The surprise of the Cross

There’s a new ‘gourmet’ supermarket in my local shopping strip.  On my first visit, as I was gazing, queuing to pay and pondering their business model (it’s a competitive market in these economic times, I was thinking!), I was stopped short.  Placed above the required signage for licensed premises is a bronze crucifix.  It was a cold winter’s night and I had stopped into this supermarket because it meant I didn’t have to cross the road in the rain.  And after the rough and tumble of a working day, there was something strangely moving about the prominence of this sacred image in this unlikely context. 

As with many Catholics I have spent more hours than I can quantify gazing at a crucifix, holding one in my hand for prayer and, in my case, I have also become custodian of crucifixes that have been placed upon the coffins of parents and grandparents.  Overtime I have also been gifted crosses and I have quite a selection now! 

When I travel, I can never visit enough churches.  Roaming in Italy on one occasion I recall my travel companions wearying of my ‘let’s just pop in and light a candle’ every time we passed a Church.  But how could we not?  There is a Church at every turn – each with its own look and feel.  And into each, I carried the stories of my life as my eyes turned to the crucifix.  When family or friends have been suffering deeply, I think about them on the cross with Jesus and take comfort in the knowledge that the strength of Jesus is upholding them and is with them in their suffering.  In times of joy, I gaze at the same powerful icon with the sure knowledge that life arises from this transformative symbol of vulnerability.  On these occasions the crucifix proclaims to me that all is never lost.  All, in the end, is well.  And there are some weeks when I gaze at the crucifix and I just think about how, throughout the ages, the weight of the world has rested and continues to rest upon the shoulders of Jesus.  The teacher, preacher and healer who continues to carry the joys and hopes of the world.  The loving heart of Jesus unable to be crushed by the weight of the world. 

This is not to say, however, that I don’t appreciate the horror of the image.  I still find listening to the Passion Narratives during the Easter Triduum extraordinarily confronting.  In the nascent days of Christianity, the crucifix was seen as a symbol of death.  It was a reminder of the horror of the cruelty, of the practice of crucifixion.  It has taken years of prayerful reflection in light of the resurrection of Jesus to imbue it with another meaning.  Overtime the eyes of faith have come to see it as a symbol of not just death but the beginning of new life. 

When I think back, I can see that for my grandparents the predominant symbol they saw when they looked at the crucifix was of a suffering God.  ‘God never gives you more than you can carry’ my Nana was fond of saying.  Born in 1900 and formed by the effects of the suffering of two world wars, she had little patience for those who complained or who were experiencing lifes disappointment.  ‘Hand it over to God’ she would say, and that was the end of that!

Responding to a letter that described a kindness being taken advantage of Dorothy Day wrote:

I can only say that the saints would only bow their heads and not try to understand or judge. … We are sowing the seed of love, and we are not living in the harvest time.  We must love to the point of folly, and we are indeed fools, as Our Lord Himself was who died for such a one as this.  We lay down our lives, too, when we have performed (a) painfully thankless an act, for our correspondent is poor in this world’s goods.  It is agony to go through such bitter experiences, because we all want to love, we desire with a great longing to love our fellow, and our hearts are often crushed at such rejections.  But, as a Carmelite nun said to me last week, “it is the crushed heart which is the soft heart, the tender heart.” (adapted from Selected Writings of Dorothy Day)

And for someone who was a little world-weary on a cold, wet, winter night, the symbol of the crucifix in the supermarket spoke loudly to me.  You are not alone, life is good, all will be well.  Do come and rest awhile.  Be confident that you can live in hope because the cross is not the end – it is the beginning!  Do not let your heart be hardened because as sure as the daffodils will bloom in Spring, there will be new life.

By Cathy Jenkins

Published: 19 July 2024