fall on us!’ and tell the hills, ‘Cover us.’ 31For if they do these things in the green tree, what will be done in the dry?”

As Jesus is led to his crucifixion, weighed down by his own suffering, a crowd follows, including women who weep and mourn for him. And Jesus, in the midst of his own agony, turns his attention to them: Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me, but weep for yourselves and for your children. Even on the way to his death, Jesus is not consumed with himself; his concern turns outward, to the coming sorrow of others, and he warns and comforts them.

Notice the selflessness of Christ here. He was on his way to be crucified, suffering already, facing the worst that lay ahead; and yet his thoughts turned not to his own pain but to the women weeping for him, and to the grief that would come upon them. Even in his own deepest agony, Jesus cared for others, thinking of their sorrow rather than being wholly absorbed in his own. His love did not turn inward under suffering, but continued to reach out.

That is a striking example of love that endures even in suffering. When we suffer, our pain naturally turns us inward; we become absorbed in our own trouble, with little thought to spare for others. And there is nothing wrong in tending to our own real pain. But Jesus shows a love that, even in its own agony, still reaches out to care for others. Ask God for a love like that: one that, even in your own suffering, does not become wholly consumed with yourself, but can still turn outward to care for others. In your own pain, remember the Christ who, on the way to the cross, still had concern for the weeping women; and let his selfless love shape yours, so that even your suffering does not close your heart to others.

Lord Jesus, on the way to your crucifixion, weighed down by your own suffering, you turned to the weeping women with concern for them: do not weep for me, but weep for yourselves and your children; even in your own agony, your love reached out to others rather than turning inward. Teach me from that selflessness. When I suffer, my pain naturally turns me inward; I become absorbed in my own trouble, with little thought to spare for others. And there is nothing wrong in tending my own real pain. But you show me a love that, even in its own agony, still reaches out to care for others. Give me a love like that: one that, even in my own suffering, does not become wholly consumed with myself, but can still turn outward to care for others. In my own pain, help me remember you, who on the way to the cross still had concern for the weeping women; and let your selfless love shape mine, so that even my suffering does not close my heart to others. Enlarge my love, Lord.