April 6, 2012: Good Friday

 A couple of years ago, during the Good Friday service, something happened that changed the way I see the cross. During the part of the service where we venerate the cross, we were waiting for last remaining persons to come up to the cross to venerate. The cross had a relic of the True Cross (a piece of the Cross on which Jesus died) in the center. The last two persons in the line were a son and his father. The son was in his mid-40’s and had Down syndrome. He did something no one else did. With a big smile, he first laid his right cheek on the relic. Then he placed his left cheek on the relic. Then he planted a big kiss on the relic. Those in the center aisle who were witnessing this began to cry. This man with Down syndrome, whom the world thought of one of the least significant, actually saw the significance of the cross that no one else did.  

 I am reduced to silence before the crucifix, this incredible enduring symbol of our Faith. To enter a church as many times as we do and to see the crucifix within the main focal point of the action of the mass, may desensitize some of us because it could become as familiar to us as the pews and chairs or other fixtures of the church. How unfortunate if we allow that to happen, because the mere sight of a crucifix or even a cross demands a personal response from each us.

The Father’s desire to bring us back to Him was so great that you, Jesus, left your place in the glory of heaven and became man. Yes, you were obedient to your Father, emptied yourself of your divinity, and took on humanity. Your mother, our Blessed Mother, and St. Joseph knew from the beginning that the child given to them by the Father was destined for the fall and rise of many in Israel yet they loved and cared for you while not fully understanding what was to happen.

I look upon this crucifix and ponder all that you endured -- the trials and sufferings of mankind, and then the most inhumane treatment as you were denied, tried, beaten and crucified. You emptied yourself of your humanity for me; you poured out your life for me by dying on the cross. My mind’s eye cannot begin to picture the physical beatings you endured.  Nor can my mind understand or my heart know the depth of your love for me that you would endure the horrendous scourging and torture to ensure our unity with the Father for all eternity.

You endured suffering and death to show me how much I matter to you, how much you love me, and how much you want me to turn from sin and love you. I am not worthy of your great sacrifice, but still you did it all for me. Yes! the cross demands a personal response from me. Yet your death becomes personal only when I recognize my desperate need for salvation, my own sinfulness, my powerlessness to be free from sin. Your death becomes personal when I can place my hands around the crosses of everyday life and offer my pain and suffering for someone else’s salvation. Your death becomes personal when I can extend my hand to assist someone in need, not to receive accolades, but because I have learned to love.

If you could become man, put your life entirely in your Father's hands, and trust him even to the point of dying on the cross, can I not trust you and put my life in your hands? If you love me this much, can I not love you even a little in return?

The cross which we will venerate today will also have the relic of the True Cross in the center and the relic of the Holy Nail (these nails contain the filings from the original nail used to crucify Jesus) on each arm.