Why Me? A Letter from Simon of Cyrene

I did not expect that day to change my life.

I was just passing through, another face in the crowd. There was noise everywhere, people shouting, pushing, watching. I kept my head down, minding my own business. And then, suddenly, everything stopped.

Strong hands grabbed my shoulders. Before I could even react, the cross was placed on my back. And the first thing that rose in my heart was this: Why me? There were so many others. Why did they choose me? Why did I have to carry this? Why did all the eyes suddenly turn toward me?

The wood was rough. It dug into my skin. The weight pressed down harder with every step. I could feel the stares. I could hear the murmurs. I felt exposed. I felt ashamed. I did not want this. I did not choose this. And yet, there I was… carrying His cross.

Step by step, I followed behind Him. And then… He slowed. He turned. And our eyes met.

I have never forgotten that moment.

I expected anger. I expected desperation. I expected nothing at all. But what I saw… broke something in me. There was pain in His eyes, deep, unbearable pain. There was sorrow, like He was carrying the grief of the whole world. But there was also something else.

There was love.

And somehow, in the middle of His suffering, it felt like He was thanking me. Not because I was strong. Not because I chose this. But because I was there. Because I was walking with Him.

And in that moment, something changed. The cross did not become lighter, but it was no longer meaningless. I was no longer just carrying wood. I was walking beside Him.

I did not understand everything that day. Not then. Only later did I begin to see.

When you gather for the Good Friday service, you will watch as the cross is brought forward. At first, it is covered, hidden, almost as if it is something we are not ready to see. And then, slowly, it is unveiled, piece by piece.

And I wonder if, in that moment, you will see what I only began to understand at the end. What looked like shame… is love. What looked like defeat… is mercy. What looked like the end… is not the end at all.

Because I once stood there, confused, asking, Why me? And I did not realise… I was standing so close to love itself.

So I ask you now, as someone who has carried that cross, even for a moment: What is the cross you are carrying today?

Is it the silence after losing someone you love… the empty chair, the voice you wish you could hear one more time?

Is it the moment you sat in a room and heard a diagnosis you were not ready for, and everything inside you just sank?

Is it lying awake at night, wondering how to make ends meet, going through the numbers again and again, hoping something will change?

Is it the day you lost your job, and with it, a sense of direction, of stability, of who you thought you were?

Or is it the quiet weight of loneliness… being surrounded by people, yet feeling unseen, unheard, forgotten?

I did not choose my cross. And I know… many of these, you did not choose either.

But I have learned this. That burden I carried brought me close to Him, closer than I ever expected. Step by step, breath by breath, I was no longer just a man pulled from the crowd. I was walking beside the One who was giving everything out of love.

And so, when you come forward to venerate the cross, do not rush.

When you kneel, let it be real. When you bow your head, let the weight be honest. And when you lean forward to kiss the feet of Jesus, do not come empty.

Bring your cross with you. Bring the grief. Bring the fear. Bring the questions you still do not have answers to. Bring the parts of your life that feel too heavy to carry. Lay them there.

I remember what it felt like to kneel at the foot of that cross, the dust beneath my knees, the silence that seemed to fall over everything, the weight in my chest that I could no longer carry on my own.

And in that moment… I began to understand.

He was not just carrying His cross. He was carrying mine.

So I return to that question I once asked: Why me?

I have my answer now.

Because He saw me. Because I mattered to Him. Because even in the middle of that crowd, He did not overlook me.

And you… He does not overlook you either.

The cross you carry today is not unseen. The weight you feel is not ignored. The burden you bring is not yours alone to carry. Because the One who walked that road… walks with you still.

So when you rise from that moment this Good Friday, after you have knelt and kissed the cross, you may still feel the weight. You may still have the questions.

But rise knowing this: You were never carrying it alone.

And perhaps, like me, you will begin to understand.

Why me?

Because you mean everything to Him.

That’s why. (BV)

(This piece is a prayerful reflection written from the perspective of Simon of Cyrene. While rooted in the Gospel account, some details are imagined to help us reflect more deeply on the meaning of the cross.)