The Patriarchal Basilica of Saint Paul Outside the Walls is the largest church in Rome after Saint Peter’s Basilica and is sometimes referred to as the “Ostian Basilica” because of its location along the Ostian Way. The Apostle Paul was brought to Rome as a prisoner and martyred between the years 64 and 67 during the persecution of Nero. Aquae Salviae, today’s Tre Fontana, about two miles from the basilica, is the traditional site of Paul’s martyrdom. Since he was a Roman citizen, his execution was probably by beheading rather than public torture. The body was claimed by the Roman matron Lucina, who buried it in her family tomb near a vineyard on the road to Ostia. An oratory was soon erected over it.
This basilica was the traditional site of the First Scrutiny of the Catechumenate. This is the reason why a major basilica was erected by Gregory the Great as a station church in mid-week. The tomb of the Apostles, called so specially by Christ, reminds one of the Lenten theme of conversion.
Today, let us take some time to pray for the more than 1,100 men, women and children(catechumens and elect) coming into the church in the Archdiocese of Washington at Easter.
Adapted from the Pontifical North American College Guide to the Station Churches
Today, to begin the fourth week of our Lenten Station Church Pilgrimage, we journeyed to the church of Santi Quattro Coronati (Four Holy Crowns). A few blocks from the Coliseum, this church building dates back to the days of Emperor Constantine and was first used as a church around the year 630. It commemorates two groups of martyrs. The first group, for whom the church was named, was four Christian soldiers who refused to sacrifice to pagan gods and so were killed during the Diocletian Persecution. The second group was five stone masons who were killed for refusing to make a statue of a pagan god. In giving their lives for love, these two groups of heroic martyrs remind us of Christ’s unwavering love for us, even to the point of His death on a cross. As Lent draws closer to Good Friday, we remember that it is not just the martyrs who remind the world of Christ’s faithful love. We too must listen to how the Lord is calling us to show the world that God is a God of mercy and love. In this way we become witnesses to Jesus just as the martyrs were.
On the strength of Jesus’ Word
In today’s Gospel, Jesus challenges us to have faith in Him. A royal official approaches Jesus and begs that He heal his dying son. Rather than performing an obvious miracle, Jesus simply tells the official, “You may go; your son will live.” St. John tells us that “the man believed what Jesus said to him and left.” How many of us would have had that reaction? Would we have believed as easily as the official did? Most of us would have asked Jesus for a sign to prove that the boy would actually be healed. Jesus’ word would not have been enough. Or how many of us, trying to live out the Christian life, really believe that Jesus can heal our sinful nature? Every day we try to follow Christ, and yet we repeatedly fall. Today, Jesus is calling us to remember the gift of faith we have been given in our baptism. We do not need to approach God with doubt, wondering whether He will love us with all our faults. We approach Him as children, confident in His unending love. Following Christ is not a matter of picking ourselves up by the bootstraps. Rather, it is a life of faith in Christ who freely gives us the grace to follow Him. All He asks of us is to live out this gift of faith. Today Jesus is calling us to believe in His goodness and be open to his healing power in our lives.
Today’s Basilica of St. Mark recalls not only the evangelist Mark, but a holy Pope of the same name who constructed a basilica here in the mid-fourth century.
This was replaced by another basilica in the sixth century and a third in the ninth century. What we have now is the third church, whose most notable addition is the beautiful mosaic depicting twelve lambs heading from Jerusalem and Bethlehem towards the Christ. A rather typical image in mosaics, here we see an insightful and somewhat humorous addition as St. Mark the Evangelist rests his hand on the shoulder of Pope Gregory the IV of the ninth century. The image seems to recall the bond between saints in Heaven, represented by St. Mark the Evangelist, and saintly Christians still on earth, represented by Pope Gregory, whose blue halo indicates that he was still living at the time of the mosaic’s construction. Such a bond exists most strongly during the Mass, when the angels and saints in Heaven “gather” to celebrate with us, but even outside Mass the “Church triumphant” is praying for each one of us.
