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PAGE 11 — The Georgia Bulletin, June 7, 1990
FOOD FOR THOUGHT
■ The person who “bears a cross’’ can become a life-giver.
In knee-jerk fashion, we may expect to encounter a dour expression on the faces
of those who are bearing a cross, along with the recitation of a litany of complaints.
The Christian way, however, is paradoxical. In it suffering can lay a base for
fresh growth, light emerges within darkness and death prepares the way for life.
Of course, in the world as we experience it suffering also can lay a base for
fatigue and burnout. Those who find that the cross has taken up residence in their
lives may not be able always to act heroically and to project a cheerful disposition.
They may wonder why it became their “fate’’ to endure anxiety or pain or disap
pointment. They may doubt their ability to persevere over the long course of time
needed to resolve difficult situations.
Nonetheless, suffering in the Christian scheme of things is not solely a matter
of putting up with or enduring difficulties. Paradoxically, bearing a cross can change
people. It sometimes happens that they become just the ones who are able —
quite mysteriously — to convey the goodness and happiness of life to others.
David Gibson, Editor, Faith Alive!
Cross over to new life
By Jane Wolford Hughes
Catholic News Service
The winds of the Great Depression
scattered my family’s resources but not
our resourcefulness, our hope or faith.
My parents prophesied, “Things will get
better, but in the meantime...”
In the meantime my mother pressed
my father’s suit daily so he would greet
the world undaunted. (The suit came to
have a life of its own as it traveled on
the backs of neighbors for their job
interviews.)
We went without, but did not go
hungry. We pulled strength from each
other. My mother often reminded us,
“God helps those who help themselves.
He will not forget us.”
Things did get better. The best is with
my brother and me today: knowing how
to cope with life’s adversities.
It is difficult to define exactly what
it means to “carry one’s cross.” Stories
help, however, to illustrate the point.
Tom had the swagger of the locker
room champ. He is good company at
social functions — except when he
indulges his passion for reciting sports
statistics. He is a full-charge type with
a chauvinistic tinge.
I met his son, Mike, at a summer
party. A string bean of a youth, he
struggled to keep his awkwardness
under control and hide behind his
National Honor Society achievement
knowing he never would be the football
star that his father would like to see.
Mike hoped to become a psychologist
and “make people’s lives easier and
more loving.” He added, “My dad is
good at slapping your back but he can’t
hug anyone, even my mom.”
Sally, Tom’s wife, is not the typical
wife of a cold and domineering husband.
Self-assured, with a quick sense of
humor, she wryly unraveled her story.
“I could take his persistent crowding
of me with his orders, even ignore
some,” she said, but his coldness made
her feel “drably undesirable.”
About 10 years ago Sally decided “to
be my own ego booster.” Though Tom
refused therapy, she and their son went.
“I stopped stuffing myself with food
and went back to work,” she said. Now
she is a supervising nurse.
“Our marriage isn’t perfect,” she
added, “but what is! Tom is a good
man. He’s not mean, he just can’t break
out of the person his strict, unde
monstrative father and he created."
Twenty-two years ago I first met
Harvey, a vigorous 60-year-old teacher
of English in a public school. He shone
with the gentleness of one who had
wrestled with life. Born into the decay
of the ghetto, he knew his students’
struggles.
Harvey had suffered with dignity the
slights of the white academic commu
nity and the sweet victory of acceptance
for himself and other black educators.
Then he moved to another city and his
attitude shifted.
“I now realize that by moving to
another city to be near my niece I have
chopped away my roots, the familiar
streets and people who gave me life," he
said. "I have become the dry stick I
never thought I would become."
He added, “The people here are nice
but they are strangers, except for Sister
Anne.”
Though she was trying to convince
him to lead a book discussion, he
thought it was “nonsense. No one will
be interested.”
I encouraged him to try, reminding
him of his past successes. Later he told
me though it was slow at first, he now
has a group of about 15.
“They’re lonely folks just like me. Life
is not so wintery-dark anymore,” he
said, “and I think this transplanted
stick is beginning to root again.”
(Mrs. Hughes is a religious educator
and free-lance writer.)
CNS photo by Larry Day
bearers of the cross
Reluctant
By Father John J. Castelot
Catholic News Service
It seems that Mark wrote for a com
munity, perhaps in Rome, that wanted
to hear nothing about the place of the
cross in Christian life. After all, they
were Easter people of the resurrection!
Persecution didn’t fit into their scheme
of things.
This attitude was risky, however. It
could easily lead to bitter disillusion
ment since these people lived at a time
of potential, if not actual, persecution.
Mark had to disabuse them of their
lopsided view. He didn’t deny the
supreme importance of Jesus’ resurrec
tion. But Mark insisted people would
get to it only by following the path
Jesus took. There are no shortcuts.
Mark portrays the disciples as stub
bornly reluctant to hear the message of
the cross. And when their dreams of
glory are finally dashed by Jesus’ arrest,
they desert him and run away (14:51).
This is not a psychological study of
the disciples’ obtuseness. It is Mark’s
way of teaching that, apart from the
cross, it is impossible to know Jesus, to
be Christian.
Mark has a long section in which
Jesus predicts his sufferings three
times, each time in greater detail. Then
Mark tells the story of the blind
Bartimaeus.
Jesus asks Bartimaeus what he wants
and he answers fervently, “Master, I
want to see.” The effect is powerful:
While the disciples, with perfectly
good eyes, refuse to see the truth and
become progressively blinder, a blind
man begs to see the fight. Mark tells us,
“Immediately he received his sight and
followed him on the way” (10:52). What
way? Calvary, the way the disciples did
not want to walk.
At the end of his Gospel, with
crashing irony, Mark tells of the
centurion at the foot of the cross. This
total stranger has seen no miracles,
heard no words of wisdom from Jesus’
lips, yet he utters the astounding pro
clamation: “Truly this man was the Son
of God!” (15:39). Mark’s message is
inescapable:
We get to know Jesus, not in works
of power or sublime pronouncements,
but in the suffering love of the cross.
For Mark, the cross was the key to
discipleship.
But what did this mean? That one
must five a fife of misery in order to be
a Christian? Hardly.
St. Paul would undoubtedly answer
(Galatians 2:20) that the cross expressed
Christ’s selfless love; he gave himself for
others.
Naturally, Christians, like all human
beings, will suffer. Life is like that. But
for them suffering is not pointless.
Ultimately, “carrying one’s cross” will
mean loving selflessly, as Jesus did.
Another evangelist put the meaning
of the cross in these words: “This is my
commandment: Love one another as I
love you. No one has greater love than
this, to lay down one’s fife for one’s
friends” (John 15:12-13).
(Father Castelot is a Scripture scholar,
author and lecturer.)
FURTHER NOURISHMENT
■ When people struggle with
problems like unemployment, illness
or a difficult child it can lead them to
new understanding of themselves
and others, writes Sally Greiner
Roach in if Knowing God Is So Great,
Why Am I Afraid? During difficult
times, she says, “a comforting God
brings basic change and often
increases our desire for a relationship
with him.” (Liguori Publications, Box
060, Liguori, Mo. 63057. 1990.
Paperback, $3.95.)
Faith Alive! is published by Catholic News Service, 3211 Fourth St. N.E., Washington, D.C. 20017-1100. All contents copyright © 1990 by Catholic News Service.