There was a saying in Francis’s era that all the theology that Christians needed to know was fully taught in the cross. Even though we are now in the season of Easter, St. Francis was very devoted to the cross. And there is no way to the Resurrection, other than through the cross. So think about that for a moment: all we need to know is fully taught in the Passion and crucifixion of Christ. What does the cross teach us?
Sometimes, we may have some resistance to the cross. We may think that focusing on the cross it is pre-Vatican II; that themes like “redemption and atonement” are primarily Protestant ideas; that the cross is too remote or abstract, or and is not really relevant to us in the modern world. We may not even like the theology of the cross, as it implies suffering, sinfulness, and our need for forgiveness. Further, we may object to the way we understand atonement, which goes something like this: “The world and everything in it were created perfect by God, but Adam and Eve sinned; they became alienated from God; we inherited original sin through them; God tried to rectify the situation by giving the Hebrew people his Law, but they still didn’t get it; finally, the separation was so profound that God had to intervene again and send his Son to die in punishment on the Cross in our place.” Theological concepts such as “blood sacrifice, substitution, ransom, debt, and redemption” are used to describe this theology. Some have even gone so far as to label this as divine child abuse (cf. Fr. Richard Rohr, OFM).
This might be a good time to introduce a Franciscan theologian named Blessed John Duns Scotus. He lived during the Middle Ages from 1266-1308, although he was beatified as recently as 1993 by Pope John Paul II. He is generally considered to be one of the most important philosopher-theologians of the High Middle Ages (together with Thomas Aquinas and William of Ockham). He is known as the “Subtle Doctor” for his subtle arguments during intense theological debates between the Dominicans and Franciscans. His theology (written in Latin, of course) is not easy to understand. In fact, even though his writings have been translated well into modern English, it is nevertheless difficult to comprehend and digest his works.
He is best known for several theological concepts: 1. the “univocity of being,” (that existence is the most abstract concept we have, applicable to everything that exists); 2. the formal distinction (a way of distinguishing between different aspects of the same thing); and 3. the idea of haecceitas (a Latin word he invented meaning “thisness”), the property supposed to be in each individual thing that makes it an individual. Scotus also developed a complex argument for the existence of God, and argued in favor of the Immaculate Conception of Mary, about which a movie was recently released focusing primarily on that debate.
However, today Scotus is often referenced in various Franciscan circles for his teachings on the primacy of Christ, what is known popularly as the “Cosmic Christ” -- that Christ is Lord of the cosmos. This idea focuses on the Incarnation of the Word (when the Second Person of the Trinity became flesh) as the pinnacle of all creation which “sacramentalizes” all creation. It teaches that the Incarnation was not an afterthought on the part of God as a response to man’s sin after the fall of Adam and Eve, but had Adam and Eve never sinned, the Father would still have sent the Son anyway.
Scotus wrote in his Reportatio:
Therefore I argue as follows: in the first place, God loves himself. Secondly, he loves himself in others and this is most pure and holy love. Thirdly God wills to be loved by another who can love him perfectly and here I am referring to the love of someone outside God. Therefore, fourthly, God foresees the union between the Word and the creature Christ who owes him supreme love, even had there never been the Fall…. In the fifth place, he sees Christ as Mediator coming to suffer and redeem his people because of sin.
Preceding these points is the unstated principle that God is love and only love. With this foundation, everything that God does flows from love and only love, including the Incarnation itself. Thus, everything -- all of creation -- flows from the love that is God. Therefore, Scotus holds that the Incarnation was pre-destined and expressive as the “masterpiece” of God’s creation, indeed, the whole purpose of creation. The Incarnation, thus, would have been God’s intention before the world was created and before man sinned, not after.
Several key Scriptural passages support the theology of the cosmic Christ. Let’s start with the Prologue of John. In it, we hear the Word, through whom “all things came to be” (cf. John 1:3).