Sometimes God chooses the “little way”
Perhaps this or other articles of the Faith can seem trifling or irrelevant at times, but today’s first reading (2 Kgs 5:1-15b) gives us reason to stop and reconsider. Naaman, commander of the Syrian army, travels to Israel to be healed of his leprosy by Elisha the prophet. Apparently expecting Elisha to amaze him with some incredible and awe-inspiring act, Naaman is disappointed to hear Elisha’s rather banal counsel: “Go and wash seven times in the Jordan, and your flesh will heal, and you will be clean.”
Though Naaman indignantly intends to return home, his servants are wise enough to advise him to follow through on Elisha’s counsel. “My father,” they said, “if the prophet had told you to do something extraordinary, would you not have done it? All the more now, since he said to you, ‘Wash and be clean,’ should you do as he said.”
This story not only recalls the fact that God’s ways often surprise us, but also points especially to the fact that God often uses rather simple, “small” means to accomplish great effects, whenever we act out of faith and hope in Him. One might think of many Gospel instances of this truth, such as a woman simply reaching out to touch Jesus’ tassel to be healed (Luke 8:40-48), or a centurion expressing great respect and trust in his authority (Matt. 8: 4-13). One could also think of the countless ways Christians since the first centuries have placed their trust in God’s power to heal and bestow graces through the veneration of relics, saints, and holy sites, beginning even in the times of the apostles (see Acts 19).
Whether it be devotion to the saints, the belief that Jesus can forgive and strengthen through the Sacraments of Reconciliation and the Eucharist, or the conviction that one can grow closer to Christ through prayer, fasting, and almsgiving, God challenges us to trust that He can work miracles if we trust him. This Lent is the perfect opportunity to return to not only accepting Christ’s words as true, but also act on them in even the “smallest” of ways.
“So Naaman went down and plunged into the Jordan seven times at the word of the man of God. His flesh became again like the flesh of a little child, and he was clean.”
The station church of Saints Marcellinus and Peter is located between St. Mary Major and St. John Lateran at the intersection of two busy streets. These two saints, who are mentioned in Eucharistic Prayer #1 (The Roman Canon), were both beheaded for their faith. This small church no longer holds their remains (they were re-located to Germany in the 9th century for use in the new churches there), but it still preserves the memory of their witness to the Father’s love for all of us.
Today’s homily takes up the theme of Lent as a season of conversion, of metanoia, of purifying our ways of thinking. The stational liturgy today asks us to admit our need for further conversion, and shows us the way back to the Father.
Learning from Our Father’s Generosity
The well-known parable of the Prodigal Son asks us to confront the attitude of the elder son present in all of us. The elder son becomes angry at the generosity shown by the father for the younger son, a son who seemed to have lived the easy life, full of pleasure and enjoyment. This anger is not just because the younger prodigal son is welcomed back; it’s because the father’s love seems disproportionate to the actions of his sons. From the elder son’s point of view, the father seems to be more generous to the younger son; in fact, he seems to love the younger son more despite what the elder son has done for the father. “Look,” he says, “all these years I served you and not once did I disobey your orders; yet you never gave me even a young goat to feast on with my friends!”
Are we angry because others seem to be rewarded for doing nothing? Are we angry because our burdens seem to be more difficult than others’? Are we angry because we have to follow certain rules and others don’t, and they seem happier for it? In a word, are we angry because God still hasn’t given us our due? If we have these thoughts in our hearts, we really don’t know what redemption means. We really don’t know what Jesus accomplished through his passion death and resurrection.
But we can rediscover this Lent what it means to be saved. It’s appropriate that this station church, which is always connected to this Gospel in Lent, should have a shrine over there to Lourdes. It is at Lourdes where so many people who are ill and fearfully sick come to find rest. They bring the burden of feeling abandoned by God to Mary; they bring the heavy load of being the sickest person they know to this shrine and discover with and through Mary how much they are already blessed by God; how much they have already been given by God, freely, gratuitously, out of the generosity of his fatherly heart. They learned the meaning of what the father told his elder son, “Everything I have is yours”.
Mary, pray that we your sons and daughters may come to know this Lent the gratuitousness of divine love, a love that we already possess. And pray that we may in turn give that love to others. Amen.
