Each Sunday, an altar server processes into church carrying a hefty bronze crucifix. Sometimes the cross-bearer struggles slightly beneath the weight — and this can be a poignant reminder of this object’s deeper meaning.
What was once merely a horrific instrument of suffering and death reserved for the worst criminals — similar to the electric chair still used in some states today — became over time a sign of triumph.
Some version of the crucifix hangs in every Christian church around the world. And countless Christians wear a cross on a chain around their necks.
At Mass recently, the Rev. Richard Vu, our parochial vicar, reminded the congregation about Jesus falling down three times while he carried the cross to Golgotha. On one level, he fell because he was weakened from the brutal beatings, thirst and loss of blood.
But, on another level, his falls sent a message to each of us.
Many people stumble under the weight of great suffering. We see them on the evening news, the stricken victims of storms and earthquakes and terrorist attacks. They are dazed and weeping from the enormous burden they carry.
But the cross-bearers are right in our midst as well.
You see that lady a few pews over? She lost her husband of many decades, and when she awakens in the morning, I imagine that, just for a second, she thinks he’s still beside her. And then it all comes rushing back, and she gets up, slightly bent from the grief of this cross.
And see that couple nearby with their heads bowed in prayer? They lost their grown son to cancer.
Then there’s the young woman who can’t conceive a child. The father who got abruptly laid off. The old man whose sight is failing.
Even children carry crosses, sometimes very quietly. Teachers can tell you about the kids who come to school hungry. The ones who are dressed in tattered clothing. And don’t forget those who are made fun of because they’re fat or skinny or terrible at sports.
The crowds jeered at Jesus as he made his way to his death. They spat upon him and reviled him. That was part of the agony, too.
When he fell down and then got up again, it was a reminder to all those who are suffering. Each of us will stumble at some point, and we may be tempted to give up. But we can, with God’s grace, stand up, dust ourselves off, and keep on going.
But there’s something else in that message, too. We need to take care of people who are overwhelmed by whatever their afflictions may be. They may be elderly, they may be middle-aged — or they may be children.
Everyone carries some kind of cross in life. These folks are at our workplaces, in our churches — and in our homes.
Those who wear a crucifix on a chain convey a monumental message to the world. An instrument of agony has become a sign of hope. A dark and terrible death has opened a bright portal to everlasting life. Those who stumble will be lifted up. And, just like Jesus, they will not bear the cross alone.
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