Like so many during Lent, I found myself last Friday night at a small parish church for the Stations of the Cross. In the evening quiet, the last light of day still glimmered through the windows, reminding us that spring, like Easter, is both near and not yet. This particular devotion is one I have come to cherish because, paradoxically, it is a prayer both deeply communal and profoundly personal at the same time. In a very real sense, praying the Stations with others is a joint pilgrimage as we all hear the same reflections, recite the same responses, and kneel, genuflect and stand in unison. Like any pilgrimage, there is strength in the company of the fellow travelers who…