Today, the Church celebrates the feast of the Annunciation. Through Mary’s “Yes” to God, the Word became flesh within her womb. Today’s readings at Mass reflect Mary’s perfect cooperation with God’s will that helped bring about the redemption of mankind.
The responsorial psalm today is, “Here I am, Lord; I come to do your will.” The second reading (Hebrews 10:4-10) teaches about Jesus Christ living the will of his Father. Jesus always prayed, “Behold, I come to do your will.” Finally, in today’s Gospel, we hear Mary’s words that changed the course of human events and invited God into our world: “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word.” (Lk. 1:38)
The station church today is San Vitale. This church, going back to the fourth century, was a shrine to San Vitale, his wife, and sons – all of whom were martyrs for the faith. The martyrs are some of the Church’s greatest examples of people who followed God’s will very closely, even to the point of death.
In more recent history, the church of St. Vitale was connected to yet another martyr. During the 16th-century persecution of Catholics in England, Bishop John Fisher refused to sign the Oath of Supremacy that denied the pope’s authority and declared Henry VIII the head of the Church in England. Pope Clement VII named Fisher a cardinal and entrusted today’s station church, San Vitale, to Fisher as his titular church. Fisher was martyred for the faith in 1535, soon after being named a cardinal. Like our Lady and Jesus, he said “yes” to the will of God.
This feast of the Annunciation, let us stay close to our Lady, so that with her we can say, “I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word.” By following God’s will, we too can be the instruments who bring Christ into the world.
There are many references to “the flesh” in New Testament Scripture, especially in the letters of St. Paul. The phrase confuses some who think it synonymous with the physical body. It is true that there are many times when Scripture uses the word “flesh” to refer to the physical body. However when the definite article “the” is placed before the word “flesh” we are dealing with something else. Only very rarely does the Biblical phrase “the flesh” (ἡ σὰρξ (he sarx), in Greek) refer only to the physical body (eg. John 6:53; Phil 3:2; 1 John 4:2) , but almost always the phrase refers to something quite distinct from the physical body.
What then is meant by the term “the flesh” (ἡ σὰρξ)? Perhaps most plainly it refers to that part of us that is alienated from God. It is the rebellious, unruly and obstinate part of our inner self that is operative all the time. It is that part of us that does not want to be told what to do. It is stubborn, refuses correction, and does not want to have a thing to do with God. It bristles at limits and rules. It recoils at anything that might cause me to be diminished or something less than the center of the universe. The flesh hates to be under authority or to have to yield to anything other than its own wishes and desires. The flesh often desires something simply because it is forbidden. The Protestants often call the flesh our “sin nature” which is not a bad term in summarizing what the flesh is. In Catholic tradition the flesh is where concupiscence sets up shop. Concupiscence refers to the string inclination to sin that is in us as a result of the wound of Original Sin. If you do not think that your flesh is strong, just try to pray for five minutes and watch how quickly your mind wants to think of anything but God. Just try to fast or be less selfish and watch how your flesh goes to war.
The flesh is in direct conflict with the spirit. “The spirit” here refers not to the Holy Spirit but to the human spirit. The (human) spirit is that part of us which is open to God, which desires him and is drawn to him. It is that part of us which is attracted by goodness, beauty and truth, which yearns for completion in God and to see His face. Without the spirit we would be totally turned in on ourselves and consumed by the flesh. Thankfully our spirit, assisted by the Holy Spirit draws us to desire what is best, what is upright, good and helpful.
Perhaps it is good that we look at just a few texts which reference “the flesh” and thus here in Lent learn more of the flesh and its ways. This will help us to be on our guard and to rebuke it by God’s grace and learn not to feed it. I make some comments in red with each quote.
