The Passion of Christ is not just a story to listen to or a drama to contemplate. It is a path to follow, a mystery to inhabit, an invitation to stand close to Jesus in his darkest hour. The Gospel does not ask us to explain Christ's suffering. It invites us to enter into it, with him. Not to do something, but to be there. Present. Faithful. In prayer.
These five verses can help us to accompany Jesus in his Passion. Not as spectators, but as companions. They are not to be read quickly, but meditated on slowly. To welcome in silence. To let resonate in the depths of our hearts.
"My soul is sad beyond words. Stay here and watch with me." Matthew 26:38
In the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus gives a glimpse of his humanity in all its fragility. He is not a fearless hero. He is a man who trembles, who suffers, who feels anguish, loneliness and exhaustion. And at that moment, he's not asking for speeches. He asks for a presence. "Stay here. Watch with me."
This verse is an invitation to silent faithfulness. To accompany Jesus is already to stay there. Not running away. Not falling asleep. Being present to his suffering. Offering our attention, our heart, our prayer. Comforting him with our simple presence, as we would a friend.
"Father, not what I want, but what you want." Luke 22:42
This word, spoken in the night of agony, is one of the summits of the Passion. It does not erase Jesus' fear, but it shows his absolute trust. He gives himself up. He places his will in the hands of the Father. He chooses to love to the end.
By meditating on this verse, we too are called to surrender. To lay our struggles, our resistance, our fears in God's hands. It's a simple prayer, but an immense one. It can become an inner breath: Lord, I don't always understand, but I trust you. I let myself be led.
"Then all abandoned him and fled." Mark 14:50
Jesus' solitude is total. Even those closest to him disappear. They had sworn never to leave him. They flee, out of fear, panic, weakness. And Jesus remains alone. Facing his judges. Alone in the night. Alone, in injustice.
This verse is an invitation to recognise our own fleeing, our abandonment, our silences. But it is also a call to stay, this time. Not to flee. To stand where others leave. To accompany Jesus in his Passion is also to say to him: I know I have already abandoned you, but today I want to stay.
"He was mistreated, and he humbled himself; he did not open his mouth." Isaiah 53:7
This verse from the prophet Isaiah, long before the Gospel, already announces the Passion of the Suffering Servant. Jesus is that servant. He is beaten, accused, insulted, and he remains silent. He does not respond to violence with violence. He offers himself, he gives himself, without defending himself.
It is this silence that shocks. This silence that speaks louder than the cries. By accompanying him in this silence, we enter into the logic of disarmed love. Of absolute non-violence. Of self-giving. We are invited to listen to this silence. To enter into it. To let it shape us.
"All is accomplished." John 19:30
These last words of Jesus on the cross are not a cry of failure. They are a cry of fulfilment. All has been given. Nothing was withheld. Love has gone all the way. The mission has been fulfilled. Trust is total.
By meditating on these words, we too can place our lives in the hands of the Father. To accompany Jesus in his Passion is to say to him: Lord, I give you back what I am, what I have experienced, what I do not understand. Do your will in me. Make something good of my life, even through my wounds.
Conclusion
To accompany Jesus in his Passion is not to find answers. It's about silence. Slowing down. Standing close to him. Looking at him. Listening to him. Perhaps crying. Pray surely. These verses offer us a path. An inner path, discreet, but powerful. A heart-to-heart journey with the One who gave everything out of love.
And perhaps by staying there, with Him, quietly, without demands, something stronger than suffering will be born in us: peace. Peace that does not come from the world, but from the cross. And that is already preparing, in the shadows, the light of Easter morning.