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came to be through him, and without him nothing came to be. (John 1:1-3)
Other Scriptures follow:
He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. For in him were created all things in heaven and on earth, the visible and the invisible, whether thrones or dominions or principalities or powers; all things were created through him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. (Col 1:15-16)
In times past, God spoke in partial and various ways to our ancestors through the prophets; in these last days, he spoke to us through a son, whom he made heir of all things and through whom he created the universe, who is the refulgence of his glory, the very imprint of his being, and who sustains all things by his mighty word. (Hebrews 1:1-3)
Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavens, as he chose us in him, before the foundation of the world... he has made known to us the mystery of his will in accord with his favor that he set forth in him as a plan for the fullness of times, to sum up all things in Christ, in heaven and on earth… And he put all things beneath his feet and gave him as head over all things to the church, which is his body, the fullness of the one who fills all things in every way.” (Eph 1:3-4; 9-10; 22-23)
In these Scriptures, we see how the Word flows from God’s love, preceding creation; it seems almost predestined. With the teaching of the Cosmic Christ, any theology of the atonement and the redemptive action of the cross as seen as coming about after man’s sin in reaction to and in an effort to reconcile man’s sin is rejected. The Incarnate Word is not believed to be an afterthought of God triggered by and conditioned by human sinfulness and causing God to change his mind; rather, the Incarnation is seen as always having been part of God’s perfect and free initiative based only on his love, not man’s sin. The Incarnation, as believed by Scotus and others, was always part of God’s plan and original design for all creation, before the fall, not after. The idea that the Father would have been provoked to send his Son would be based primarily on human sinfulness and not on God’s love. How could a negative sinful act of man cause a positive act of God -- the Incarnation --, which is the pinnacle of all creation? No, Scotus and others believed that the Incarnation had been planned from all eternity, before creation, before sin. The reason is that God is love and good -- only good --, and, therefore, goodness naturally flows out of Him (like creation itself). And since all creation exists through Christ, (cf. Scripture above) it follows that the Word would come in Person on earth to be with and fulfill all of creation.
Thus, redemption (and atonement) would be an effect, or a consequence, of the Incarnation (even a benefit, if you will), and not the cause of it. Scotus believed fundamentally that the Incarnation of Christ was predestined, absolute, and unconditional, and sin had nothing to do with it. He would not have believed that God’s Masterpiece would never have taken place because man’s sin did not bring it about. In fact, Scotus never asked nor answered the question, “If man had never sinned, would Christ have come into the world?” He said that we cannot know what God may or may not have done if man had not sinned. Instead, he focused primarily on the positive aspect of God being love, not the negative aspect of man being sinful.
Nonetheless, Scotus never denied that Jesus’s coming, or rather, his crucifixion, indeed, had the effects of atoning for sin. And Scotus’s fifth principle of God’s love is Christ as Mediator suffering and redeeming humanity from sin (v.s.). While we Franciscans believe that the Incarnation did, indeed, flow from God’s love and may have happened had man never sinned, on the other hand, we also acknowledge that Christ’s crucifixion on the cross was a response to man’s sin. That is, the Incarnation (Christ’s birth celebrated on the feast of Christmas) could have happened due to God’s love and not determined by sin (happening whether or not man sinned), but the crucifixion on the cross (Good Friday) is impossible to imagine in a world without sin.
Therefore, as Franciscans, we do not reject the theology of the atonement or the cross. Rather, we seek to emphasize the aspect of the nature of God being love, but not to the point that we reject any theological teachings that are firmly rooted in the Church, like the Atonement. Our focus does not take away the role that the Cross played in redemption; rather, we focus on God’s love, rather than man’s sin.
So let’s look at the cross itself. The cross was foundational in Francis’s Christian way of life and remains a fundamental aspect not just of Franciscan spirituality, but of Christianity in general. Our Church teachings, Tradition, and Holy Scriptures have long supported the way of the Cross. The Catechism says, “Taking up one’s cross each day and following Jesus is the surest way of penance… The way of perfection passes by way of the Cross. There is no holiness without renunciation and spiritual battle. Spiritual progress entails the ascesis and mortification that gradually lead to living in the peace and joy of the Beatitudes.” Scripture says, “If a man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.”
For Francis, the cross was crucial to his understanding of God’s love and redemptive mercy. From the beginning of his conversion, St. Francis had a great devotion and veneration for Christ crucified, and he never ceased to preach this devotion until his death.
