In recent years, the cross has been manipulated into a mere extension of clothing and accessories. There’s no denying its abundant representation found in jewelry, on shirts, along roadsides, and more. This pervasive status is something that the early Church would have never imagined. Yet our affected perspective deprives this sacred and brutal symbol of its true meaning.
The writing of Leon Bloy comes to mind “…the reality of His Cross, will horrify them. They want it all out of gold, bathed in light, costly, and of little weight; pleasant to see hanging from a woman’s beautiful throat” (Leon Bloy, The Pilgrim of the Absolute, 176). While there is beauty in the prevalence of the cross, we risk dismissing its profound weight or pretending to profess something that we fail to understand and believe.
Wearing the cross necessarily proclaims two messages: one celestial and the other terrestrial.
In wearing the cross, a heavy creed is professed, the greatest horror of human history: the murder of God Himself by mankind. However, in the same profession we sing, “O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?” (1 Cor. 15:55). Wearing the pectoral cross, the prelate petitions through the great Munire me digneris, “…may I ever keep in mind the memory of the Passion.” It is in the weight and coldness of the cross as it lies upon their chest that they remember how much was given on and earned by it.
The Early Church knew the horrific reality that took place on the cross. The earliest known image of the crucified Christ comes from the 3rd century AD, not as devotion but as mockery, in the Alexamenos graffito. The Christians who had seen this method of execution practiced felt the visceral pain and humiliation of crucifixion, especially depicting the death of the Lord. As Paul writes, “we preach Christ crucified: a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles.” The saving power of the Gospel is professed in the wretched horror of crucifixion and deicide. It is of course this great paradox that the thin strips of metal proclaim for the world, such beauty showing through such a hateful method of execution.
The second point is one of the terrestrial. Take Sikhism for example—a religion of upwards of 30 million devotees, with a quarter million adherents in the United States, and spanning over five hundred years of history. It is deeply ingrained in the Sikh faith to bear witness in the Pañj Kakār, with the turban being the most famous. However, the most tangential to this article is a simple iron bracelet called a Kara. This bangle serves a twofold purpose, a sign towards oneself and the outside world. It is through the weight of the bracelet that in their action they are reminded of their faith and the moral creed that follows. From there they are reminded that their actions represent not just them but the millions of Sikh men and women across the world who share their creed and kara. In many ways the cross can serve the same purpose.
It is in its ubiquitous nature that the cross has reached unsavory places: the burning cross of the KKK, gold crosses hanging from violent gangsters’ necks, and the Iron Cross embedded in Adolf Hitler’s breast pocket. While these groups are far from espousing the ideas of Christ, therein lies the risk of confusion or strawmanning the faith and her teachings. One might think of the horrors of the 20th century committed by figures such as Krunoslav Draganović, Jozef Tiso, Theodore McCarrick, Frederico Cunha, and Athanase Seromba. Examination of these figures makes one painfully aware that these men were priests . . . Catholic priests. While the acts perpetrated by these men were nothing short of heinous and beyond condemnable on their own, the additional sin of scandal was also brought about through these men’s actions and inactions.
The inverse could be said for the great figures in activism and peace of the 20th century: Saint Oscar Romero, Saint John Paul II, Saint Therese of Calcutta, and Father Theodore Hesburgh. There is something about the presence of their collar or habit—and regarding the first two their pectoral cross—that strongly associated the Church with social justice and righteousness. In wearing a cross, a proclamation is made that one is Christian, and from that, they wish their actions to reflect that of their faith. With this understanding, we see the cross as a public evangelical statement for the Church and her spouse, Christ.
When we wear a cross, we testify in two manners: the salvific message through a bloody and painful but profound sacrifice and the character of Christ and His Church. It is in the wearing of the cross that we are reminded not only of our moral beliefs and of 1.4 billion Catholics across the world, but also of the sacrificial love that our Lord gave for the billions of men and women who have lived throughout history.
Photo by Yannick Pulver on Unsplash
