The Society of Saint John the Evangelist: The Daily Office
Relic of Sorrow / Relic of Hope
Br. Bruce Neal, SSJE
Holy Cross Day, 2008
John 12:31-36a
This month I commemorate an anniversary…of sorts. I have now been with the Society of Saint John the Evangelist for three years. Now that’s not very long at all, I know…especially when compared to most of my brothers. And yet they have been three very full years; I hardly recognize that naïve, soft-spoken man who moved into the monastery in September of 2005. I believe I am a bit different now. Though some of my brothers may disagree, I like to think that I have matured some. And I realize that this has occurred mainly through the influence of death.
At the time I arrived at the monastery, I was not very well acquainted with death. But that soon changed. During the first year that I was here, while I was still only a postulant, I heard about the death of a family member, a cousin of mine in his late thirties, only a year older than I am now. When I was a little boy I tended to idolize him.
Soon after the beginning of my second year here, I was notified about the death of my grandmother, who lived in Kentucky where I grew up. My grandmom was a good Baptist woman who loved Jesus, and she had quite a formative role in my childhood.
And just a couple of weeks ago, at the end of my third year, I learned about the death of someone who once meant very much to me; who was ravaged by disease and dead at the age of 45.
For various reasons, most of which were of my own making…I was not able to say goodbye to any of them. I did not get to toss a handful of dirt onto the coffin; I did not get to help scatter ashes over the Pacific Ocean; I did not get to tell my grandmother that I loved her one last time. So, though I am usually not a grim or morbid person, the subject of death has been on my mind a lot lately.
And, when I am able to stand back and look at death objectively, I realize that it is a rather fitting topic for monastic contemplation. In fact, it is a rather fitting topic for Christian contemplation, especially today. For today, on the liturgical calendar of the Church, we celebrate and pay homage to an instrument of death; for today is Holy Cross Day.
The Feast of the Holy Cross is an old tradition, first celebrated by Christians in the fourth century. The Roman Emperor Constantine, after his conversion to Christianity, ordered the erection of a basilica in Jerusalem at the site of Christ’s crucifixion and resurrection, and he sent his mother, Helena, to the holy city to supervise the project.
By that time the hill of Calvary was covered by tons of earth and debris, and legend has it that during excavation work sometime in the year 325, a wooden cross was discovered …which, because of various signs, wonders, and miracles, Helena believed to be the true cross, the holy cross, the actual cross that Jesus was crucified upon.
Soon a feast day was declared; and large chunks of this cross, as well as countless fragments, small splinters, and tiny shavings gradually spread across the Roman Empire and were venerated as relics. They still are. In fact, to let you in on a little secret, the Society owns one of these relics, a tiny splinter of wood sealed in crystal, which has been attached to the center of a rather plain cross. It was a gift to us from a private collection in the 1920’s. We usually only get it out in Holy Week on Good Friday, but for the feast day today we set it up there, behind the altar.
Of course, there are quite a few doubts about the validity of these relics. The skeptics have pointed out the enormous improbability that the actual cross that Jesus died upon was simply buried in the dirt intact, just waiting to be discovered three hundred years later by the emperor’s mother. Skeptics have also stated that if you gathered up all these so-called relics of the true cross – every splinter and fragment from every shrine, church, and private collection around the world – you would have enough wood to build Noah’s ark. But, personally, I don’t really care what the skeptics say; being a bit of a silly romantic, I like to believe that our relic of the true cross, our little splinter of wood, is the real deal.
But why all this fuss about relics? And does it really matter, anyway? Well, it does matter, for contained in that relic of the true cross, whether or not it’s historically authentic, is a sacramental symbol of the very mystery of our faith. In Christ, God became a human being; in Christ, God underwent a human death and was lifted up for our redemption. We can learn many things from that relic, that little splinter of wood sealed in crystal, such as the importance of life; the value of faith; the truth of our own mortality.
