Every Lent, something quietly returns to Catholic life.
On Friday afternoons, churches grow still. The air feels heavier, more prayerful. Families gather. Children kneel beside their parents. The faithful move from one image to another, tracing the final steps of Jesus. The Way of the Cross, also known as the Stations of the Cross, has become one of the Church’s most beloved Lent devotions.
And yet, many of us have never asked how this devotion began.
We know the fourteen stations. We know the prayers. We know the familiar responses. But who first walked this sorrowful path in prayer? Who first returned, in loving remembrance, to each place where Christ suffered?
In the recorded visions of Blessed Anne Catherine Emmerich, we are given a tender and profoundly Marian image: Our Lady herself revisiting the places of the Passion after the Resurrection, praying them in silence long before wooden stations were ever placed on church walls.
The Church permits belief in private revelations but does not require it. They do not add to the Gospel. Rather, when authentic and carefully discerned, they help the faithful meditate more deeply on what has already been revealed in Christ. The visions recorded by Blessed Anne Catherine Emmerich have long nourished Catholic devotion, especially during Lent.
This Lent, perhaps we are being invited to walk more slowly. To walk more prayerfully. To walk with Mary.
Who Was Blessed Anne Catherine Emmerich?
Blessed Anne Catherine Emmerich was born in Germany in 1774. She entered the Augustinian convent despite poverty and fragile health. From an early age she displayed extraordinary love for Christ’s suffering. Later in life, she bore the stigmata—wounds corresponding to those of Christ—and endured great physical suffering united to His Passion.
Her visions of the life of Jesus and the Blessed Virgin Mary were recorded by the poet Clemens Brentano and later published in works such as The Dolorous Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ. Though the Church makes careful distinctions regarding the literary transmission of her visions, she recognized her heroic virtue and beatified her in 2004 under Pope Saint John Paul II.
It is important to remember that private revelation, even when approved, is not binding on the faithful. Catholics are free to accept or decline it. But throughout history, many saints and spiritual writers have drawn strength from such accounts because they illuminate the Gospel with vivid love.
In Emmerich’s meditations on the Passion, the sufferings of Christ are described with striking detail. Yet woven throughout is the presence of Our Lady. She is never distant. She is never merely an observer. She remains united to her Son in a way that is quiet, steadfast, and prayerful.
And it is here that we encounter something beautiful: a hidden origin of the Way of the Cross.
After the Resurrection: Mary’s Daily Pilgrimage
According to the visions recorded by Blessed Anne Catherine Emmerich, after our Lord’s Ascension into Heaven, the Blessed Virgin often returned to the places where He had suffered.
In The Dolorous Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ, Emmerich recounts: “After our Lord’s Ascension, the Blessed Virgin frequently visited all the places which had been sanctified by His sufferings. She went with deep recollection and love, meditating on all that had there taken place. She contemplated anew every circumstance of His Passion, and her heart was pierced with the most profound sorrow and gratitude. She often remained long in prayer, and her tears flowed abundantly as she knelt upon the ground which had been watered with the Blood of her Son.”
There is something deeply moving here. Mary does not turn away from Calvary. She does not avoid the memory of suffering. She returns to it in prayer.
Emmerich continues with even greater tenderness: “She traced again in spirit the whole way of the Cross. At each spot she recalled what her Divine Son had endured there, and she adored the eternal designs of God accomplished through His sufferings. Her sorrow was no longer that of anguish alone, but of love and holy submission. She offered herself anew in union with His Sacrifice for the salvation of mankind.”
Here we see what true Marian devotion looks like. Mary’s grief has been transformed. It is no longer only the anguish of Good Friday. It has become an offering. A union. A quiet participation in redemption.
In another passage describing these visits, Emmerich writes: “The holy places were to her as living witnesses. Each stone, each path, spoke to her heart of the sufferings of Jesus. She moved slowly from one to another, praying and weeping, yet filled with interior peace. Thus she kept alive in her soul the remembrance of His Passion and offered it continually to the Heavenly Father.”
If these visions are to be believed, then the first Way of the Cross was prayed not by crowds, but by a Mother.
Before the Church formalized fourteen stations, before Franciscans spread the devotion through Europe, before parishes printed booklets for Lent, there was Mary—walking, remembering, praying.
From Mary’s Devotion to the Church’s Stations
Historically, Christians from the earliest centuries longed to visit the holy places of Jerusalem. Pilgrims walked the path believed to be the Via Dolorosa, praying at the sites connected to Christ’s condemnation, His falls, His crucifixion, and burial.
When access to the Holy Land became difficult, the Church sought a way to bring Jerusalem to the faithful. The Franciscans, entrusted with care of the holy sites, played a key role in spreading the devotion throughout Europe. Churches began to install stations along their walls so that believers could spiritually unite themselves to Christ’s Passion without leaving their homeland.