Francis’s relationship with the cross began at the little church of San Damiano, where he received a locution. A locution is when a person audibly hears a set of ideas, thoughts, or imaginations from an outside spiritual source. It is a form of private revelation, similar to an apparition; but rather than receiving a vision, a locution is heard. Here is the account from Bonaventure:
For one day when Francis went out to meditate in the fields, he walked near the church of San Damiano which was threatening to collapse because of age. Impelled by the Spirit, he went inside to pray. Prostrate before an image of the Crucified, he was filled with no little consolation as he prayed. While his tear-filled eyes were gazing at the Lord’s cross, he heard with his bodily ears a voice coming from that cross, telling him three times: “Francis, go and repair my house which, as you see, is all being destroyed.” (Bonaventure: Book II: 536-538)
At that point, Francis kneeled down and said the following prayer:
Most High glorious God, enlighten the darkness of my heart and give me, Lord, a correct faith, a certain hope, a perfect charity, sense and knowledge, so that I may carry out your holy and true command. Amen.
The cross continued to reveal itself as a foundational part of Francis’s spirituality when he received the mission of the Order together with Bernard of Quintavalle, his first follower, at the church of St. Nicholas. Opening the Bible three times at random, the Scriptures were: “If you wish to be perfect, go, sell what you have and give to (the) poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me” (Matthew 19:21). “Take nothing for the journey” (Luke 9:3). “If anyone wishes to come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me” (Luke 9:23). Francis went with Bernard who immediately gave away everything he owned.
The cross, in the form of a TAU, became like a standard for Francis which he wore on his garments. In front of the bishop and townspeople, Francis stripped himself of his father’s clothes, divesting himself of his last worldly attachments. Then he dressed himself in the penitential tunic in the form of a TAU. He drew a cross with chalk on it to mark himself as a penitent.
Thomas of Celano wrote, “Francis preferred the Tau above all other symbols: he utilized it as his only signature for his letters, and he painted the image of it on the walls of all the places in which he stayed.” In the famous blessing of Brother Leo, Francis sketched a head (of Brother Leo) and then drew the TAU over this portrait. The Antonian Order (founded in 1095) was a penitential order that cared for lepers, and on their habit was painted a TAU. Francis was familiar with them, because they staffed a leper house in Assisi and a hospital in Rome near the church of San Francisco a Ripa. St. Anthony the Abbot of Egypt was (and still is) depicted in icons with the TAU. The TAU originates in the Old Testament: “and the LORD said to him: Pass through the city, through the midst of Jerusalem, and mark an X on the foreheads of those who grieve and lament over all the abominations practiced within it” (Ezekiel 9:4).
In the Fourth Lateran Council of 1215, Pope Innocent III referenced the TAU and quoted this verse in reference to the laxity and corruption in Church and the profaning of the Holy Land by the Saracens. St. Francis, who was at the Council, heard the Pope open the Council on November 11, 1215 with these words: “I have desired with great desire to eat this Passover with you” (Luke 22-15). The Pope continued, “The TAU has exactly the same form as the Cross on which our Lord was crucified on Calvary, and only those will be marked with this sign and will obtain mercy who have mortified their flesh and conformed their life to that of the Crucified Savior.” Pope Innocent III Innocent announced that for him, for the Church, and for every Catholic at the time, the symbol they were to take as the sign of their Passover was the TAU Cross. He ended his homily with “Be champions of the TAU.” Francis did just that.
Francis often wrote of the cross:
And the Lord gave me such faith in churches that I would simply pray and speak in this way: “We adore You, Lord Jesus Christ, in all Your churches throughout the world, and we bless You, for through Your holy cross You have redeemed the world.
And the will of the Father was such that His blessed and glorious Son, Whom He gave to us and [Who] was born for us, should, through His own blood, offer Himself as a sacrifice and oblation on the altar of the cross: not for Himself through Whom all things were made, but for our sins, leaving us an example that we might follow His footprints.
The rule and life of these brothers is this: to live in obedience, in chastity, and without anything of their own, and to follow the teaching and the footprints of our Lord Jesus Christ, who says: “If you wish to be perfect, go and sell everything you have and give it to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.” And, “if anyone wishes to come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.” Again: “If anyone wishes to come to me and does not hate father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple.” And: “Everyone who has left father or mother, brothers or sisters, wife or children, house or lands because of me, shall receive a hundredfold and shall possess eternal life.”
“and you willed to redeem us captives through His cross and blood and death.”
