The article of the month

This Month… by Teresa Caldecott Cialini

Crucifixion is a horrific way to die—one of the worst humanity has come up with, in all our grossly misspent creativity. The cross would be a natural emblem of utter defeat. But this month, we lift the instrument of that death high and declare it a symbol of Triumph (the feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross falls on Sunday 14th). There is no better illumination of this reframing than the song we sing on Good Friday, the beautiful Vexilla Regis:

Noblest tree of all created,

Richly jewelled and embossed:

Post by Lamb’s blood consecrated;

Spar that saves the tempest-tossed;

Scaffold-beam which, elevated,

Carries what the world has cost!

The cross depicted on our cover this issue is not “richly jewelled and embossed”; it is simple, plain wood. It appears stark against the royal garments of Saint Helen and the rich landscape the artist puts before us. But the saintly Empress indicates where the true treasure in this picture lies, and it is not in her crown, or the castles of the world: her eyes bow before the relic and her hand indicates where our attention should be. As the priest wears a humeral veil when holding the monstrance, Saint Helen’s hand is draped in fabric as she holds the wood of the cross, reminding us that this is not merely a second class relic (an object used by our Lord in his lifetime), but an object that was drenched in his salvific Blood.

Sorrow and hope are so closely intertwined for the Christian. It is only in drawing close to the suffering Lord that we can find our hope, even if we are mired in mourning. “Those who suffer weep before his cross. What night of need was not his night? What fears are not sanctified by his? To be raised up in hope, what grief needs to know more than it has been borne by the Son of Man, who is the Son of God?” (Karl Rahner). If we struggle to stay at the foot of the cross unaccompanied, we can turn to our Blessed Mother, Our Lady of Sorrows (15th September) who is there, waiting. In our July issue a few months ago you may recall the Meditation where Chiara Lubich spoke to this: “Mary under the cross gives us the certainty of holiness. She is a perennial source of union with God, a fountain of overflowing joy. Mary under the cross is my discovery. In her I have found my way.”

Another feast our English readers celebrate, on 24th September, walks us right back to the other bookend of Mary’s earthly time with her Son. When our Lady appeared in Walsingham, she made a very specific request: for an exact replica to be built of the house where she encountered the Archangel Gabriel at the Annunciation. That house was the place where the second Person of the Holy Trinity entered creation, and where the Blessed Virgin became the mother of that man dying on the cross. The shrine has been a destination for pilgrims for a thousand years now, and an opportunity for a humble encounter with the archetype of humility, the Holy Family of Nazareth.

It was at that house in Nazareth that Jesus would later have learnt the properties of wood and the skills of carpentry from Saint Joseph. A tree can be turned into many things, when you work with its natural properties—knowing how far each kind can bend, how strong it is, how well it resists rot and the like. A skilled carpenter can turn a dead tree into extraordinary things, things of use and beauty. But no tree was ever turned into anything as noble as that plain wooden cross that became the Tree of Life. “Lofty timber, smooth your roughness, / Flex your boughs for blossoming….“