Gradually, the fourteen Stations of the Cross became a universal practice, especially during Lent. What began as pilgrimage became interior pilgrimage.
Seen through the lens of Emmerich’s visions, we might say that the Church’s devotion echoes the hidden prayer of Mary. The faithful now do together what she once did in silence: they return to Calvary in love.
Why the Church Encourages the Stations During Lent
Lent is a season of conversion. The Church calls us to prayer, fasting, and almsgiving, not as burdens, but as paths to freedom.
The Way of the Cross fits naturally into this season. It slows us down. It invites us to contemplate. It teaches us that suffering, when united to Christ, is never wasted.
The Catechism of the Catholic Church explains that Christ’s Passion is the unique and perfect sacrifice by which He reconciled us to the Father. When we meditate on His suffering, we do not repeat His sacrifice. We enter into its fruits. We allow His love to touch our wounds.
For Filipino Catholic families especially, the Stations of the Cross are often woven into parish life. Yet sometimes they are prayed quickly, almost by habit. Lent invites us to rediscover their depth.
Each station is a moment of encounter. Jesus falls. Jesus meets His Mother. Jesus is stripped. Jesus forgives. These are not distant events. They are living mysteries. When prayed slowly, they soften hardened hearts and teach children that love is faithful even in suffering.
The Plenary Indulgence and the Mercy of the Church
The Church, in her maternal wisdom, attaches a special grace to the devout praying of the Stations of the Cross.
An indulgence, as explained in the Catechism of the Catholic Church, is the remission before God of the temporal punishment due to sins whose guilt has already been forgiven. Even after sin is absolved in Confession, there remains a need for purification. Indulgences, flowing from the treasury of Christ’s merits and the communion of saints, assist in this healing.
The Enchiridion Indulgentiarum, the Church’s official handbook on indulgences, grants a plenary indulgence to those who devoutly pray the Stations of the Cross under the usual conditions. These include being in a state of grace, receiving sacramental Confession and Holy Communion, praying for the intentions of the Holy Father, and being free from all attachment to sin, even venial sin.
This is not meant to be complicated. It is an expression of mercy.
The Church is saying: when you enter deeply into the Passion of Christ with repentance and love, grace flows abundantly.
For families, this can be a powerful encouragement. A simple Friday evening devotion, prayed sincerely, can draw immense spiritual fruit. Parents can gently explain to their children that the Church desires their holiness. That heaven is not distant. That grace is real.
The plenary indulgence attached to the Stations of the Cross reminds us that this devotion is not merely symbolic. It is a privileged path of mercy.
Walking the Way of the Cross With Mary
To walk the Way of the Cross with Mary is to allow Lent to enter the heart of your home in a quiet and transforming way. For many Filipino families, faith is already woven into daily life — a crucifix above the door, a rosary hanging by the bedside, a small altar with candles and images of the Sacred Heart and Our Lady.
The Stations of the Cross can become a natural extension of this living faith. Imagine gathering on a Friday evening, perhaps after dinner, when the house has grown calm. The children may still be restless, the day’s worries may still linger, but together you stand before the first station. You begin not as experts, not as theologians, but as a family simply trying to love Jesus more. When you reach the Fourth Station and see Jesus meet His Mother, pause there a little longer. Tell your children that Mary understands suffering — she understands exams, financial stress, illness, misunderstandings, and silent sacrifices. She understands the quiet tears parents shed when no one sees. Walking with Mary means you do not face hardship alone. It means that every small cross carried inside your home can be united to Christ’s great Cross.
As you move from station to station, encourage each family member to offer something: a difficulty at school, a burden at work, a worry for a relative abroad, a prayer for the souls in purgatory. In this way, the Way of the Cross becomes deeply personal. It is no longer just a Lenten obligation but a shared offering of love. For Filipino Catholics, whose devotion is often expressed through processions, novenas, and communal prayer, the Stations can feel especially meaningful when prayed together. There is something powerful about hearing your child softly say, “We adore You, O Christ, and we bless You,” and realizing that faith is being planted gently in their heart. Walking with Mary also teaches tenderness. She does not rush past the suffering of her Son; she remains. In a world that moves quickly and distracts easily, the Stations invite your family to slow down and stay close to what truly matters.
Over time, this practice shapes the atmosphere of your home. It teaches patience. It strengthens unity. It builds spiritual resilience. When Lent arrives each year, the Stations can become a familiar path your family knows well — not a burden, but a comfort. And perhaps one day, when your children are grown, they will remember not only the prayers but the feeling of standing together before the Cross, knowing that Mary was standing with you, guiding your family gently toward her Son.