According to the guide, the origin of the cross on the mountain is as follows. The people of Medjugorje Parish have always been poor, mainly subsistence farmers. In the late 1920s and early 1930s, due to several successive years of too little rain in summer and too much in winter, harvests were poor and thousands died from starvation. They approached the local Bishop with a plan to build a huge cross on top of their highest local mountain. This coincided with the Vatican requesting parishes worldwide to commemorate the 1,900th anniversary of Jesus’ death. When the Vatican heard of the plan for the cross, Pope Pius XI contributed a piece said to be from the original True Cross and this relic is contained in the crossbeams of the cross. Even the name of mountain was changed to Krizevac, meaning Cross Mountain.
The cross was constructed in 1933, it is over eight meters (or 27 feet) high, the mountain itself is 1,700 feet above sea level (although the base is already at a height of about 500 feet). In 1933 there was no heavy lifting machinery available so volunteers carried the sacks of cement and sand, the barrels of water, tools and the steel bars all the way up to the top. There is what is referred to as a path to the top today. There isn’t. A path is a smooth track and there is no such thing; only rocks, large and small, many jagged, some smooth, and an occasional patch of mud. What has been done is that the trees and shrubs have been removed for a width of six to ten feet in a zig-zag process meandering up the mountain side until the top. In 1933 they did not even have the benefit of such a ‘path.’
There are bronze images of the 14
Stations of the Cross paced at equal distances all the way up to the top (plus
a couple of extra ones and a memorial to Fr Barbaric).
We set off, G and I with
climbing boots and poles, most of the grannies with a stout stick – while three
men and a young lad went barefoot.
We adore you O Christ
and we bless you
For by your Holy Cross you have redeemed
the world.
Fr
Martin led the prayers at each Station, ending with a beautiful rendering of ‘Were You There when they Crucified my Lord?’
 |
| memorial to Fr Slavko Barbaric |
It was hard work. In all, it took us three and a half hours to go up to the top and then come back down – but all the grannies, granpas and youngsters made it. The 11th to 12th Station was the most difficult with extra-large rocks that made huge steps necessary.
At the top there was the cross where we said
a prayer. We had each carried a small stone from the base – in our hand, not in
a bag or pocket - all the way to the top, and now we deposited it with the
prayer and left both in the care of Our Lady. Some of the objects left at the
cross were sad, the photo of the young boy, presumably dead or very ill, for
example, and several of the pilgrims carried personal family burdens with them.
The cross bears a legend: To Jesus Christ, Redeemer of the human race,
as a sign of their faith, love and hope, in remembrance of the 1900 years since
the death of Jesus.
It was very still and peaceful at the
top, a light wind was blowing and there were panoramic views of the surrounding
countryside. Many of the pilgrims sat alone, lost in reverie.
 |
| view of St James Church from Cross Mountain |
 |
| making the way down the mountain...very carefully! |
The route down was quicker but not much
easier, it was a different challenge, mostly of keeping balance. All the
grannies etc. made it!
Sadly, we passed one elderly gent who had fallen and
badly hurt his head and his knee. Fifteen minutes later, I counted nine
uniformed emergency personnel making their way up the mountain, four carrying a
stretcher. I believe they may have been First Aid volunteers from Medjugorje.
When we were in the taxi (5 Euros) back
to town, G and I remarked how well we felt; there was not the least fatigue, my
bad knees and my painful broken elbow gave me not the slightest trouble on the
climb. As we devoured our waiting breakfast with relish, G, who eats sparingly
and is famously self-disciplined - and slim as a result - went for seconds.
Now, that’s a miracle!
Mass was in the Conference Hall
celebrated by an Indian (I think) priest serving in an Irish parish who sang
much of the Mass. I’m close to being tone deaf myself but the priest was
slightly better. A different priest then offered me the Host from the chalice
saying ‘Blood of Christ.’ I thought I was hallucinating – that’s what getting
up at 4am does to you – but there was nothing wrong with the local choir (of three
persons) who were outstanding, including one lady who both sang and played the
violin.
Evening Mass at 7pm in Croatian at the
outside altar with several thousand present – and an orchestra of 20-25 players
plus a choir of 40 – wonderful! The simultaneous radio translation into English
kept cutting out – I think my radio is faulty – and I had a problem relating
the priest’s introductory remarks about men needing liquid courage to go to a
dance with homily remarks about getting closer to Jesus. Never mind, the crowd
were commendably devout as usual, and the priests distributed Communion
effectively to the vast crowd, several persons on their knees waiting for the
wafer. The sense of reverence was palpable.
At 9pm it was completely dark. We met in
front of the statue of the Queen of Peace and one of our tour priests blessed
our candles and we then processed to the special area set aside for burning
candles with its large crucifix faced by rows of candle holders. There are
benches behind for supplicants to sit and pray in front of the crucifix as
their candles burn. The area is usually very busy – and unusually, everything
is carried out in complete silence. |
| Fr Martin catches up on his sleep after a tough day |
No comments:
Post a Comment