Francis even wrote an in-depth devotion to the cross in his “Office of the Passion” which he wrote for the friars to say from Holy Thursday to the Easter Vigil.
Perhaps Francis’s understanding of the cross is best revealed in a story told in the Little Flowers of St. Francis “On Perfect Joy.”
One winter day Saint Francis was walking to the chapel of Saint Mary of the Angels from Perugia with Brother Leo, and the bitter cold made them suffer keenly. Saint Francis called to Brother Leo and said, “Even if one of our brothers gives sight to the blind, heals the paralyzed, drives out devils, gives hearing back to the deaf and makes the lame walk, write that perfect joy is not in that.” And going on a bit, Saint Francis cried out again in a strong voice, “Brother Leo, if a friar knew all languages and sciences, and if he also knew how to prophesy and to reveal not only the future but also see the secrets of the consciences and minds of others, write down and note carefully, that perfect joy is not in that.” Brother Leo, in great amazement, finally asked, “Father, I beg you in God’s name, what is perfect joy?” And Francis replied, “When we come to Saint Mary of the Angels, soaked by the rain and frozen by the cold, all soiled with mud and suffering from hunger and we ring at the gate and the porter comes and says angrily, ‘Who are you?’ and we say, ‘We are two of your brothers,’ and he contradicts us and says, ‘You are not telling the truth, you are two rascals who deceive people and steal from the poor. Go away!’ Oh, Brother Leo, write, that is perfect joy! And if we endure all his insults and injuries with patience, oh, Brother Leo, write, that is perfect joy! And now hear the conclusion, Brother Leo. Above all the graces and gifts of the Holy Spirit which Christ gives to His friends is that of conquering oneself and willingly enduring sufferings, insults, humiliations, and hardships for the love of Christ. For we cannot glory in all those other marvelous gifts of God, as they are not ours but God’s, as the Apostle says, ‘What have you that you have not received?’ [What do you possess that you have not received? But if you have received it, why are you boasting as if you did not receive it (1 Cor 4:7)]. But we can glory in the cross of tribulations and afflictions, because that is ours, and so the Apostle says: ‘I will not glory save in the Cross of Our Lord Jesus Christ!’ (cfr. Gal 6:14)
Francis’s words here echo the words of St. Paul written in his letter to the Corinthians:
Therefore, that I might not become too elated, a thorn in the flesh was given to me, an angel of Satan, to beat me, to keep me from being too elated. Three times I begged the Lord about this, that it might leave me, but he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.” I will rather boast most gladly of my weaknesses, in order that the power of Christ may dwell with me. Therefore, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and constraints, for the sake of Christ; for when I am weak, then I am strong.
In these words of both St. Francis and St. Paul, we see a keen devotion to the cross not just as an abstract theological idea, but as a personal way of life. We see in both of them a radical commitment to imitating Christ on the cross by not only embracing their “crosses” but by precisely finding contentment, joy, even glory and strength in them. By finding “power in weakness” and “glorying in tribulations and afflictions,” Francis and Paul received spiritual strength. And this is precisely what sets Christians apart radically.
And when we live our lives dedicated to the cross in such a radical fashion, something changes inside us. For most of us, it is spiritual, emotional, maybe psychological. But for some, it is also physical. In fact, some have concluded that St. Paul received the stigmata on his body due to the words he wrote, “I bear the marks of Jesus on my body” (Gal: 6:16). St. Francis, too, had this experience. The cross that was imprinted internally on his heart some twenty years earlier in San Damiano mysteriously manifested itself externally on his body in the stigmata.
Francis went to the mountain of Laverna in 1224, two years before he died, to fast and pray in honor of the feast of St. Michael the Archangel (Sep. 29). The month of September is replete with images of the cross, including the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross (September 14). On September 17, Francis received the stigmata. The Legend of the Three Companions said:
From that hour [after the locution at San Damiano], therefore, his heart was wounded and it melted when remembering the Lord’s passion. While he lived, he always carried the wounds of the Lord Jesus in his heart. This was brilliantly shown afterwards in the renewal of those wounds that were miraculously impressed on and most clearly revealed in his body. From then on, he inflicted his flesh with such fasting that, whether healthy or sick, the excessively austere man hardly ever or never wanted to indulge his body. Because of this he confessed on his death bed that he had greatly sinned against “Brother Body.” … We have told these things about his crying and abstinence in an incidental way to show that, after that vision and the message of the image of the Crucified, he was always conformed to the passion of Christ until his death.
