Lourdes Lower Station 01

Lourdes Lower Station 01 - The Prairie Station

📍 Lourdes Lower Station 01 (Prairie Stations)

A Gentle Place Meets a Harsh Reality

Lourdes Lower Station 01 is so serene in nature. The trees shading each station the marble against the blue-sky background. In this open meadow everything seems to stand still — almost unnoticeable at first.

There isn't anything dramatic or jarring like the artistry of the higher stations, but still very welcoming.

The Prairie Stations are much easier terrain especially for the sick and handicapped.

Because what happened to Jesus in this moment was anything but gentle. The way the artist has cut into this stone making His hands so prevalent tied like he is dangerous.

Yet He is condemned unjustly and accused falsely, not to mention betrayed by those in power. Yet they couldn't do the dirty work, they handed him over to the crowd.

And yet, in this serene landscape, I feel how Jesus doesn’t resist it or say anything. His face is calm in full understanding of His mission for the Father.

The contrast is striking. In this place that brings peace to so many pilgrims, I am invited to face the unrest within myself. Not someone else’s guilt. Mine. My own tendency to turn away when truth becomes uncomfortable. My fear of what others will think. My temptation to keep quiet.

And at the same time, this first station tells me something just as important — that Jesus never turns away. Not from injustice. Not from suffering. Not from me.

Jesus is Condemned to Death

📿 Click here to open the Common Prayers for the Stations of the Cross

🙏 Reflection Prayer

Lord Jesus, the world judged You and found You guilty. But here in this soft and open meadow, I see how You responded — not with anger, not with blame, but with surrender.

Teach me how to face injustice without bitterness, and how to trust the Father’s plan even when I don’t understand it. In this gentle place of healing, I offer You the wounds of my heart.

I place before You the judgments I’ve carried — those spoken against me, and those I’ve spoken about others. Heal what is hardened in me. Unclench what has closed. Open my heart to grace.

Walk with me, even when the way feels hidden or hard to accept.
Let this journey through Your Passion become the road back to peace.

🧍‍♂️ Pilate and the Burden of Image

I always feel like the people involved that wanted to dismiss Jesus, tricked Pilate into this moment. Pilate deep down knew what the right thing was to do but he just wasn't strong enough and ended up folding.

Why? Because image mattered more. He was afraid of unrest. Afraid of losing control. Public opinion became his master, not justice. I'm not judging here myself, I'm observing what I may have done in my time.

Here in this gentle prairie near the Grotto, the contrast is impossible to ignore. Jesus — calm, surrendered, unshaken. Pilate — nervous, posturing, torn between conscience and convenience.

This meadow, so open and honest, exposes the tension between truth and fear. Between integrity and self-preservation. Between following God’s voice and following the crowd.

I have to ask myself: Do I ever do the same?
Do I prioritize how I appear over who I truly am?
Do I trade integrity for comfort? How often do I, like Pilate, symbolically wash my hands — as if avoiding the issue can remove my responsibility?

The cost of compromise is always deeper than it seems.

💙 Mary and the Virtue of Compassion

In the quiet of the prairie near the Grotto, I think of Mary’s eyes — watching Jesus be falsely accused.

She would have seen everything others missed. The lines of pain in His face. The fatigue. The heartbreak. A mother sees it all.

But her compassion didn’t stop at Jesus. I truly believe she reached, in her heart, even toward those who shouted for His death. Her soul was filled with mercy. Not because she approved of their actions — but because she understood the depth of human blindness.

Her compassion wasn’t limited to the innocent. That’s the part I can’t forget. She didn’t choose who deserved her love — she gave it, even in the face of hatred.

And I wonder: Could I love like that?
Could I see past judgment to the wounds beneath?
Could I choose compassion over retaliation, even for those who hurt me?

Mary invites us to look past what we see — and respond with mercy.

⚖️ When Justice Bends

Here in this soft, open space, the injustice of Jesus’ trial cuts deep. There was no fairness. No balanced trial. No real effort to understand.

The system was stacked. The court was rigged. The outcome was already decided. And still, Jesus stood there — calm, listening, saying very little. He didn’t argue. He didn’t try to defend Himself.

I don’t understand that kind of surrender. But I want to.

Because He wasn’t giving up. He was trusting something higher. He knew that justice on earth could fail — and it did. But there is another kind of justice that never fails. One that sees everything. One that restores what’s broken.

I long for that justice. But I also resist it, sometimes — because it asks me to change.

The world may get it wrong. People may judge unfairly. But God does not forget. And God does not abandon.

“God writes straight with crooked lines.” — St. Teresa of Ávila

🌾 Closing Reflection: A Meadow of Surrender

This station — tucked so quietly into the lower part of the Lourdes grounds — whispers more than it shouts. It doesn’t demand. It invites.

And that invitation is one of surrender. Of letting go of what we think is fair and trusting the One who knows what is good.

In this meadow, I come face to face with my own heart. My own resistance. My own longing.

Jesus accepted the sentence, not because it was just — but because His love was greater than the injustice.

And here, on this holy ground that welcomes the broken and believes in healing, I take my first step alongside Him — quietly, gently, but firmly. I begin this journey not by understanding everything, but by staying close to the One who does.