1. The Flesh does not grasp spiritual teachings – [Jesus said] The Spirit gives life; the flesh counts for nothing. The words I have spoken to you are spirit and they are life. (John 6:63)
Having taught on the Eucharist, most of his listeners ridicule his teaching and will no longer take Jesus seriously. So Jesus indicates that their hostility to the teaching on the Eucharist is of the flesh. The flesh demands that everything be obvious to it on its own terms. The flesh demands to see physical proof for everything; demands that it be able to “see” using its own unregenerate power. And if it cannot see based on its own limited view, it simply rejects spiritual truth out of hand. In effect the flesh refuses to believe at all since what it really demands is something that will “force” it to accept something. Inexorable proof which faith demands takes things out of the realm of faith and trust. Faith is no longer necessary when something is absolutely proven and plainly visible to the eyes of flesh. The flesh simply refuses to believe and demands proof.
2. The flesh is not willing to depend on anyone or anything outside its own power or control – For it is we who are the circumcision, we who worship by the Spirit of God, who glory in Christ Jesus, and who put no confidence in the flesh— though I myself have reasons for such confidence. If anyone else thinks he has reasons to put confidence in the flesh, I have more: circumcised on the eighth day, of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; in regard to the law, a Pharisee; as for zeal, persecuting the church; as for legalistic righteousness, faultless….I [now] consider this rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ (Phil 3:3-9 selected)
The flesh wants to be in control rather than to have to trust in God. Hence it sets up its own observance, under its own control. And when it has met its own demands it declares itself to be righteous. Since the flesh hates being told what to do it takes God’s law and makes it “manageable” based on the flesh’s own terms. So, for example, if I am supposed to love, let me limit it to my family and countrymen but I am “allowed” to hate my enemy. But Jesus says, no, love your enemy. The flesh recoils at this for unless the law is manageable and within the power of the flesh to accomplish it, the Law cannot be controlled. The flesh trusts only in its own power. The Pharisees were “self-righteous” That is to say, they believed in a righteousness that they themselves brought about through their flesh power. But the Law and flesh cannot save. Only Jesus Christ can save. The flesh refuses this and wants to control the outcome based on its own power and terms.
3. The Flesh hates to be told what to do – For when we were controlled by the flesh, the sinful passions aroused by the law were at work in our bodies, so that we bore fruit for death. (Rom 7:5)
The disobedience and rebelliousness of the flesh roots us in sinful behavior and prideful attitudes. The prideful attitude of the flesh is even more dangerous than the sins that flow from the flesh since pride precludes instruction in holiness and possible repentance that lead to life. But the flesh does not like to be told what to do. Hence it rejects the testimony of the the Church, the scriptures and the conscience. Notice, according to the text, the very existence of God’s Law arouses the passions of the flesh. The fact that something is forbidden makes the flesh want it all the more! This strong inclination to sin is in the flesh and comes from pride and indignation at “being told what to do.” The flesh is refuses God’s Law and sets up its own rules. The flesh will not be told what to do.
4. Flesh is as flesh does – Those who live according to the flesh have their minds set on what the flesh desires; but those who live in accordance with the spirit have their minds set on what the spirit desires. The concern of the flesh is death, but the concern of the spirit is life and peace (Rom 8:5-6)
The flesh is intent on things of this world, upon gratifying its own passions and desires. On account of the flesh we are concerned primarily with ourselves and seek to be at the center. The flesh is turned primarily inward. St Augustine describes the human person in the flesh as “curvatus in se” (turned in upon himself). But the spirit is that part of us that looks outward toward God and opens us the truth and holiness that God offers. Ultimately the flesh is focused on death for it is concerned with what is passing away: the body and the world. The human spirit is focused on life for it focuses on God who is life and light.
5. The Flesh is intrinsically hostile to God – The mind of the flesh is hostile to God. It does not submit to God’s law, nor can it do so. Those controlled by the flesh cannot please God. (Rom 8:7-8)
The flesh is hostile to God because it is pridefully hostile to any one more important than itself. Further the flesh does not like being told what to do. Hence it despises authority or anyone who tries to tell it what to do. It cannot please God because it does not want to.
