A Photo From Rome: Levate crucem sublime! (Lift high the cross!)

Since my arrival in Rome last September, I have taken many photographs during my wanderings through the Eternal City. Of all of these pictures, I do not know that any are as beautiful as the one I took this evening on my back to the Casa Santa Maria after successful walk to buy a few cans (19) of Dr Pepper:

It is even more beautiful when cropped:

The picture is taken on the famous Ponte Sant'Angelo (The Holy Angel Bridge), not too far from the Basilica of Saint Peter. The bridge was first built by the Emperor Hadrian in A.D. 134 to connect the mausoleum he built for himself across the Tiber River with imperial Rome. As such, the bridge was first named after him and was called the Pons Aelius.

Over time, Hadrian's mausoleum was fortified and eventually became a fortress for the Popes after Pope Saint Gregory the Great had a vision of an atop the mausoleum announcing the city of Rome would be saved from the plague. After that, naturally enough, both the fortress and the bridge leading to it were named after the angel.

Today the bridge is flanked by ten statues of angels, each one holding a different instrument of the Lord's Passion, as envisioned by the great Bernini and commissioned by Pope Paul III. Regrettably, the bridge is in great need of a thorough cleaning, as has recently been given to Bernini's colonnade in St. Peter's Square, though I do not think one is planned. Even with the many black market peddlers who block the sidewalks on the bridge selling rip off bags and sunglasses to tourists and police alike (if I were mayor of Rome, removing them would be my first act in office), the bridge is one of my favorite sites in Rome.

At any rate, as the light of the sun shone upon the angel with the cross against the backdrop of the powerful storm clouds, I could not help but think that the cross always stands as a great light in the midst of the darkness of the world. For this reason, we are always called to life it high.

At the same time, my mind thought instantly of those beautiful words preached by Saint Peter Damian for the feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross. I do not have his exact words available to me, but I do have the text of a homily I gave in which I adapted his sermon:

It was a piece of wood that put us in opposition with our Creator and so it is fitting that another piece of wood should bring us salvation. It was on a piece of wood that Moses lifted up the serpent of bronze when the Lord commanded the people to look upon it and be healed (cf. Numbers 21:4-9). In doing so, Moses gave us a sign to remember when the one true cross would come; it is a sign that the Lord has promised never to abandon us to ourselves.

You must remember, dear brothers and sisters, that on the Day of Judgment each of us must stand before the Lord to give an account of our lives. The holy cross will be carried solemnly in the arms of angels and placed before all of humanity. It will not be adorned with jewels or gold, for what could be more honorable, more precious, than the Blood of the Lamb? God himself will make this cross, this wood, shine more brightly than all of the stars of heaven.

The cross will be the new scales of justice on which we will be weighed and be found either lacking or accepted. The measure against which we will be weighed is none other than the measure of Christ’s own cross: how much have you loved (cf. John 13:34)?

You can be sure of this, that those who lovingly embraced the cross throughout their lives will receive their glory. You can be sure of this, as well, that those who refused to take up the cross will know only disgrace.

The cross is a footpath to those of us just beginning on the journey of faith, a highway for those of us fighting the good fight, and a secure resting place for those who have been good and faithful servants.

For the cross of Christ is the way. “Whoever wishes to come after must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me,” says the Lord. “For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and that of the gospel will save it” (Mark 8:34-35).

To the world the cross looks like hardship and pain, but to those of us who believe, it is a fortress against the night and an oasis against the heat. The cross bears momentary death only to reward us with eternal life. It robs us of earthly things only to compensate us with things from heaven itself. It instructs us in humility in order that we too might be exalted like the Lord our Savior.

Sad yet happy

On this very day in the year of our Lord 1224, when he spent time in a hermitage on Mount La Verna, Saint Francis of Assisi received the sacred stigmata.