Thomas of Celano said that the cross that was imprinted internally on his soul at San Damiano would manifest itself externally on his body in the stigmata on Mount Laverna. “From that time on, compassion for the Crucified was impressed into his holy soul. And we honestly believe the wounds of the sacred Passion were impressed deep in his heart, though not yet on his flesh.”
There on Mount Laverna St. Francis prayed for two gifts: to feel in his body the pain which Jesus felt during his Passion and to know in his heart the love which Jesus felt for all humanity. And Francis, mysteriously, received the stigmata – the wounds of Christ – on his hands, feet, and side:
On a certain morning about the feast of the Exaltation of the Cross, while Francis was praying on the mountainside, he saw a Seraph having six wings, fiery as well as brilliant, descend from the grandeur of heaven. And when in swift flight, it had arrived at a spot in the air near the man of God, there appeared between the wings the likeness of a man crucified, with his hands and feet extended in the form of a cross and fastened to a cross…. As the vision was disappearing, it left in his heart a marvelous fire and imprinted in his flesh a likeness of signs no less marvelous. For immediately the marks of nails began to appear in his hands and feet just as he had seen a little before in the figure of the man crucified.
Francis was at once overwhelmed with joy, but doubled over with pain. The prayer that Francis made is remarkable. Francis had dedicated his life “carrying the cross” of Christ. The love of God that he discovered through the cross determined everything he did and how he lived his life. He loved Christ on the cross so much that he desired to be with him where he was – there on the cross. That is why he made this twofold prayer -- to feel in his body the pain of the cross, but also in his heart the love that Christ had for all people. In fact, there is a connection -- a oneness -- between sacrifice and charity. The cross, in fact, is the ultimate sacrifice, the ultimate charity of God.
The life of Francis was now inexplicably and mysteriously united to that of Christ. The Incarnation of Christ, the “masterpiece” of God’s creation, indeed, the whole purpose of creation (to use the words of Scotus) culminated in the Passion and crucifixion as the highest expression of God’s love, charity, and mission: “When Jesus had taken the wine, he said, ‘It is finished.’ And bowing his head, he handed over the spirit” (John 19:30). The life, love, and mission of Christ were marked by the two great feasts of Christmas and Easter. Similarly, Francis’s life and devotion to Christ was defined by the two great events of the re-enactment of the nativity scene at Greccio (the Incarnation) and the reception of the stigmata at Laverna (the crucifixion).
Ultimately, the wounds of the stigmata were and remain a mystery. Just like the cross of Christ. And as there were some who doubted at the time of Francis, so there remain those today who doubt it, as well. Some have concluded that Francis had contracted leprosy (cf. Chiara Frugoni: “the Life of Francis” and Donald Spoto: “The Reluctant Saint”). Yet, the stigmata remained a mystery also to St. Padre Pio who himself said that he himself did not understand the stigmata.
Finally, it is important to note that as Christians and Franciscans we do not put our hope solely in the cross. The cross was not the ultimate goal that the great saints sought: Heaven and the Resurrection were. The cross is not our final vocation: the Resurrection is. The cross is the mere pathway to the Resurrection. Without the cross there is no Resurrection; unless God comes down in the world, there is no way to go up to Heaven. Thus, in the end, suffering on the cross does not have the final word: the Resurrection does. By embracing the cross, Christ shows us the way. And Francis, by embracing it, is an example of how we should live.
So from these reflections, we have seen what the cross meant to Francis, but what does it mean to us today? As followers of St. Francis, we don’t necessarily seek to emulate them in everything they do; rather, we seek to take inspiration from their lives which we make relevant to us today. So what does the cross do today? I believe that the cross is not just an abstract theological idea taught in seminaries and debated among theologians. Nor is it something embraced only by the great saints like Francis. I believe that, like Francis, the cross can still be worked into our personal spirituality and our daily lives. In effect, we, too, can have a “personal relationship” with the cross.