6. The Flesh abuses freedom – You, my brothers, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the flesh; rather, serve one another in love. (Gal 5:13)
The flesh turns God given freedom into licentiousness. Licentiousness is to demand freedom without limit. Since the flesh does not want to be told what to do it demands to be able to do what ever it wants. In effect the flesh says, “I will do what I want to do and I will decide if it is right or wrong.” This is licentiousness and it is an abuse of freedom. It results in indulgence and paradoxically leads to a slavery to the senses and the passions.
7. The Flesh Demands to be fed – So I say, live by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh. For the flesh desires what is contrary to the Spirit, and the Spirit what is contrary to the sinful nature. They are in conflict with each other, so that you do not do what you want. (Gal 5:16-17)
Within the human person is this deep conflict between the flesh and spirit. We must not be mistaken, the flesh is in us and it is strong. It has declared war on our spirit and on the Holy Spirit of God. When the spirit tries to obey the flesh resists and tries to sabotage the best aspirations of the spirit. We must be sober about this conflict and understand that this is why we do not do what we most know is right. The flesh has to die and the spirit come more alive. What you feed grows. If we feed the flesh it will grow. If we feed the spirit it will grow. What are you feeding? Are you sober about the power of the flesh and do you and I therefore feed our spirit well through God’s word and holy communion, through prayer and the healing power of confession. What are you feeding?
8. The Flesh fuels sin – The acts of the flesh are obvious: sexual immorality, impurity and debauchery; idolatry and witchcraft; hatred, discord, jealousy, fits of rage, selfish ambition, dissensions, factions and envy; drunkenness, orgies, and the like. I warn you, as I did before, that those who live like this will not inherit the kingdom of God (Gal 5:19-210)
This catalogue of sins for Galatians 5 is not exhaustive but is representative of the offensive and obnoxious behavior that flows from the flesh. Be sober about the flesh, it produces ugly children.
So here is a portrait of “the flesh.” It is ugly. You may say I have exaggerated, that the flesh is not really this bad. Well I am not, just buy a newspaper and see what the flesh is up to. You may, by God’s grace, have seen a diminishment in the power of the flesh in your life. That is ultimately what God can and will do for us. He will put the flesh to death in us and bring alive our spirit by the power of his Holy Spirit. But step one is to appreciate what the flesh is and understand its moves. Step two is to bring this understanding to God through repentance. Step three is, by God’s grace, to stop feeding the flesh and start feeding the spirit on prayer, scripture, Church teaching and Holy Communion. Step four is to repeat steps 1-3 for the rest of our lives. God by his grace will cause the flesh to die and the spirit to live by his grace at work in us through Jesus Christ.
There is no musical better at (humorously) depicting the flesh as Camelot. Here are a few video clips that depict well the flesh
In this first video Sir Lancelot ponders what a great and perfect guy he is. He goes so far as to say that “Had I been made the partner of Eve we’d be Eden still!”
In this clip, the Knights (in the flesh) ridicule goodness and sing “Fie On Goodness!”
There is a danger when we speak of God’s Law, to consider it as we might any secular law. For example, we may well consider secular merely to be some sort of impersonal code written by some nameless legislators or bureaucrats. We have not met them, we do not know them, or necessarily love or trust them. In effect, they are an abstraction in our mind called “the government” or “the man” or just “they,” as in, “They don’t want you to park here” or “They’ll fine you for that.”
God’s Law is Personal – But when it comes to God’s Law we are dealing with something different, something very personal, if we have faith. For God’s law is not given by someone we do not know, love or trust. If we have faith, God is someone we do in fact know, someone we love and trust. Further, we believe he loves us and wants what is best for us. God’s law is not the equivalent of a no-parking sign hung by some nameless, faceless city government. Rather it is a personal exhortation, instruction and command given by someone we know and who knows and loves us.
Consider an example. Suppose you pull in front of my church to park and you see a no-parking sign. Now suppose you also decide to ignore it. Alright, you have broken a law, not a big one, but a law nonetheless. You’ve chosen to ignore a sign put there by “the government.” But suppose another scenario: I your beloved blogger and the pastor of the Church you are attending or visiting is standing out there, and I say to you, “Please don’t park here.” Now the situation is very different. I, someone you know and love, 🙂 , am personally requesting that you leave the space open for some reason. When you experience the law this way you are far more likely to follow it, because someone you know and trust is asking and directing you. But what if, despite this, you still choose to ignore the instruction not to park there. Well then, the situation is quite different in this case, for, in this case, the law is personal. The refusal to follow it now becomes personal as well and there is a far more serious situation we are dealing with.
