The Via Dolorosa which Christ walked on the way to His crucifixion was a main street through Jerusalem. It went through the shopping district, with shops selling food, clothing, household goods. It was a normal shopping day, so crowds were everywhere. There were smells of food, spices, people, animals. There was noise of voices, haggling, greetings, braying of animals. And into this bedlam came a small procession, a struggling nearly naked prisoner carrying His cross, and two men following carrying their own. They were surrounded by Roman soldiers with their whips and their swords, loudly calling for people to make way, and unhesitatingly punishing those who didn’t listen.

We don’t know who Veronica was, really. She isn’t mentioned in the Gospels, but her story is mentioned as early as 324 AD. Perhaps she was a shop keeper, or a wife shopping for her daily groceries. More likely, she was a follower of Jesus and her heart was crushed to see Him struggling painfully along, humiliated and condemned, His face bloody from the crown of thorns, His back scarred from gashes of the whip. It must have been a gut-wrenching sight to see anyone in that condition. But to see Jesus enduring that pain was unthinkable!

There was really nothing she could do. It was dangerous at this time to declare yourself a follower of this man. She certainly didn’t want the same fate as He was enduring! Yet it seems Veronica’s compassion overrode her common sense. She had nothing to give Him except a cool drink and water on a cloth to wipe His sweating, bloody brow. And so she came to Him and offered what she had. She may have approached as He fell, daring to run past the Roman soldiers guarding Him. She probably knelt in the dirt of the busy road to offer her gifts of love: a cup of water and soothing cloth.

It was appreciated. As Jesus stumbled along, in agony, and humiliation, amidst all the noise and jeering and cruelty, this woman came with an expression of compassion and comfort. She gave him water; how sweet it must have tasted then! And the cool, wet cloth wiping the blood from His eyes and His fevered brow; how comforting! Probably most people passing by didn’t even notice the scene playing out; they were too busy to care. Veronica was just an ordinary woman to those who might have seen her, nothing special, or extraordinary. But to Jesus she was. Maybe that is why her story is recounted in the Stations of the Cross; she is a model of the compassion of an ordinary person.

The procession moved on. She stood up once more, looked at His bleeding back as He struggled down the street. She looked down at her cloth, and there, in the fabric itself, was the face of Jesus somehow transferred. Jesus was now with her in a new way- a changed way, but present nonetheless. I believe that she was never the same.

Whenever humiliation and suffering contort a human face, there is the face of Jesus. The faces of suffering surround us . We pass them daily, wheeling their grocery carts of belongings, begging at street corners as we drive by. They are children trying to understand their abuse, eyes full of tears, hearts full of pain and hate. Wherever suffering exists, Jesus’ face is there. Maybe the lesson for us in this tradition of the 6th Station of the Cross, is that whenever and wherever we see suffering, we are called to see our Lord in those who suffer, and do whatever we can (even in the simplest of ways) to offer hope and help. He still looks for us to wipe away his blood and tears. It will change us. And we, too, might see His face, and experience Him in a new way!

Lord Jesus, what you ask of me is hard. It requires courage and self-sacrifice like I see in Veronica, ad like I see in You on your Way of the Cross. Please guide me to see, strengthen me to act, Help me allow my compassion to overcome my hesitancy as I see Your face in others. Use me like You used Veronica, and make me more like You. Amen