Many of us often want God to remove our crosses. We pray over and over for him to remove them, but he doesn’t. Many times we become frustrated. However, in this, are we not looking to God as a “worldly messiah” who will give us “health and wealth”? Is this not the same Messiah that many Jews hoped for, one who would unite them, bring peace, free Israel from the pagan Roman Empire, and restore their nation like the military kingdom of David? In Christ’s own lifetime, many turned away from him when they realized that Jesus was not that kind of Messiah. Instead, Christ’s Messiahship was one that foretold of a spiritual kingdom with authority over heaven and earth where love and forgiveness from sins ruled. Just the same, many today give up and turn away from God when he does not deliver them from their ailments. But the wise Christian, truly catechized in the faith, knows that losing himself is the way to true life. Then, our “crosses” are not a sign of God’s disfavor, but they are a sign of his glory. This is the experience not only of St. Francis and St. Paul, but all the other great saints who have gone before. They do not glory in their gifts, but in God’s gifts and their own weaknesses.
All of us – today as well as 800 years ago – can still impute our sins to the cross and, through it, become holy. “Now those who belong to Christ [Jesus] have crucified their flesh with its passions and desires.” (Gal: 5:23) But first, what do we mean by “sin”? The Greek word for sin was “amartia,” which literally means “to miss the mark.” At some level, sin is a disobedient action or inaction that is offensive to God because it goes against his nature, which is good. For example, if God is truth and we tell a lie, we are doing something against what he is. Yet, when many of us hear the word “sin” we become uncomfortable. We may associate sin with vice, dissipation, and moral turpitude. We may think that our sins are not great since we are not thieves, connivers, adulterers, etc. We are good people; we are honest with the people we live and work; we go to Mass regularly; we obey the laws. Or, perhaps somewhere along the line in our lives we received guilt and shame and, perhaps, we spent a lot of time trying to get “good.” So any talk of sin relives that sense of guilt. Yet Scripture tells us, “There is no one just, not one,” (Rom 3:10) and “All have sinned and are deprived of the glory of God” (Rom 3:22). Just the same, none of us are not completely unholy – “totally depraved” as a 16th century Protestant reformer believed since we were created good in the image of God. We have already said that the essence of who we are is good. There is always a little bit of good in the worst of us and a little bit of bad in the best of us.
So what is sin? It implies more than just dissipation and wickedness. In addition to violation of the Commandments or the traditional capital sins of pride, wrath, greed, sloth, lust, envy, and gluttony there are others. These include attitudes that are less than perfect like doubts, fears, resentment, despondencies, impatience, lack of love, shame, guilt, etc.
So, how does this relate to the cross? The Passion of Christ was not just an historical event; it is not just a remote event that happened out of which a theology of atonement was developed. Nor is it merely a “ticket” to heaven through which we are “justified” abstractly or intellectually for our sins. The cross is the bridge between God – who is holy, pure, all good, only good, and sinless – and us who are unholy, impure, and sinful. The cross purifies the soul of all its defects, vices, shame, and sin.
Regardless of whether our sins are great or small, whether they deal with vice or negative attitudes – it is the cross that closes the gap between God’s holiness and our own unholiness. The cross fully absolves us of from all these attitudes. In effect, the cross purifies us and makes us holy and spotless – just like God – whether we are, indeed serious sinners or normal less-than-perfect people.
Though your sins be like scarlet, they may become white as snow; Though they be red like crimson, they may become white as wool. (Is 1:18)
You shall be a glorious crown in the hand of the Lord, a royal diadem held by your God. No more shall men call you ‘Forsaken,’ or your land ‘Desolate,’ but you shall be called ‘my Delight,’ and your land ‘espoused.” For the Lord delights in you, and makes your land his spouse. As a young man marries a virgin, your Builder shall marry you; And as a bridegroom rejoices in his bride so shall your God rejoice in you. (Is 62:3)
Reflect for a moment on these Scripture verses. Do you believe what they say? When you look in the mirror, do you see someone “white as snow or wool?” Do you believe that you are God’s “delight, espoused to the Lord?” Or do you believe that God would never want to be with you as you are. I see a lot of people who believe there is something wrong with them inside. That they have to become something else before God will love them – that they have to become something else in order for God to love them. They do not believe that God loves them as they are. From religion, they continually ask God to change them – to make them different. This originates in shame, which is an effect of sin. It does not necessarily mean that the particular person committed a great sin and they are paying the consequences. Yet, shame is a consequence of original sin. The fact is that no one among us will ever be totally pure until we are glorified in Heaven. In the meantime, we have the cross: God allowed his Son to die on the cross for us. In the cross is our connection to God and his holiness and purity. If you don’t believe that you are as “white as snow” and “espoused to the Lord”, I would suggest that you look to the cross.
