Today’s liturgy invites us to reflect on the mystery of the cross of Christ and our own cross, which, as believers, we are called to understand and bear. Paul says to the Christians of Corinth, that the cross is a scandal for the Jews and stupidity for the Greeks, but, he added, it is the power and wisdom of God for us Christians. But looking at the cross, at the Crucifix, even today’s Christians can suffer scandal or feel shame. On the cross, Christ is humiliated and powerless. We can say, humanly speaking, that on the cross Christ is defeated. Celsus, a 2nd-century philosopher, mocked Christians because they called a Crucifix “Lord”, and because they belonged to a societas – the church – whose sociological composition was extremely poor and insignificant. But the spirit of Celsus is still present among us, although he uses another tactic: today he praises Christ the master of philanthropy, thus obscuring the cross. And Hilary of Poitiers, a father of the 4th century, stated – in a very current text – that the new persecution of Christians (at least here in Europe) no longer scourges the back, but caresses the belly, it does not hit our body but takes our heart, it does not cut off our head with the sword but kills our soul with money. In this way the cross is not directly and visibly mocked but is slowly emptied of all its meaning—which is worse. In that case, what is the cross of Jesus?

There is one aspect that we must never forget: it is not the cross that makes Jesus great; it is Jesus who redeems the cross, which is to be understood (as they say) and certainly not to be rhetorically exalted. Be careful: Jesus did not make the cross the purpose of his existence. At the heart of his actions, he placed absolute and unconditional love for God and man. And he remained faithful to this option until death. Therefore, what saves us is not his suffering on the cross, but his love. Let me explain better: on the cross Jesus did not offer his suffering to the Father for us, but instead he offered what he became through that suffering. And what did he become? A man who went to those heights of love that are capable of saving, a man who gave meaning to the senselessness of suffering, pain, death, to what we call the cross. Saint Bernard also understood this when he looked at the Crucifix and said: the Father did not like the death of the Son (ours is not a sadistic God), but he loved the will to die freely for the salvation of the world. Here, then, is the cross: a love so great that it becomes obedience to the Father (the vertical pole), and solidarity with men (the horizontal pole).

Jesus repeatedly invites us: “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself, take up his cross and follow me.” Let us note: “If anyone…” – Jesus begins. What does it mean? Simple: following Christ is not an obligation, but a proposal that challenges our freedom. Then there is an important verb, which must be understood: “to deny.” In Greek it is aparneomai which means “to deny with force.” What must be to denied with force? Ourselves. This does not mean that we must destroy ourselves; it means that we must not make our “I” an absolute master that drags us into slavery. So: denying ourselves means not making ourselves the ultimate value, the point around which everything must revolve, but rather making Christ the centre of our existence, and therefore the reference, the orientation. So, carrying the cross is equivalent to following the logic of Jesus who lived an obedience of love toward the Father and an active solidarity towards his neighbour. And if it is true that the cross reveals the face of God to us, the same cross reveals the face of the believer as a child of God.

Commentary by b. Sandro Carotta, osb
Abbazia di Praglia (Italy)

Translation by f. Mark Hargreaves,
Prinknash Abbey

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