Scripture: In the first reading for Mass today (Monday, week one of Lent) the Law of the Lord is announced. I will not reproduce the whole reading but here is an excerpt:
“You shall not defraud or rob your neighbor.
You shall not withhold overnight the wages of your day laborer.
You shall not curse the deaf,
or put a stumbling block in front of the blind,
but you shall fear your God.
I am the LORD.
“You shall not act dishonestly in rendering judgment.
Show neither partiality to the weak nor deference to the mighty,
but judge your fellow men justly.
You shall not go about spreading slander among your kin;
nor shall you stand by idly when your neighbor’s life is at stake.
I am the LORD. (Lev 19:11-14)
Note how the litanies of the law each end: “I am the Lord.” (These are but two of other litanies). I am the Lord. On the one hand it gives solemnity to the pronouncement. But, at another level what God is saying is, This is Me talking. It is I who speak to you. I who created you, who led you out of slavery, parted the Red Sea, dispatched your enemies, fed you in the desert and gave you drink from the rock. It I, I who love you, I who care for you, I who has given you everything you have, I who want what is best for you, I who have earned your trust. It is I, your Father who speak to you and give you this command.
God’s law is personal. Do we see and experience it this way? This will happen only if we come to know the Lord personally. Otherwise, the danger becomes that we see the Law of God as merely an impersonal code, an abstract set of rules to follow. They might as well have been issued by the deity, the godhead, or even just the religious leaders of the day.
Hence a gift to pray for in terms of keeping God’s Law is a closer walk with the Lord and an experience of his love for us. Such an experience is a great help in loving the Law of the Lord. For when we love the Lord we love his law and see it not as an imposition, but a personal code of love that is meant to protect us. And when we offend against it either willfully or through weakness, we are more able to repent with a more perfect contrition for we experience that we have offended someone we love and who is deserving of all our love.
Abba – St. Paul indicates that one of the gift of the Holy Spirit is that we are able to experience God as Abba. Abba is the Hebrew and Aramaic family word for father. It is best translated, Papa, or Daddy. When my earthly father was alive I did not call him “Father,” I called him “Dad.” That’s the family word for father. This is the insight of the word Abba, that God is my Papa, my Dad. He is not merely “The Father” in some abstract, or merely titular sense. He is someone I experience as my own dear Father, Papa, Dad. It is a personal and family relationship that the Holy Spirit wants to grant us.
This personal relationship brings God’s law alive, makes it personal. And so God says as he reminds of of his Law: I am the Lord. This is me talking – It is I, the one who loves you.
This song says, I Love the Lord. He heard my cry. Long As I live, and troubles rise, I’ll hasten to his throne.” (Sung by Whitney Houston)
When I was younger and through my seminary years I had usually seen the crucifix and Jesus’ suffering on the cross in somber tones. It was my sin that put him there, had made him suffer. The cross was something that compelled a silent reverence, and suggested to me that I meditate deeply on what Jesus had to go through. Perhaps too I would think of Mary and John and the other women mournfully beneath the cross beholding Jesus slowly and painfully dying. These were heavy and somber notes, but deeply moving themes.
In addition the crucifix also called forth memories that I must carry a cross and go through the Fridays of my life. I needed to learn the meaning of sacrifice.
Liturgically I also saw the crucifix as a way of restoring greater reverence in the Mass. Through the 70s and 80s parishes had largely removed crucifixes and replaced them, quite often, with “resurrection crosses,” or just an image of Jesus floating in mid air. I used to call this image “touchdown Jesus” since he floated in front of the cross with his arms up in the air as if indicating a touchdown had just been made. In those years we had moved away from the understanding of the Mass as a sacrifice and were more into “meal theology.” The removal of the crucifix from the sanctuary was powerfully indicative of this shift. Many priests and liturgists saw the cross as too somber a theme for their vision of a new and more welcoming Church, upbeat and positive.
