The liturgy today presents to us both sides of the paradox of the Cross of Christ.
In the first place, there is the subjective, human, emotional side. We are invited to consider, if we are able, how very great were the sufferings Jesus endured for our sake. The physical pain inflicted on him reached unimaginable extremes: from the beatings he received, and the terrible scourging; from the crown of thorns; from the nails; from the tormenting thirst; and from the hanging, each passing second of which must have seemed unendurable, but which lasted for three long hours. Then: how much must so gentle, so sensitive, so loving a man have suffered from the betrayal, the public humiliation, the shouts of abuse, the mockery, the spitting, the stripping; and from seeing his friends and disciples so cravenly deserting him. Then there was the mental anguish spoken of by many theologians and mystics, through which Jesus somehow experienced the weight of all the sins of the world, heaped upon him, while apparently his heavenly Father kept silence, and seemed even to have abandoned him. All this pain, we are invited to reflect, was caused by our sins, and was willingly endured out of love for us. Such reflections have the power to break our hearts, to fill us with horror for sin, and to turn us from sinners into Saints.
But then there’s the other side: the theological meaning of these events; their consequences for us: what both St. John and St. Paul describe as their Glory. This is the side on which the emphasis of both the liturgy and the New Testament Scriptures fall. The emotional aspect is brought out much more in the Old Testament than in the New: texts from Isaiah and Jeremiah and Micah in particular, and also of course many verses from the Psalms. But St. John’s Passion narrative, for example, while certainly dramatic, and moving, yet seems somehow detached and dispassionate, as apparently without emotion it recounts the bare events. “There they crucified him, and with him two others, one on either side, with Jesus in the middle.”
The Cross is so horrible, we would naturally express our total rejection of it: kick it aside, trample on it, smash it, curse it. But the liturgy has us come up one by one and reverence it, adore it; even, in all circumstances but these, lovingly kiss it. And we sing to it: ancient songs of worship, of triumph, even of joy.
What was Jesus doing there on that Cross? He was opening his arms and his heart to us in forgiveness, in mercy, in compassion, in love. Made perfect in his obedience, as the Letter to the Hebrews has it, he was offering himself as the source of our eternal salvation (cf. Hb 5:9). And he was interceding for us. In union with this great intercession of Jesus, today the Church very appropriately gathers together her own intercessions in a particularly solemn way. Jesus on the Cross intercedes that we might be reconciled with his Father; that we might inherit his Kingdom; that we might be freed from the power of death and the devil; that we might share his own divine life forever. Flowing out from that intercession, and in harmony with it, come the countless smaller or lesser intercessions of the Church. We pray today, for example, for an end to this pandemic, and that people afflicted by it might be spared. But we ask this, and all other desirable things, always on condition of accepting God’s holy will. For we know that God’s will sometimes works out its loving purposes not through prosperity but through adversity; not through prolonged and prosperous life, but precisely through suffering and death. This is not prayer unanswered. This is prayer lovingly heard, and answered in better and bigger ways than we could ever plan, or even desire.
There’s just one detail in today’s Passion narrative I’d like to dwell on for a moment now. It’s the inscription over the Cross. All the evangelists mention it, but John in more detail than any of the others. Incidentally, if you go to the Church of Sancta Cruce in Gerusalemme in Rome, you can see and venerate this inscription. Defenders of the authenticity of this extraordinary Relic point to various details of the writing which would certainly be correct for that time, in a way a mediaeval forger would be most unlikely to know. They suggest that perhaps this board could have been placed in the tomb of Jesus, and shared something of the itinerary of the Holy Shroud, now venerated in Turin. We know from the pilgrim nun Egeria that such a relic was venerated in Jerusalem by large crowds of the faithful, together with a fragment of the True Cross, on Good Friday in the year 384. Egeria notes how two Deacons had to hold the Inscription down very carefully, to protect it from possible damage by so many fervent worshippers.
St. John anyway tells us that above the head of Jesus was written, and proclaimed to all the world, his holy Name, and his Messianic Title. When the Jews objected, Pilate famously replied: Quod scripsi, scripsi (19:22). This weak, cowardly man had been utterly defeated in the main point, but he obstinately insisted on maintaining his ground in this apparently trivial detail. Such are the circumstances used by divine Providence to set up on high, once for all, in a way that can never be changed, the holy Name of Jesus. St. Bernardine of Siena wonderfully preached a special devotion to this Name, which by its own power puts demons to flight, heals the wounds of sin, and draws all who repeat it to God.
This Name appeared in the very familiar Gradual Chant we sang today. Because Jesus obediently accepted his death on the Cross, sang Paul, God has highly exalted him, and given him the Name which is above every Name. Once again we find Paul in perfect conformity with John. For at the Name of Jesus, Paul went on, writing to the Philippians, all beings, in the heavens and on earth and in the underworld shall bend the knee, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father (Phil 2:10-11)
St. Peter would later declare that of all the names in the world, this is the only one by which we can be saved (Acts 4:12). And St. John will conclude his Gospel: These things are written so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that believing you may have life in his Name (20:31).