The Way of the Cross

About This Audiobook

This isn’t just another Stations of the Cross. St. Alphonsus Liguori’s *The Way of the Cross* is a visceral, 18th-century meditation that refuses to let you passively observe Christ’s Passion—it demands you *feel* it. The text’s blunt, almost confrontational language (‘*Consider how His face was bathed in blood*’) cuts through pious abstraction, while its rhythmic structure—short reflections paired with the *Stabat Mater*—makes it oddly kinetic. It’s less a devotional and more a spiritual boot camp for the soul.

Joe Hunninghake’s narration is the masterstroke: his voice carries the weight of a priest who’s prayed these words a thousand times, but with the urgency of someone who still means them. The pacing is deliberate, bordering on austere, with pauses that force you to sit with each station’s brutality. At under an hour, it’s designed for repetition—ideal for Lent, but just as piercing in July. The Latin *Stabat Mater* (included in full) isn’t just decoration; it’s a gut-punch reminder that sorrow has its own melody."

"review": "I’ll admit, I approached this skeptically. The Stations of the Cross can feel rote, even maudlin, in lesser hands. But Liguori’s text is *alive*—it’s the difference between reading about a storm and standing in one. His reflections on each station are stark, almost cinematic. When he describes Jesus meeting His mother, the line ‘*What a meeting must that have been!*’ hit me like a slap. This isn’t hagiography; it’s raw, unflinching love.

Hunninghake’s performance is the reason this works as an audiobook. His voice has a gravelly warmth, but he resists melodrama. The Latin *Stabat Mater* could’ve felt like a gimmick, but he delivers it with such quiet conviction that it becomes the emotional core. My only critique? The production’s minimalism is a double-edged sword. The lack of music or ambient sound (even subtle church acoustics) sometimes makes the transitions between stations feel abrupt. And at 48 minutes, it’s *short*—but that’s the point. This isn’t meant to be binged; it’s meant to be *revisited*, ideally while walking, ideally when you’re already a little broken. The final station’s promise of resurrection lands harder when you’ve been forced to stare at the cross first.

**Who’s it for?** Catholics who’ve grown numb to the Passion, or seekers who want to understand why the Cross still *hurts*. Not for the faint of heart—or the spiritually complacent."

"tags": [
"Catholic devotionals with teeth