We can bring everything to the cross that is unholy in us. In order to do this, we need to be attentive to what our sins are. Through our self-examens we discover what our sins are, which we can unite to the cross in prayer: guilt, shame, fears, doubts, anxieties, resentments, negative attitudes and other feelings. Then we impute them to the cross. When we do this, they stick to the cross -- almost like metal sticks to a magnet. In this, Jesus on the cross is our sacrificial lamb onto which we cast all our ugliness inside. This ordinarily happens in the sacraments -- especially in baptism and reconciliation--, but it also can happen in prayer. In prayer, imagine that the cross is inside of you and that everything negative within you is sticking to it. There it is cast away. All of it. And God is smiling through the entire process. You are “white as snow” and “espoused to the Lord.”
God gave us his laws and truth, but he also gave us our lives, everything we have, creation, and each other. He did this -- as he does everything -- out of love for us in order to enjoy, praise, and revere him in our free will. Yet God did not stop there. He is so good and loving that he gave us himself on the cross as a sacrifice to take up all our sins. God loves us and gives so much that he takes even our sins. God actually wants us to give our sins to him on the cross so that we will become redeemed, holy, purified, and spotless. The cross is the ultimate example of just how much God loves us, and it shows us how he wants us to be free and pure.
You may feel that you are not worthy to give your sins to God. However, this is precisely what the cross is for. It gives us the opportunity for cleansing and it creates purity within us. You may ask yourself, “How can God, who is infinitely greater, holier, more powerful, and omnipotent give himself for me in this way?” And, you would be right to ask yourself that. Scripture says, “Indeed, only with difficulty does one die for a just person, though perhaps for a good person one might even find courage to die. But God proves his love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us” (Rom 5:7-8). In fact, the Cross reveals “the power of God” (cf. 1 Cor 1:24), which is different from human power; indeed, it reveals his love which is not according to human logic: “For the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men” (1 Cor 1:25).
Once we understand the cross, then we, too, can develop a “personal relationship” with God through it. Then, we come to love Jesus and the cross passionately. When we understand that the cross is the bridge that connects us to heaven and purity, and when we attach our sins to it, then we have closed the gap that separates us from God. Our sinfulness is no longer a barrier to God, but through the cross, we are connected and united to God. Because of the cross, we never have to be good enough, holy enough, pure enough (in fact, we realize that we never can be); instead, we are forgiven and washed clean.
When the cross and Passion become a working part of our spirituality and we have developed a relationship with God through the cross, then we, too, want to glory only in it. We can repeat with St. Paul, “May I never boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world” (Gal: 6:14). Thomas of Celano said of Francis, “Who can express, who can understand how far Francis was from glorying in anything save in the cross of our Lord?” Francis himself said, “But in this we can glory: in our infirmities and bearing daily the holy cross of our Lord Jesus Christ.”
Scotus, Reportata Parisiensia III, d. 7, q.4, n. 5.
Cf. “The Cord” June, 1990; Volume 40, No. 6. p. 165-169.
Cf. Paragraph 1435; 2015, Catechism of the Catholic Church (1997 edition).
Cf also Thomas of Celano II (Book II: 249-250); Legend of the Three Companions (Book II: 75-78).
This prayer is mentioned in several manuscripts. They all indicate that Francis prayed it at the foot of the crucifix of San Damiano.
Second Version of the Letter to the Faithful, 11-13
rule of 1221, chapter I
rule of 1221, chapter XXIII
The Little Flowers of St. Francis, Part I, Chap VIII
2 Cor 12:7-10
Legend Three Companions, Chap V
2 Celano 10 (Book II: 249)
Bonaventure, Major Life, chap. 13
Cf. Calvin, John. "Ephesians Ch 2:1.". Commentaries to the Epistle of Paul to the Galatians and Ephesians. Translated by Rev. William Pringle.
2 Celano: chapter CLIV