Cardinal Jean-Marie Lustiger (1926-2007), who was cardinal of Paris from 1981-2005, told the following story. Three teenage boys, around thirteen were hanging around with nothing to do. As you know, teenage boys with nothing to do is asking for trouble. They were near a Catholic church. So they decided to have some fun. They went into the church and each went to confession, telling the most outrageous sins they could think of. However, the priest realized what was going on. So to one of the boys, who was Jewish, he said, ‘For your penance, go before the altar, look up at the crucifix and say three times, ‘Jesus you died for my sins and I don’t give a damn.’’ So the boy went before the altar, looked up at the crucifix and said, ‘Jesus I know you died for my sins and I don’t give a damn.’ Then he said a second time, ‘Jesus, I know you died for my sins… and I… don’t… give a damn.’ Then the third time he started, ‘Jesus…’ and he couldn’t finish. The power of the cross and the realization of what he was saying had spoken to him and something was awoken within him. He later was baptized and confirmed and eventually became a priest. And Cardinal Lustiger finished by saying, ‘That boy, was me.’
Some missionaries went deep into the Amazon to bring the Gospel to some of the native tribes. They set up a small camp and made one of the tents into a chapel. The native tribesmen were observing them cautiously from a distance. Gradually they got closer until one day one of them had the courage to go into the camp when it was quiet. He went into the tent they had set up as a chapel. When he saw what was on the wall he ran out screaming. There was a crucifix on the wall.
Earlier this week we celebrated the feast of the Triumph of the Cross. To even say that a cross could be a triumph seems like a contradiction. A crucifixion is a total human failure in every way and a terrible miscarriage of justice, especially for Jesus. And yet we know that the event of the cross was not a failure, but a victory. A failure in human eyes, but a victory in God’s doing. It is something that is hard to understand. In many ways we have become so used to the image of the crucifixion that we don’t see the horror of it any more. We see it in so many places and wear a crucifix as jewelry.
If you came into the church one day and saw the image of a man hanging on a gallows, you would be horrified and it would be reported in the media and people would write to the bishop. The image of a man crucified is just as horrific, if not more so, but we are used to it.
When we are faced with terrible suffering, the death of someone young, or terrible injustice, the first thing we hear people say is, ‘Why would God allow this to happen?’ I’m sure it has been said tens of thousands of times by people who are in pain. I’m sure many people in prison camps and concentration camps and war zones have asked, ‘Where is God now? Why does God allow this?’
Then if you think of the event of the crucifixion, the three women who were there and St. John, watching the holiest, most innocent man, being tortured to death, they also could have asked, ‘Where is God now? How could God allow this to happen.’
When we are faced with the most painful suffering, trying to cope with the loss of a child, or a broken marriage, or sickness, a good thing to do is to take a crucifix in your hand and think about the crucifixion. Instead of saying, ‘God, how could you allow this?’ just think of the crucifixion and the fact that God was in the very heart of that suffering. We may cry out, ‘Where are you now?’ and God replies ‘I am here in this suffering with you.’
The crucifixion meant nothing but failure to those who witnessed it at the time, and yet it was the event that changed the course of history forever. The greatest apparent evil and human failure, won paradise for all who ask for it. That gives us the hope that even with the worst suffering that we face, God is still with us and also that God can and will bring good out of it, but we may never understand it until we get to heaven. So the next time you find yourself crying out to God in anger, take hold of a crucifix and kiss it and say, ‘Lord I do not understand this, but I unite my suffering to yours. Help me to know that you are here in the middle of my pain.’
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