On his first Good Friday as pope, Leo XIV led the Way of the Cross at Rome’s Colosseum and carried a wooden cross for all fourteen stations, in commemoration of the path trodden by Jesus on the Via Dolorosa to his crucifixion and death in Jerusalem over 2,000 years ago.

30,000 pilgrims from all continents were present for this profoundly spiritual event which Pope Paul VI revived in 1965 but which goes back to the early centuries of Christianity when pilgrims went to Jerusalem to retrace the path of Jesus to his crucifixion and burial.

Leo is the first pope to carry the light wooden cross for all fourteen stations. His stop at each station was accompanied by prayers and singing and profoundly spiritual meditations that highlighted how the Way of the Cross that Jesus endured is being experienced again by humanity today because of violence, war and a lack of respect for human dignity.

The meditations were written by the Italian Franciscan priest, Francesco Patton, who spent many years of his life in the Holy Land, and who was the official Custos or Guardian of the Holy Places from 2016 to 2025. Each meditation is accompanied by a quote from the writings of St. Francis of Assisi. A connection is then made between what Jesus suffered and the immense suffering—the Way of the Cross—of people in so many countries today, including the Holy Land.

In this brief article, I will draw on only a few of the reflections. Readers may also wish to spend time with the full text.

The use and abuse of power

In a reflection that is particularly relevant to the present day, Father Patton focuses on the use and abuse of power both in the first station, when Jesus is condemned to death, and in the ninth station, when Jesus is nailed to the cross.

At the first station, he recalls that when Pilate says to Jesus, “Do you not know that I have power to release you, and power to crucify you?” Jesus answers, “You would have no power over me unless it had been given you from above.”

The reflection then calls upon the writing of St. Francis of Assisi: “Let whoever has received the power of judging others pass judgment with mercy, as they would wish to receive mercy from the Lord. For judgment will be without mercy for those who have not shown mercy.”

The meditation says Jesus, in his dialogue with Pilate, “unmasked every human presumption of power” and remarks that “even today, there are those who believe their authority is limitless, thinking they may use or abuse it at their whim.” St. Francis, following in the footsteps of Jesus, “reminds us that every person in authority will have to answer to God for the way they exercise their power: the power to judge; the power to start or end a war; the power to instill violence or peace; the power to fuel the desire for revenge or for reconciliation; the power to use the economy to oppress people or to liberate them from misery; the power to trample on human dignity or to uphold it; and the power to promote and defend life, or reject and stifle it.”

The reflection then concludes by reminding everyone that “each of us is likewise called to account for the power that we exercise in our daily lives.” To us also, Jesus says: “Make good use of the power given to you, and remember that whatever you do to another human being, especially to the small and vulnerable, you do unto me. And it is to me that you will one day give an account.”

Father Patton continues his reflection on power in the meditation on the ninth station. “Nailed to the cross like a criminal,” Jesus shows us “what true power is. Not the power of those who believe they can dispose of the lives of others by putting them to death, but the power of those who can truly conquer death by giving life, and who can give life even by accepting death.”

He says, “Jesus, You show that true power is not that of those who use force and violence to impose themselves, but that of those who are capable of taking upon themselves the evil of humanity—ours, mine—and destroying it with the power of love that is manifest in forgiveness. You are King and you reign from the cross: you do not resort to the supposed power of armies, but to the apparent powerlessness of love, which allows itself to be nailed to the cross You are King and your cross becomes the axis around which history and the entire universe revolve, lest they be plunged into the hell of the inability to love.”

The reflection concludes with a prayer: “O crucified King, you remind us that if we want to share in your kingship, we too must learn to forgive for love of you and to bear the difficulties of life in peace, because it is not love of power that conquers, but the power of love. Let us pray, saying: Teach us to love. When we suffer injustice: Teach us to love. When we would seek revenge: Teach us to love. When we are tempted towards violence: Teach us to love. When forgiveness seems impossible: Teach us to love. When we feel crucified.”

Mary as mother

At the fourth station, the meditation focuses on motherhood when Jesus meets his mother. The reflection says, “It is natural for a mother to be present at the beginning of our lives. It is not natural for her to be by our side at the moment of our death, because that means that life has been taken from us—whether by illness, accident, violence or despair,” but that is what happened to Mary; she was also at the foot of the Cross on Calvary.

The meditation speaks of Jesus: “You ask her to become a mother once again, to continue to be the mother of the beloved disciple, of each one of us, of the Church, of the new humanity born at the very moment when you give your life and die.”