While he was in prayer he received a divine vision. His biographer, Brother Tomaso of Celano describes the event:

…he saw a man above him with six wings like a seraph whose hands were outstretched and whose feet were joined together, and who was nailed to the cross… When he saw this, the blessed servant of the Most High was filled with admiration, but he was unable to understand the meaning of the vision. He was inflamed with joy by the loving sweetness of the Seraph’s glance, which was immeasurably beautiful, yet he was terrified by the consideration of that cross to which he was nailed and the bitterness of his passion. He got up feeling sad yet happy at the same time, if this is what we call it, and joy and sorrow were intermingled in him…

His [Francis’] hands and feet were pierced right through the middle by nails and the heads of these nails could be seen in the palms of his hands and on the upper part of his feet, whereas the ends came out on the opposite side. The seals were round on his palms and long on the backs of his hands, and a bit of flesh, like a twisted and riveted end of a nail, stuck out from the rest of his skin… Moreover his right side looked as if it had been pierced by a lance and had a long scar that bled frequently so that his robe and his underpants would often get wet…

Although this servant and friend of the Most High found himself adorned with these pearls, like most precious gems, and was more wonderfully rich in honor and glory than any other man, he nevertheless did not become haughty about it deep within himself and never attempted to boast about it with anyone out of the desire for vainglory. Instead, in order to prevent the favor of men from stealing heavenly grace from him, he tried to hide it in every way possible (First Life, 94-95).

What perhaps strikes me most about Francis’ vision is that it left him “feeling sad yet happy” and that “joy and sorrow were intermingled in him.”

So very often we consider sadness and happiness and joy and sorrow as complete opposites, in such a way that one cannot be in the presence of the other. Francis was, of course, filled with sorrow at the Passion of our Lord and filled with joy at having seen the Lord in his glory upon the Cross; it is possible to experience both at the same time and it is good to do so.

It is only right that joy and sorrow, sadness and happiness, mark our lives, for with these seemingly contradictory emotions and characteristics are present within us we imitate the Poverello, and in imitating him we imitate the Lord himself.

My own life is marked with much sadness and yet much happiness, as well. The deaths of my parents, in particular, stand out as the saddest days of my life and have, quite naturally shaped my outlook on the world. And yet, it was through their deaths that I came to experience the joy of suffering with Christ. I am, as it were, a man of joy and sorrow.

It was through their deaths – and through other events of my life as well – the Lord offered his Cross to me. It is not easy to embrace the Cross, but there is also something very intriguing and inviting about it, almost even compelling. The Cross beckons to us and the more we attempt to resist its call, the more intently we hear this call. The more we run from the Cross the greater our sadness becomes, but if we embrace the Cross our sadness is accompanied by much happiness and joy.

It is because my life has been marked with such sadness, I think, that smiling does not come naturally to me. As I walk down the sidewalk or go shopping or what not, I only rarely have a smile on my face; most commonly I am straight-faced, and many – for one reason or another – interpret this as my being sad, when I am in reality quite content. The sorrows of my life daily accompany me; so, too, do the joys of my life. The sadness and joy of the Cross is always present.

For this reason, when I do smile it is a genuine smile and, I am told, it brightens a room. Perhaps it does; if it does, it is because it is authentic and sincere. But let us return now to Saint Francis.

If we look at what is said to be the most authentic and true life image of Saint Francis that we have, his face is one marked by sadness and happiness. Though he bears no smile, a smile is forming, as it were, in his eyes.

Let each of us, then, approach the Cross of Lord in humility of heart, that we, with Saint Francis, might be marked the sorrow and joy of the Cross.

Homily - The Exaltation of the Holy Cross

The Solemnity of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross[1]

On this most solemn of days, dear brothers and sisters, we have come to rejoice in a piece of wood; we exult in that wood on which hung the Savior of the world.

It is right that “we should glory in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, for he is our salvation, our life and our resurrection; through him we are saved and made free.”[2]

For the ancient peoples the cross was the ultimate sign of terror and dread and in this very sign that the world sees as the greatest humiliation and degradation we see the sign of victory that has saved us! We come today to venerate and praise that instrument of our salvation, the cross of Christ.

What is the cross if not the scale that weighed the price of our salvation? The sins of us all were weighed against the life of Christ. Our life came at a very great price, indeed! This cross, the greatest scale of all, fully satisfied the bond of our damnation and released us from our ancient debt incurred through sin.

