The Paradox of the Cross
(Num.21:4-9; Phil.2:6-11; Jn.3:13-17)
Life is full of paradoxes, of things that seem self-contradictory or absurd but still remain true. Like in social media, where the more connected you are, the less connected you become.
Or the truism that if you want to succeed, then expect to fail.
Today we celebrate the greatest paradox of all – the Cross of Christ. It’s the most brutal instrument of torture and death, and yet it’s also the tree of life.
It’s a symbol of utter human weakness and failure, but also the ultimate proof of God’s power and love.
On this feast day, we are all invited to reflect on the mystery of the Cross. Not with sorrow, but with a strong sense of awe and joy because God has used that Cross to transform death into life. He has given hope to our troubled world.
Why do we celebrate the Cross today? It’s because on September 14 every year the Church commemorates its discovery by St. Helena, the mother of the Roman Emperor Constantine. She became a Christian later in life and in 326 AD journeyed to Jerusalem, searching for the holy places in Jesus’ life.
Helena had heard that the pagan Temple of Aphrodite had been built on Calvary, so she had it demolished and underneath she found three crosses. Constantine then had the Basilica of the Holy Sepulchre erected on that spot.
For St Helena, the Cross wasn’t a souvenir or a relic; it was the source of all salvation and a bridge to eternal life. By making it visible to everyone, she transformed what was once a sign of shame into a symbol of victory, and people have been venerating the Cross ever since.
Someone else who was fascinated by the Cross was St Thérèse of Lisieux, who lived a mostly hidden life in a Carmelite convent in France. She suffered considerably in her short life and eventually died a painful death from tuberculosis.
Thérèse often reflected on Jesus’ Cross and what it meant, and came to realise that the Cross isn’t just to be found on Calvary, for it’s embedded in every suffering we endure, including our illness, sadness, discomforts and frustrations.
She learnt that every sacrifice, every cross, can be transformed when it’s accepted with love, for even the smallest suffering can bring us closer to Jesus.
She came to welcome every trial as a gift from God, and called this her Little Way.
In her autobiography, The Story of a Soul, Thérèse explains how every day she tried to embrace little crosses, like enduring an insult, accepting the annoying faults of others, and saying nothing when she was misunderstood. She saw all these little sacrifices as acts of love for Jesus.
She once wrote: ‘I choose all! I don’t want to be a saint by halves. I’m not afraid to suffer for you, Jesus!’
She also said, ‘To pick up a pin for love can convert a soul.’
St Thérèse teaches us that experiencing the Cross doesn’t have to be something dramatic or momentous, for the Cross is also there when we do ordinary things with great love.
In this way, she has made Jesus’ Cross accessible to us all in our daily lives.
On 19 October 1997, Pope St John Paul II declared St Thérèse of Lisieux a Doctor of the Church. This formally recognises her for making a major contribution to our understanding of the Christian faith.
John Paul II understood what St Therese was trying to say. He himself had suffered mightily, losing his family early in life and enduring the cruelty of both Nazi and Communist regimes. He was also shot and nearly died in 1981, and in his later years he suffered from Parkinson’s disease, but didn’t try to hide it.
He embraced his sufferings publicly, proclaiming that they are not meaningless when they are offered with love and united to Christ. ‘Don’t be afraid,’ he said, for Jesus has already conquered death.
The Cross of Christ is a true paradox. It’s an awful instrument of torture and death, but Jesus and the saints teach us not to fear it because it’s also the source of new life.
St. Helena encourages us to search for the Cross, for it’s hidden inside the rubble of our messy lives.
St. Thérèse teaches us to hold the Cross up high as we quietly accept life’s challenges in a spirit of love.
And St. John Paul II shows us that you don’t have to be strong to be holy; you just need to be faithful in your weakness.