Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross
The Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, celebrated
every year on September 14, recalls three historical events: the finding of the
True Cross by St. Helena, the mother of the emperor Constantine; the dedication
of churches built by Constantine on the site of the Holy Sepulchre and Mount
Calvary; and the restoration of the True Cross to Jerusalem by the emperor
Heraclius II. But in a deeper sense, the feast also celebrates the Holy Cross
as the instrument of our salvation. This instrument of torture, designed to
degrade the worst of criminals, became the life-giving tree that reversed
Adam's Original Sin when he ate from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil
in the Garden of Eden.
The Cross of Christ, the centre and pinnacle of God’s saving
work, is also the centerpiece of our faith. The cross reveals the most profound
depths of God’s love: “God loved the world so much that he gave his only Son”
(John 3:16). Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI tells us that “the cross … is the
definitive sign par excellence given to us so that we might understand the
truth about man and the truth about God; we have all been created and redeemed
by a God who sacrificed his only Son out of love. This is why the Crucifixion …
is the culmination of that turning of God against himself in which he give
himself in order to raise man up and save him. This is love in its most radical
form.” (Deus Caritas Est, 12)
Nevertheless, the cross remains a sign of contradiction – it
is both an unthinkable disgrace and yet a potent source of grace. It has
inspired confidence in armies to march into battle and others to sue for peace;
it has been used as a palpable symbol of power as well as powerlessness. And so
it is both despised as well as coveted by one human power or another –
Constantine used it as a talisman of power in the civil war with his brother
and the Persians claimed it as their greatest battle trophy over the
Byzantines.
So, how is the cross a symbol of power and powerlessness?
The symbolism of power hidden in the cross is often lost on us, and is only
revealed as a mystery of revelation. The Cross represents the Sovereign
authority of God and his providence. This is certainly difficult to comprehend.
Yet, what seems to us to be failure is, in God’s eyes, the victory of sacrificial
love. It is on the cross, that Christ receives the highest exaltation from God,
ironically, at the moment he suffered the greatest humiliation at the hands of
men. As Christ was lifted up on the Cross, now by means of the Cross, he lifts
up humanity, and indeed all creation. As today’s gospel reminds us, “for God
sent his Son into the world not to condemn the world, but so that through him
the world might be saved”. The Cross possesses the power to forgive sins which
are hidden, the power to heal consciences and human hearts. It is there that we
have been set free of the debt of sin and liberated from the clutches of death.
But paradoxically, the cross is also a symbol and an
instrument of powerlessness. There are few things that can match the depravity
of this instrument of torture and death. For a brief moment, where hours seem
like eternity, the Son of God gave up His access to the powers of the universe
so that He could die at our hands. On the wood of the cross, the most powerful
being in the universe chose to be powerless. The Lutheran theologian and
martyr, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, describes the profound significance of this
moment, “God allows himself to be edged out of the world and onto the cross.
God is weak and powerless in the world, and that is exactly the way, the only
way, in which he can be with us and help us.” So what God has done is that He
took an instrument of evil, an instrument that brings death and transformed it
so that it gives life, brings goodness and healing, and that’s what we hear
Jesus saying about himself, “When I am lifted up, as Moses lifted up the
serpent in the desert, then I will give life.” The instrument of death becomes
an instrument of healing, life and salvation.
The power and the powerlessness of the cross provide us with
the necessary lens to view our own suffering, our daily crosses. St John Paul
II, who prophetically wrote his first encyclical on Suffering, and would later
suffer that fate in the last years of his pontificate, uses the cross to
formulate his answer to man’s perennial dilemma – Why do we have to suffer. The
saintly Pope stated, with piercing simplicity, that the answer has "been
given by God to man in the cross of Jesus Christ." Each of us is called to
"share in that suffering through which the Redemption was
accomplished." Through his only-begotten Son, God "has confirmed His
desire to act especially through suffering, which is man's weakness and
emptying of self, and He wishes to make His power known precisely in this
weakness and emptying of self."
And this is the way we experience God’s power here on earth,
sometimes to our great frustration, and this is the way that Jesus was deemed
powerful during his lifetime. The Gospels make this clear. Jesus was born
powerless, and he died helpless on a cross. Yet both his birth and his death
show the kind of power on which we can ultimately build our lives. The cross of
Christ, therefore, teaches us that we can find power in weakness, in that which
makes us vulnerable and even seemingly powerless.
Perhaps, what makes it so difficult to accept the good news
of the cross, is that we are stubbornly hold on to power; we want to have a
“sense of control.” Henri Nouwen writes, “What makes the temptation of power so
seemingly irresistible? Maybe it is that
power offers an easy substitute for the hard task of love. It seems easier to be God than to love God,
easier to control people than to love people, easier to own life than to love
life.” Most of us fear our powerlessness in the face of illness and death. We
would like to retain an element of control, even though we realise that dying
often involves the very opposite: a total loss of control, over our muscles,
our emotions, our minds, our bowels and our very lives, as our human framework
succumbs to powerful disintegrative forces.
Even when those disintegrative forces become extreme and our
suffering may seem overwhelming, however, an important spiritual journey always
remains open for us. This path is a "road less traveled," a path
that, unexpectedly, enables us to achieve genuine control in the face of
suffering and even death. The hallmark of this path is the personal decision to
accept our sufferings, actively laying down our life on behalf of others by
embracing the particular kind of death God has ordained for us, patterning our
choice on the choice consciously made by Jesus Christ. As no one had ever done
before, Jesus charted the path of love-driven sacrifice, choosing to lay down
his life for his friends. He was no mere victim in the sense of being a passive
and unwilling participant in his own suffering and death. He was in control. No
one could possibly take his life from him, unless he chose to lay it down.
Jesus foresaw that his greatest work lay ahead as he
ascended Calvary to embrace his own powerlessness and self-emptying.
Paradoxically, it was when he most seemed powerless, that he was most powerful.
The cross would prove victorious when meeting our ancient enemies on the
battlefield – sin, death and evil would be defeated by the very sacrifice of
Christ himself. Jesus' radical embracing of his Passion — and our radical
embracing of our own — marks the supreme moment of a person, whose life seems
otherwise spinning out of control or into chaos, as God assumed control of
one’s life and destiny through our willing immersion into His hope-filled and
redemptive designs.