The Cross and our crosses

 This is my homily for today.  Today's readings are here.

*** NOTE *** Today is one of those infrequent Sundays when a Feast of the Lord supersedes a Sunday in Ordinary Time.  September 14th is the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross.  (It used to be called the Feast of the Triumph of the Cross.)  Had this Sunday not landed on September 14th this year, today would have been the 24th Sunday in Ordinary Time.

Here is today's homily:

When I was at the parish yesterday morning, I happened to encounter a parishioner I know.  Her husband has a serious medical condition, and she is trying to serve as his caregiver.  She told me that when she got home in a few minutes, she would try to get him to stand and walk for a bit, because she wasn’t sure he had been out of his chair all morning.  It sounds like a simple task, but I could see it wasn’t something she was looking forward to.  Caring for her husband, whom I am certain she loves very much, costs her something – it exerts an emotional toll on her.  I think it’s fair to say, it’s a cross she is bearing.

Today’s feast, the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, invites us to contemplate one of the great mysteries of our faith, the mystery of the Cross of Christ.  I say it’s something we could “contemplate”, but perhaps “wrestle with” would be a better term, because the Cross of Christ is not something that naturally attracts us.  St. Paul tells us that in his day, for Jews the Cross was an obstacle, and for Gentiles it seemed foolish to venerate it.  And it’s a difficulty for us, too, in this place and time.  Why would anyone wish to take up a cross?

The cross was not a destiny that anyone would naturally wish for.  The cross was both a punishment and an instrument of torture.  It was also considered a source of shame and dishonor.  And yet, this man Jesus of Nazareth, who was executed on a cross, is precisely whom we are invited to adore, to worship as our Lord and Savior.  And I can’t stress this enough: we’re not invited to worship Jesus in spite of the Cross.  Quite the contrary: we worship Jesus on the Cross.  The Cross is central to our faith.  

If you’re wondering why we would worship Jesus hanging on an imperial Roman instrument of punishment and torture and disgrace, I can’t do better than point you to today’s 2nd reading, from St. Paul’s letter to the Philippians.  Did you happen to catch it when it was read a few minutes ago?  I’m not sure whether I’ve ever mentioned this: that passage from St. Paul might be my favorite passage in the entire Bible.  Scholars tell us it’s likely that those verses were a hymn – one of the very earliest Christian hymns.  And it’s a hymn worth singing, because it celebrates Jesus’ emptying himself.  “…he emptied himself, and took the form of a slave, being born in the likeness of men.”  And it’s because of this incredible humbling of himself on the Cross that we exalt the name of Jesus.  What love he showed us, in dying for us!  We might say that, as Jesus emptied himself on the Cross, he filled us with his love and grace.   As Jesus empties himself, he fills us.  

You may have heard it said, because Jesus himself has taught us, that if we want to follow him, we must take up our own cross, just as he did.  Well - that makes it real, doesn’t it?  It’s one thing to stand by like the residents of Jerusalem 2,000 years ago, and witness someone else dying on a Cross; it’s quite another for us to face the possibility that we may be the one carrying the cross, and then dying on it.  Yet that is part of the package; when we embrace following Jesus, we are embracing our cross.

For quite a few of us here, the cross isn’t future tense; it’s present tense and past tense.  We’re already carrying crosses, aren’t we?  For sure, the woman whom I encountered earlier today was carrying a cross.  Serving others on behalf of Jesus often means lugging a cross.  

And let’s face it: we wouldn’t be where we are today, with all the blessings we have, if others haven’t carried crosses alread on our behalf.  If you have parents who loved you, then you have absolutely had people who carried a cross on your behalf.  If you’ve ever had a spouse who loved you and was committed to your well-being, then you’ve had someone carrying a cross for you.  If you’ve ever had a teacher who worked with you individually to learn something, or ever had a hospital nurse respond to a button you pushed from your hospital bed in the middle of the night, or ever had a priest come on short notice to offer the sacrament of anointing to a loved one, then you’ve witnessed people carrying crosses on your behalf.  

To help us face up to carrying our own crosses, we have the examples of saints who have shown us how the way of service can be the way of the cross.  A saint’s story that has moved me is that of Saint Maximilian Kolbe, for whom taking up the cross meant giving his very life out of love for another.  You may know his story: he was a Polish Franciscan priest who resisted the Nazis.  He was arrested and sent to the Auschwitz concentration camp.  When a prisoner escaped, the prison authorities designated 10 prisoners to be starved to death, a prolonged and agonizing way to die.  One of the chosen 10 begged to be spared because he had a wife and children.  Saint Maximilian said, “I want to go instead”.  Maximilian stepped in for this other man, a stranger whom he didn’t know.  He saved this man’s life and died in his stead.  For Saint Maximilian, the Cross, the instrument of torture, shame and death, became a portal to everlasting life.

For Saint Maximilian, for the woman I met earlier today, for all the good people in our lives who have served us in the midst of their own suffering, and most of all for our Lord Jesus who emptied himself that we might have life, let our hearts overflow with gratitude.  

And now, may the Eucharist strengthen us to carry our own crosses, and to help others to bear theirs.