By the Rev. Peter M.J. Stravinskas
Today, the Church gives us the opportunity to meditate on the mystery of the Cross, and guides us in our thoughts and feelings by calling this feast the “Exaltation” or the “Triumph” of the Cross. Today, we glory in the Cross; we even rejoice in the Cross. We wear red vestments, a sign of royalty and victory. We sing: “Lift high the Cross, proclaim the love of Christ; let all the world adore his holy Name.”
This, at least, seems somewhat “out of tune” with the modern mentality regarding suffering and death. In fact, Father Paul Straub coined a word to describe our contemporaries’ reaction to the Cross: “cruciphobia”, fear of the Cross! I’m glad to say that I learned early to avoid that disease.
I was born with several serious health problems and had to undergo painful treatments.
On one of those occasions, the technician in charge was a nun who told me: “Peter, your mother tells me that you want to be a priest. A priest is a man of sacrifice—like Jesus, the High Priest. I know this is going to hurt a lot, and I’m truly sorry. But I want you to do something. I want you to look closely at the crucifix on my habit. See how Jesus suffered for you out of his great love. Tell him that you love him too, that you want to unite your sufferings with his, and that you desire to offer this pain for your priestly vocation.”
It didn’t eliminate the pain, but it made it more bearable, because it placed it in a larger context: one involving divine love, the salvation of the world, and my future life as a priest. Thanks to that nun—whose name I never knew—, I haven’t experienced a single day of “cruciphobia” since then.
In August 1998 I went to Lithuania to help in the reconstruction of the Church after decades of communist oppression. There was very little time for sightseeing, and my host asked if I had any “must-see” place. I replied: “The Hill of the Crosses.”
For me, that place was—and remains—the perfect symbol of the Church in all ages. Every cross planted there recalls the suffering endured by Christ’s followers; all those crosses together bear witness to the indomitable human spirit, strengthened by the Savior’s Cross. That’s why Pope John Paul II also included the Hill of the Crosses in his pastoral visit to Lithuania in 1993.
One more story. A world-renowned rabbi and I collaborated for years on many projects, including a book, researching various theological issues from our respective traditions.
One of those topics was suffering. (The rabbi had lost a daughter in a tragic car accident in which he himself was the driver. He never managed to overcome that tragedy).
One day we reflected on the mystery of suffering, particularly the suffering of the innocent, and spoke of the unsatisfactory solution offered by the Book of Job. That very day was the Feast of the Exaltation of the Cross. I mentioned that in Christ’s Cross Christians find the meaning of all human suffering and death, and that that pain can truly be redemptive. The rabbi, with tears in his eyes, sobbed: “How I wish I could believe that!”
All this might lead us to ask: What is this mysterious fascination of Christians with the Cross and with carrying crosses personally? Most people flee from suffering, yet Jesus, in the Passion, marches bravely and determinedly toward the Cross with all that it entails in pain.
The Letter to the Hebrews tells us that Jesus learned obedience through suffering. The word “obedience” comes from the Latin ob-audire, which means “to listen attentively.” Jesus listened attentively to his Father’s will and acted accordingly. In fact, the greatest lesson in theology is learned by contemplating the crucifix attentively.
A symbol of ignominy for centuries was transformed by Jesus Christ. As Julian of Norwich said, we look at his wounds as honorable scars: signs of victory and love.
The Book of Genesis tells us that the cause of Adam’s disobedience was a tree; Jesus, always obedient to the Father’s will, takes that tree and turns it into an instrument of salvation. He is the reference point of history.
Therefore, today the Church invites us to venerate Christ’s Cross. Let us see in that invitation nothing less than Jesus’ invitation to come to him; he, who died for you, does not want your death, but your life. Naked and wounded, but still loving and our King, his outstretched arms call us and remind us: “And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all to myself.”
That attractive power of the Cross is the definitive triumph of the Cross. Therefore, every cross carried by any believer in history acquires meaning and becomes a source of life when united with the Cross from which Jesus reigned as King of Love and on which he triumphed in his glorious Resurrection. The Hill of the Crosses, then, is not a cemetery, but the antechamber of Heavenly life.
Our persecuted ancestors knew and believed this, as do the millions of persecuted fellow believers today around the world (a topic so aptly addressed by our editor of The Catholic Thing). We, comfortable and complacent Catholics, must learn the same lesson: not to flee from the crosses that come our way, not to blend in with a pagan culture to avoid scorn or persecution, not to try to design a soft and comfortable religion to our own measure.
No. We must embrace our own crosses, seeing in them the possibility of uniting them with Our Lord’s saving Cross. I would like to make a special appeal to those who suffer in any way: Do not “waste” your suffering or resent it. Offer it united with the sufferings of our Savior, and thus make it redemptive.
About the author:
Father Peter Stravinskas holds doctorates in school administration and theology. He is the founding editor of The Catholic Response and editor of Newman House Press. He recently launched a graduate program in Catholic school administration through Pontifex University.