At center of paschal mystery stands Cross of Christ

Many of us bear crosses which are hidden from the world.  They come in many shapes and sizes — but, like the Cross of Christ, they weigh us down; they bring us pain; they crush our spirit; they may even lead us to ask — as did Jesus:  “my God, my God, why have you abandoned me?”

For some, the cross is the fear of death; for others, it is the weakening of our physical strength and our memory that comes with the passage of years. For still others, the cross is a chronic condition, like arthritis, for others, a life-threatening illness like COVID, cancer, diabetes, lupus or HIV.  Sometimes the cross manifests itself in the form of mental torture — horrible fears, paranoia, bi-polar mood swings, anxiety disorders, obsessions and compulsions.  For one, the cross may be the pain which accrues from the death of a loved one — for others the death of what was once a happy marriage. For another, it may be the sorrow which stems from being estranged from one’s children, grandchildren or a once-close friend. For still others, the cross comes as the struggle to remain in recovery from an addiction. For a teen or young adult, it may be the inner struggle over his/her sexual preference and with this, the dreaded fear of being rejected or shunned by family and friends should the truth be made known.  For many people, the cross is sadness which is caused by physical isolation and loneliness.   

Having scanned a random sample of the crosses which we have all concealed in our private lives, let it be said: Jesus does not want us to suffer alone.  Jesus does not want us to suffer in vain.  Jesus does not want our suffering to be absurd. Jesus does not want us to fall victims to the crosses of life.

This year, when we venerate the Cross on which hung the Savior, let us take our personal cross out of the closet of our heart — the cross which we hide from many people — and let’s dedicate it to Jesus as we kiss his feet. Let’s entrust our personal cross to Jesus, who loves us so much that he died for us.   

By surrendering our crosses, with a small “c” to the Cross with a capital “C,” Jesus may not remove its yoke from our shoulders right away, but he will make his presence known to us in our suffering. Moreover, he will transform our personal cross so that our suffering will take on meaning and purpose.  United to Jesus’ Cross, the merits of our individual crosses will be applied to the on-going Redemption of the world — both to the suffering members of his Body here on earth — and to our brothers and sisters in purgatory who cannot help themselves.

One day, with Jesus’ grace, we will triumph over our personal cross. And just as God our Father vindicated Jesus’ Cross by raising him to new life and proclaiming him Lord of heaven and earth — so Jesus will vindicate our misery and exult us to heights we can’t even begin to imagine.

On Good Friday, we ponder Jesus’ death  precisely because, on the altar of the Cross, he successfully atones for our sins. He restores us to Communion with God our Father from whom we were estranged.  He stamps out evil; he puts the devil at bay. And he transforms death from the end of life into a passageway to eternal life! As we offer up our personal crosses on Good Friday, let the Crucifix always remind us that Jesus is our hope, and we shall never hope in vain!

Father Comandini is managing editor of “The Catholic Spirit”