A cross-less Christianity tended to give way to what I thought was a rather silly celebratory style of masses in those years and I came to see the restoration of the Crucifix as a necessary remedy to restore proper balance. I was delighted when, through the mid 80s and later, the Vatican began insisting in new liturgical norms that a crucifix (not just a cross) be prominent in the sanctuary and visible to all. Further, that the processional cross had to bear the image of the crucified, not just be a bare cross.
Balance Restored – I was very happy about these new norms (and still am) because they restore the proper balance in seeing the Mass as a making present of the once-for-all perfect sacrifice of Jesus on the cross. It is also a sacred meal, but it is the sacrifice that gives it its power. I further thought that such a move would help restore greater and proper solemnity to the Mass, and to some extent this has been true.
All of this background just to say that I saw the Cross, the crucifix, in somber, serious tones, a theme that was meant to instill solemnity and sobriety, a meditation on the awful reality of sin and our need to repent. And all of this is fine and true.
But the Lord wasn’t finished with me yet and wanted me to see another understanding of the Cross.
In effect he wanted me to experience also the “good” in Good Friday. For while the cross is all the things said above, it is also a place of victory and love, of God’s faithfulness and our deliverance. There’s a lot to celebrate at the foot of the cross.
It happened one Sunday in Lent of 1994, one of my first in an African American Catholic Parish. It being Lent, I expected the highly celebratory quality of Mass to be scaled back a bit. But, much to my surprise, the opening song began with an upbeat, toe-tapping gospel riff. At first I frowned. But the choir began to sing:
Down at the cross where my Savior died,
Down where for cleansing from sin I cried,
There to my heart was the blood applied;
Glory to His name!
Ah, so this WAS a Lenten theme! But how unusual for me to hear of the cross being sung of so joyfully. (You can hear the song in the video below; try not to tap your toe too much).
It was something quite new for me. Perhaps it shouldn’t have been but it was. The 70s and 80s Catholicism that had been my experience found it necessary to remove the cross to celebrate. But here was celebration with and in the cross! Here was the good in Good Friday.
The Choir continued:
I am so wondrously saved from sin,
Jesus so sweetly abides within;
There at the cross where He took me in;
Glory to His name!
Congregation and choir were stepping in time and clapping, rejoicing in the cross, seeing it in the resurrection light of its saving power and as a glorious reflection of God’s love for us. Up the aisle the procession wound and the last verse was transposed a half step up, an even brighter key:
Oh, precious fountain that saves from sin,
I am so glad I have entered in;
There Jesus saves me and keeps me clean;
Glory to His name!
Yes, indeed, glory to his name! A lot of dots were connected for me that day. The cross indeed was a place of great pain, but also of great love, there was grief, but there was also glory, there was suffering, but there was victory.
Please do not misunderstand my point. There IS a place and time for quiet, somber reflection at the foot of the cross. All the things said above are true. But one of the glories of the human person is that we can have more than one feeling at a time. We can even have opposite feelings going on at almost the same moment!
The Balance – Some in the Church of the 70s and rejected the cross as too somber a theme, too negative. They wanted to be more upbeat, less focused on sin, and so, out went the cross. There was no need to do this and it was unbalanced. For at the cross, the vertical, upward pillar of man’s pride and sin is transected by the horizontal and outstretched arms of God’s love. With strong hand, and outstretched arms the Lord has won the victory for us: there at the cross where he took me in, glory to his name!
And the Balance is for the individual, and for the Church. For some prefer a more somber meditation on the cross to prevail and others feel moved by the Spirit to joyfully celebrate at the foot of the Cross. The Church needs both, and I suppose we all need some of both experiences . Yes, it right to weep at the cross, to behold the awful reality of sin, to remember Christ’s sacrifice. But rejoice too, for the Lord has won victory for us, right there: Down at the Cross. There’s a lot of good in Good Friday.
Photo credit (right click on photo for URL)
Here is the song I heard that Sunday in 1994, sung in very much the style I heard.
