The Power of the Cross

September is the time in the Church Year when we are reminded of the power of the Cross and the clear decisions we need to make to live our baptismal commitments. The structure of the cross is worth some pondering.

First there is a vertical beam. This connects heaven and earth. But it also separates: land from sea, light from darkness, possession from divestiture, power-over from compassion, going away from coming home, order from chaos.

Then there is the horizontal beam. It reaches out to gather in, like some continuous hug. And finally there is the Body. Someone is hung between the two beams, helpless, wounded, bleeding, with a heart open “like a window without shutters,” says Catherine of Siena, so that we can climb in and find refuge anytime. The One hanging on the Cross holds the two beams together.

No one seeks after pain, but suffering is different from pain. Suffering can be profound when there is no physical pain. Suffering can be love’s bonding no matter what the situation. It is key to taking on the maturing that molds us into a likeness with the Crucified…a breathtaking human beauty, like fire hidden beneath ashes. It is love’s artistry breaking open our self-centeredness, the unfolding of the clenched fist, the relaxing of the clenched jaw.

Watch for the suffering called for in these September readings as we pass the half-way mark of Ordinary Time, as we celebrate the feast of the Holy Cross, as we learn that our suffering is not a punishment, but love maturing us toward all we can be. This is the Power of the Cross.

A Future of Hope…Why?

It’s a good question. What reasons do we have to hope? Why should we be a community of hope? Francis asks this question, and so should we. The answer might surprise us.


If we look at our little selves, frail, the future full of mist and even darkness, we search in vain. So we are not the answer. The answer rests in an assurance that comes from our faith. Faith is the substance of what we hope for. The answer comes from beyond ourselves. We have an assurance that we are held in love, and this enables us to “whistle in the dark.”


The reason for our hope is this hidden God. There is this kind of ache in our hearts. We long for something and we don’t know why. Yet the heartache is there. We long for something that we can’t even name. Maybe it’s that we as a community become something new, something we have been growing toward all the while. Just as a child dreams of “growing up” yet has no clear idea what she shall be, so we too long to be what God wants for us. But if asked what that is, we must admit we’re not sure.


So we have good reason to hope. We have a Shepherd that holds us close to his heart. So now we need to take hands and walk together. We need to listen…we need to speak…then we need to walk. Only one thing is important…that we do it together, and we do it without fear. Fear is crippling, and will keep us pinched, small and narrow. The wild joy of a Dominic came from his assuring faith that when the future opens, it will be recognized by the quiet smile of hope and big-souled joy. We pray for magnanimous hearts ...