The cross is, as it were, that great lever that lifted the world and restored it to harmony with the Creator. Under the standard of the cross we find protection from evil, though it does yet realize that Christ has won the victory once for all! While we sat in darkness, the cross transformed us into children of light (cf. Matthew 4:16 and Ephesians 5:8); while we were enemies, it made us members of the household of God; and when we were slaves the cross made us children of God the Father.

It was through wood – through the tree of the knowledge of good and evil – that the prince of pride subjected us to the slavery of sin (cf. Genesis 3:1-24), and it was through wood – the wood of the cross – that the Author of Humility received as his children and as his heirs of grace. Through wood, the Devil subjected us to exile, and through wood the Most High King declared us heirs to his kingdom. Through wood we were reduced to feeding swine and wanting slop, and through wood we were received into our Father’s embrace (cf. Luke 15:12-32).

In short, it was through a piece of wood that we lost friendship with the Lord – the tree of knowledge through which the serpent deceived our first parents, deceiving them into thinking that they, too, in their pride, could be like God.

It was a piece of wood that put us in opposition with our Creator and so it is fitting that another piece of wood should bring us salvation. It was on a piece of wood that Moses lifted up the serpent of bronze when the Lord commanded the people to look upon it and be healed (cf. Numbers 21:4-9). In doing so, Moses gave us a sign to remember when the one true cross would come; it is a sign that the Lord has promised never to abandon us to ourselves.

You must remember, dear brothers and sisters, that on the Day of Judgment each of us must stand before the Lord to give an account of our lives. The holy cross will be carried solemnly in the arms of angels and placed before all of humanity. It will not be adorned with jewels or gold, for what could be more honorable, more precious, than the Blood of the Lamb? God himself will make this cross, this wood, shine more brightly than all of the stars of heaven.

The cross will be the new scales of justice on which we will be weighed and be found either lacking or accepted. The measure against which we will be weighed is none other than the measure of Christ’s own cross: how much have you loved (cf. John 13:34)?

You can be sure of this, that those who lovingly embraced the cross throughout their lives will receive their glory. You can be sure of this, as well, that those who refused to take up the cross will know only disgrace.

The cross is a footpath to those of us just beginning on the journey of faith, a highway for those of us fighting the good fight, and a secure resting place for those who have been good and faithful servants.

For the cross of Christ is the way. “Whoever wishes to come after must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me,” says the Lord. “For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and that of the gospel will save it” (Mark 8:34-35).

To the world the cross looks like hardship and pain, but to those of us who believe, it is a fortress against the night and an oasis against the heat. The cross bears momentary death only to reward us with eternal life. It robs us of earthly things only to compensate us with things from heaven itself. It instructs us in humility in order that we too might be exalted like the Lord our Savior.

All of the world’s wisdom has stood in opposition to the cross, and yet here we are. All of the world’s wisdom sees the cross as a sign of defeat and failure, and yet here are. All of the world’s wisdom tells us that the cross is not the way, that we must be strong and independent, and yet here we are, bending down, as it were, to kiss the holy cross.

Do not think, my brothers and sisters, that the world can be right. If you believe that acceptance of the cross or the practice of humility is a sign of weakness and failure, then you do not know the truth. For only cowards rely on brute strength, and only weaklings prey on the vulnerable. The cross is the very fulcrum which has turned the world upside down – where once there was evil sitting on the throne, now there is love.

That is what we come here to remember. For we preach Christ crucified, to the Jews a scandal and to Gentiles foolishness but God’s foolishness is wiser than any human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than any human strength and so, for us who believe, Jews and Gentiles alike, the cross of Christ is nothing less than the power, the wisdom and the glory of God.

O blessed cross, O holy cross, more valuable are you than all the gold of the world, more brilliant are you than any jewels of the earth, for it is through you that we have indeed been saved. May we be found worthy to carry you with our Savior, and be raised with him to heavenly glory. Amen!

[1] Adapted from the homily of St. Peter Damian on the occasion of the Solemnity of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross and of a homily of the Rev. Michael Fuller, adapted from the same homily of St. Peter Damian. Both in C. Colt Anderson, Christian Eloquence: Contemporary Doctrinal Preaching (Chicago, Illinois: Hillenbrand Books, 2005), 108-125 and 226-228.

[2] Entrance antiphon of the day.