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The cross is to carry.
The cross is to lift high so the martyr can see it through the flames.
To die to self upon, daily, as many times as it takes.
The cross is to contemplate.
To help each other bear.
To lighten for one another when we can.
The cross is to pray that God let it pass from you, but that the Father’s will be done.
To trace on the forehead at baptism, and at Confirmation, and at the hour of death.
To mark the grave, from which you hope your loved one rises again.
The cross is to place between yourself and the powers of evil.
The cross is to embrace, spurning the shame.
The cross is heavy. It’s ugly. It’s inconvenient. The cross, when borne correctly, gets you thrown out of polite company. It makes you a pariah to your family. It makes you no addition to a party. It places upon you an obligation that the world abhors.
The cross is to share.
The cross is not a star for your Sneetch belly.
The cross is not a sticker for doing a good job.
The cross is not a talisman to make everything go well.
The cross becomes blasphemy when cheapened. When commodified. When worn by a Crusader or a Nazi or a Prosperity Preacher. When used as a cudgel to beat children, or a stake to burn witches, or a dagger to stab your enemy.
God forbid that you should boast, except in the cross of your Savior. And God forbid that you should boast of your own power, imagining it’s the cross.
God forbid that you should wear the cross as a glitzy piece of jewelry to show off what political clique you belong to.
God forbid that you should wear the Cross of Christ in Whom there is no Greek or Jew, to baptize your White Nationalism.
God forbid that you should wear the Cross of Christ in Whom there is no male or female, to baptize your hatred of Queer people.
God forbid that you should wear the cross on which the Son of God was cruelly murdered, to justify your cruelty to any other child of God.
Not everyone who says, “Lord, Lord,” will enter the Kingdom of Heaven.
The cross is a Sign of Contradiction. It will either be your salvation or your damnation.
The choice is yours.
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Mary Pezzulo is the author of Meditations on the Way of the Cross, The Sorrows and Joys of Mary, and Stumbling into Grace: How We Meet God in Tiny Works of Mercy.
Steel Magnificat operates almost entirely on tips. To tip the author, donate to “The Little Portion” on paypal or Mary Pezzulo on venmo
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