The meditation concludes by asking Mary “to look with tenderness upon each one of us, but especially upon the many—too many—mothers who, like you, even today see their children arrested, tortured, condemned and killed. Look with tenderness upon the mothers who are awakened in the middle of the night by heartbreaking news, and upon those who keep vigil beside a dying child in a hospital.” 

It asks her: “Comfort us, O Mother. For mothers who have lost their children: Comfort us, O Mother. For orphans, especially those bereaved by war: Comfort us, O Mother. For migrants, the displaced and refugees: Comfort us, O Mother. For those who suffer torture and unjust punishment: Comfort us, O Mother. For the despairing who have lost their sense of purpose in life: Comfort us, O Mother. For those who die alone.”

Jesus falls three times

In the seventh and ninth stations, the meditations recall that Jesus falls three times carrying the cross, and they link his falls to our own. 

“When you fall, Jesus, you do so in order to lift us up from our own falls. When you fall, you do so to raise up those who are crushed to the ground by injustice, by falsehood, by every form of exploitation and violence, and by the misery produced by an economy that seeks individual profit rather than the common good. When you fall, you do so to lift me up as well.”

The meditation continues: “Your falling three times reminds us that there is no fall of our own in which you are not beside us. You are with us in all our frailty, and you both can and want to lift us up after each fall. For you desire that each of us, at your side, may reach the Father and find life—true life, eternal life—the life that nothing and no one can ever take away from us.”

The meditation concludes again with a prayer, “Make us your instruments, Jesus. To lift up all who have fallen: Make us your instruments, Jesus. To lift up those who lie on the ground: Make us your instruments, Jesus. To lift up the most frail: Make us your instruments, Jesus. To lift up those we judge as having “brought it upon themselves:” Make us your instruments, Jesus. To lift up those who seem beyond hope.”

Women’s tears on the Via Dolorosa

At the eighth station, Jesus meets the women of Jerusalem and tells them: “Do not weep for me but weep for yourselves and your children.”

The meditation recalls that “from the beginning of your ministry, Jesus, women have followed you and cared for you. They are there even now, standing at the foot of the cross.” Likewise today, it says, “Women are present wherever there is suffering or need: in hospitals and nursing homes; in communities dedicated to care and providing shelter; in foster homes for the most vulnerable children; opening schools and clinics in the most remote mission lands; and tending to the wounded and comforting survivors in war zones and areas of conflict.”

Addressing Jesus, the meditation says, “Women have taken you seriously, and even now they take to heart your demanding words. For centuries, they have wept for themselves and for their children, children taken away and imprisoned during protests, deported by policies devoid of compassion, shipwrecked on desperate journeys of hope, killed in war zones, and wiped out in death camps. Women continue to weep.”

It concludes with a prayer, “Grant each of us, Lord, a compassionate heart—a maternal heart—and the grace to make the suffering of others our own. Give us tears once more, Lord, lest our conscience fade into the fog of indifference and we cease to be fully human. Let us pray, saying: Give us tears, Lord. To weep over the devastation of war: Give us tears, Lord. To weep for massacres and genocides: Give us tears, Lord. To weep with mothers and wives: Give us tears, Lord. To weep over the cynicism of the powerful: Give us tears, Lord.”

Jesus is stripped of his garments

The meditation for the tenth station addresses Jesus: “Your garments are torn from you in a cruel attempt to humiliate you and strip you of your human dignity.” 

It continues with an indictment: “This violation is repeated time and again even today: when authoritarian regimes force prisoners to remain half-naked in bare cells or courtyards; when torturers tear away not only clothing but also skin and flesh; when authorities permit forms of surveillance and intrusion that disregard human dignity; when rapists and abusers reduce their victims to mere objects; when the entertainment industry exploits nudity for the sake of profit; when the media exposes individuals to public opinion; and even when we ourselves, through our curiosity, fail to respect the modesty, intimacy and privacy of others.”

The meditation concludes with a prayer, “Remind us, Lord, that each time we fail to recognize the dignity of others, our own dignity is diminished. And whenever we condone or take part in inhuman behavior toward any person, we ourselves become less human.”

At the end of the Way of the Cross, Pope Leo simply gave the blessing of St. Francis, and then returned to the Vatican, where tomorrow night he will preside at the Easter Vigil.

Gerard O’Connell is America’s senior Vatican correspondent and author of The Election of Pope Francis: An Inside Story of the Conclave That Changed History. He has been covering the Vatican since 1985.