In the chapter entitled “Holy Death” in the Rule of Life of the Society, we read:
We are called to remember our mortality day by day with
unflinching realism, shaking off the sleep of denial.
Paradoxically, only those who remember that they are but
dust, and to dust they shall return, are capable of accepting
the presence of eternal life in each passing moment, and
receiving ever fresh the good news of hope. The anticipation
of death is essential if we are to live each day to the full as
a precious gift… Remembering that death can come to us at any
time will spur us to be prepared…to meet Christ without warning.
We shall remember to express to one another those things that would make us ready to part without regrets, especially thankfulness and reconciliation.
Yes, death is the great teacher who teaches us all about the precious gift of life. It’s a lesson we keep on learning until we ourselves meet death face-to-face. None of us can escape it – the rich; the poor; the successful; the well-educated; the old; the young – sooner or later we will all be well-acquainted with death, and with the sorrow and pain that often accompany it.
But there is good news. That littler splinter of wood, that relic hanging behind the altar, is an icon of sorts. It is a window into the holy and sacred; it reminds us that our Lord has also experienced death; that Christ shares in our sorrow and pain, and in that sharing, our sorrow and pain become holy and sacred as well. Jesus has been lifted up on the cross in order to draw all people to himself. Through the cross of Jesus, every part of our lives – our joy; our grief; our love; our regrets – all of it is redeemed. Through the cross of Jesus, death has lost its sting.
That relic of the true cross hanging behind the altar also brings to mind the urgent need to love and to forgive. As we live our lives, we will unavoidably be emotionally wounded, and we will most certainly wound others. We may seek to distance ourselves from the people we are connected with, for reasons of pride or anger, or in order to protect ourselves and give ourselves space to mend. It has been said that time heals all wounds, yet death whispers in our ear that time is something we cannot take for granted.
If you are estranged from a loved one or have lost touch with someone who was once dear to you, for whatever reason, no matter how valid, or significant, or painful…consider the cost. In the face of death which will one day come, consider the cost now. Do not wait too long to reconnect. Do not wait too long to forgive and to ask for forgiveness. Do not wait too long to tell them that you love them. Speaking from personal experience, you may wake up one day and learn that it is too late; filled with regret, you may discover that you have lost your chance to reconcile, at least in this life. That relic, that little splinter of wood sealed in crystal, reminds us that there may not be a tomorrow; that the next moment of life is sheer gift, and we should use it lovingly and wisely.
For as Christians, we believe that our lives are not our own; they have been purchased by the cross, bought with the blood of Christ. Such a love as great as that compels us to help spread that love to others, beginning with those who are closest to us; those who have hurt us; those we have hurt. Jesus calls us to take up the cross and follow him. And, like the relic behind the altar, the cross can be much closer than we realize. It calls us to action; to love ourselves and others recklessly; to share our lives generously; to fully embrace our humanity, with all its joy and sorrow; to live each day as if it were our last.
This little splinter of wood sealed in crystal; this relic of the true cross that is raised up before you; is it all just foolish fantasy? No, I don’t think so…it is faithful fantasy, yes; but it’s not foolish. Yet the one thing the skeptics do get right is that, ultimately, these relics are completely unnecessary for our lives of faith.
Unlike Helena, the great emperor’s mother, we have no need to go looking for the actual cross that Jesus died upon; for we all carry relics of the true cross inside of us. We all have little splinters of holy sorrow, fragments of sacred pain…that we enshrine on the altars of our own hearts. It is what makes us human.
Worshipping an incarnate God who shares our sorrow, our pain, and even our death, is what makes us followers of Christ.
Believing that – one day – all the woundedness of our lives will be lifted up and redeemed; that one day all lost and broken loves will be reconciled; that one day all tears will turn into laughter, all sorrow into joy…is what gives us hope. Hope that blooms even in the midst of death; hope that is sealed in love; hope that is eternal.
© 2008
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