My dear brothers in Christ as we approach Holy Week and the Paschal Triduum, I want to take a moment to ask you an important question: How close are we to the cross?
Our answer will give us an answer to what is, quite possibly, the most vital question we must ever consider: How close are we to Christ?
So, let us take a moment to consider: Are we close the cross…
- like Pilate and the soldiers of his cohort?
- like Simon of Cyrene?
- like the mockers atop the hillside?
- like the leading priests and the teachers of religious law?
- like Mary Magdalene and the other women?
- like the Blessed Mother?
Consider Pilate and his soldiers. Their role is plain – the execution of justice and the realization of its demands. They are, of course, impartial… Pilate goes so far as to wash his hands of the matter. The soldiers, of course, are ‘just following orders’. In their jeering, their striking, their nailing, they will be covered with blood, sweat, flesh, and spittle. They will become utterly filthy – and they will revel in it! ‘One more dead Jew to teach this nasty nation a lesson about rabble-rousing.’ For them, Christ is not the son of a woman, or, really, even a human being deserving of respect. With one solitary exception – the officer who presided over the entire sad affair and was convinced in his heart of the truth – we hear nothing but contempt from the civil officials charged with ‘maintaining truth and justice’, or, if we are being more honest, Roman terror, alive and well in Judea. Is this our connection to Christ? One of mocking and jeering and washing our hands of it? You might say, “Why would anyone be here, in this place, for a worship service on this day if this was the case?” And yet I can ensure you that, if you look within yourself, there are times when you have joined with those who loaded the burden upon the shoulders of Christ through words, actions, or inaction. This does not mean you cannot find redemption – certainly the Roman officer was led to confess Christ as Son of God… but renewal of life begins with honest self examination… and honesty demands we consider this as a possible proximity to the cross.
Next, let us consider Simon of Cyrene. To be honest, we don’t really know a lot about him. We know he was a passerby who was roped into carrying the cross for Jesus. We know he had two children, Alexander and Rufus. We know he was from a Greek colony in what is modern-day Libya. He was in town because there was a Cyrenian Jewish synagogue in Jerusalem where many from the colony would go to celebrate the Feasts of the Jewish faith. We know nothing else about him with any certainty. What we do know is that, of all the people who come into direct physical contact with the cross, he would have come away the cleanest. No nasty nailing through blood vessels, no blood running down upon him in droves… in fact, some of the blood and sweat on the cross may well have dried up before or during his carrying of it. He may have stayed relatively clean, but his importance to our consideration is still worth evaluating. Is our closeness to Christ rooted in compulsion, and not in a genuine love and desire for a relationship with him? Are we Christians simply because our parents and grandparents, our husband or our wife, or some other important person in our life is Christian? Have we never made the burden of discipleship our own? Regardless of what happened to Simon after he bore the cross, he was, at the moment he carried it, bearing the burden under compulsion, and not in freedom. Is this our closeness to the cross?
Our attention now turns to the mockers on the hillside. They are placed conveniently to remain clean. No blood will be found on them! None of the nastiness of the cross shall touch them. This is entertainment – a public spectacle. Some are Jews, some are Gentiles. All are the intended object of the work being accomplished upon that cross, and yet the will not draw near. They do not lift a voice of encouragement, only of taunting. Their words serve to slam the nails, the thorns, and the lance more deeply into Christ. Have we – and let us be honest with ourselves! – have we ever taken the place of the mockers? Have we ever maintained a convenient distance from the cross in order to be free from its scandal and its shame? Is this today our closeness to the cross?
Let us look together to the religious leaders… they too stand afar off, jeering and taunting. But their pedigree, their succession through ordination and instruction, makes them to be people who should know better. There is a lot they are divided on… indications were that things as diverse as calendar calculations and the proper journey length on a Sabbath were contested among various Jewish sects… but the one thing that united their leaders on Calvary’s plateau was their rejection of the patriarchs, the prophets, and of God himself. They knew so utterly well what was truth that, when they met truth face-to-face, they did not recognize Him. Is this our closeness to the cross? Has our familiarity with the customs and traditions of our faith caused us to become contemporary scribes, pharisees, and challengers of the Lord? Have we failed to see Christ in others, have we failed to touch others in his name, and – most importantly – have we failed to acknowledge our absolute, complete, utter, and total dependence upon his grace for our redemption – choosing instead religiosity over humble faith?
Mary Magdalene and the other women now enter the scene… they were at something of a remove from the spectacle. Their hearts were surely breaking, seeing their rabbi, their teacher, their Lord as he hung upon the gibbet of the cross. What were they saying? What were they thinking? Scripture is silent. We can only assume, from what we are told, that they stood there, beholding in wonder, sorrow, fear, and hope – yes, all those conflicting emotions! – the greatest spectacle in human history, and turning their hearts towards prayer? Is this our closeness to the cross? Are we, who behold the Crucified, turned towards prayer? Towards repentance? Towards renewal? Do we find born in us, at a safe and yet uncomfortable remove from the experience of the cross, a security of faith?
Finally, let us consider Mary, the Blessed Mother. Where is she in all this? In John’s Gospel we are told that she was close enough to the cross to be addressed by her dying son. His voice must have been raspy… the trauma of the passion was most exquisite. Having witnessed my share of trauma patients in my career who had been through being beaten to ‘within an inch of their lives’, I can say that, while some are quite vocal, many are so exhausted and defeated, that only whispers escape their lips. Mary, is firmly at the foot of the Cross as the blood, the sweat, and the tears fall upon her. Her clothing must have been covered with the blood, the most precious blood, of her beloved Son. And yet, in this moment of deep agony, foretold in the Temple by Simeon - the moment when her heart is pierced - she remains steadfast, unmoving, and faithfully stands under the cross, under the Body, and under the Blood. The fruit of her fiat hangs before her, pours upon her, and marks her, not simply as the Theotokos – the God bearer – but as an adopted daughter of the Most High. Her full and complete confidence, even in the midst of sorrow and pain, reigns above her on the tree, full of life and salvation for her… and for you.
Beloved… I ask you today to consider, as we adore the crucified, where do you stand?
