A Trip Around The Stations of The Cross

I went to catholic elementary and high schools, and what it taught me was to dislike religion, but embrace spirituality.

If you think that my exposure to religion was limited to come to that decision, understand this. I was a catholic, my mother was a Presbyterian, my father was Mormon, my step father was Anglican, my eldest brother was Buddhist and my elder brother was Bahai. Yes, we were an eclectic bunch.

I have no horror stories, as a lot of people do. I enjoyed school. I was a rebel, though. I constantly questioned the Catholic establishment, to the point that I am proud to say that, at the time, in my school’s entire history, I was the first student ever to be asked to leave religious studies class and never return.

At 15, I encouraged three priests to join me in a poker game, with the prize being a glass of communion wine. I won, and to their credit, they gave me grape juice.

Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t a bad kid. I was the kind of kid that had a lot of why questions. I always needed to know why I was expected to do something. Don’t tell me to do something without explaining why it had to be done.

I don’t dislike the Catholic church. I think there is a lot of good in it, but as with all religions, there are parts I can’t entirely agree with. And this, I don’t belong to any religion.

I do, however, love the sanctity and beauty of a church—any religious building, for that matter. And whenever I can, I enjoy visiting the ancient ones.

This last weekend, I drove to The National Shrine of The Divine Mercy in New Hampshire. I didn’t go inside, but outside is a series of sculptures of the Stations of The Cross.

For those of you who don’t know what that is, it is usually 12 pieces of art that depict significant pillars of Jesus’s journey to the crucifixion. Usually, they are paintings or plaques around the church’s inner wall.

Instead, these are life-sized sculptures of the stations. I found them disturbing, not wrong, but in a way that the artist intended. The faces are tormented, and you get the feeling of the distress of the time.

Here are some photos I took of the stations.