Behind the altar in my parish church stands a large crucifix. I cannot tell you just how tall it stands, but simply know that it towers above us, a symbol of Christ’s love that cannot be ignored. Only once a year is the corpus from this crucifix removed and the cross taken out of the floor. This is the cross we venerate on Good Friday. The sanctuary was designed in a manner that leaves the space around the base of the cross open so that people may pray at the foot of the cross if their hearts lead them there. This cross, Christ’s cross, must be embraced in order to fully experience its transformative power in our lives.

Forming the community

“What part of ‘take up your cross’ do you not understand?” That was the question I found myself asking a women’s retreat team not long ago. The guide for discussion that we were using included a question that asked, “How are you called to take up your cross at this time, and how are you given strength to do so?” The women were stymied. Only one of 15 seemed to have any real understanding of the question, let alone the ability to reflect and formulate a response. The guide for discussion they were using was one I had written, and since it was to be used by groups throughout our parish for many months, I needed to know, “What part of ‘take up your cross’ do you not understand?” Group after group seemed to experience the same sort of confusion, blank incomprehension, or, perhaps, denial. Taking up our cross is not something that arises in everyday conversation, I suppose. The circumstances surrounding most of our lives assure us that we need never experience anything close to a cross, so it is easy for us to attempt to flee the cross rather than to find the strength to embrace it.

Formed through life within the community

I don’t know if my pastor remembered hearing of these discussions or if he has had similar ones himself, but a few months later, in a strikingly profound homily, Father Jan spoke of Christ’s victory over death, his triumph of the cross. He talked about how each of us probably envisions the difficulties we might experience in life. We mentally prepare ourselves for challenge; we think we are ready to face whatever life might have in store. And then, often, we face something we would never have imagined, a challenge we feel is beyond our capacity to meet. Christ, Father Jan explained, probably imagined he would meet with disbelief and mocking; yet on the night before his passion, Jesus faced a cross that seemed almost too great to bear and still found the strength to pray, “Not my will but yours be done” (Lk 22:42). Each of us faces the cross, and by definition, the cross will be great, but God’s love, Christ’s victory over the cross, is greater.

The morning Father Jan offered that homily sticks in my memory as being one of the most powerful experiences of prayer I have encountered. It was 7:30 on Sunday morning, and the depth of prayer was palpable. Yet I wondered, “So is it only the 7:30 a.m. folks — those who are truly committed to their faith, enough to rise early to begin the day with the Eucharist — who will respond to Christ’s message as voiced by our pastor?” The next week told the tale. I heard from folks who were at 5 p.m. Mass the evening before and from ones who were at the 6 p.m. on Sunday night. All spoke of the ways in which they had been moved to really reflect on the part that faith plays in their lives.

Forming pastoral practice

Suddenly it seemed that being a Christian meant more than loving, serving, becoming more selfless. Suddenly, people were talking about their crosses, the ones they have already carried and the ones yet to be embraced or even imagined. Suddenly, it became apparent that people need and want to be given the ability to articulate what the cross means for them. What part of “take up your cross” do we not understand? That is still a question to be answered, over and over again. Perhaps we need to ask the question more often and invite conversation around the question. Perhaps that is part of real pastoral practice. ML
 

Leisa Anslinger is pastoral associate for faith formation at Immaculate Heart of Mary Parish in Cincinnati. Author of  Here Comes Everybody! Whole Community Catechesis in the Parish, she is a national speaker on topics including whole-community catechesis and pastoral leadership.

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