the Crucifix

I recently realized that I have an aversion to the crucifix. That bothers me.

I need a new cross to wear around my neck. I really liked my previous one, it was a plain and simple three-bar Orthodox cross. It seems to have been the only one of its kind, though, as I cannot find one without the crucifix. I don't want one with the crucifix. This is how I have come to realize my enduring aversion to Christ depicted on the cross.

Since I can remember Catholicism, with which I associated the crucifix, has been portrayed to me as wrong and icons as tools of trickery and idolatry. I accepted this without ever looking into either.

For a long time I also had this general line of thought: Christ died on the cross. But then He conquered death, arose and ascended into Heaven. He died so I wouldn't have to. Death (and the ultimate sacrifice) is behind us, and now I must focus on my personal relationship with God and rest in His loving, protective arms.

I still agree with this, but I find that I added some feelings and attitudes between the lines which I am now questioning. Between the lines is an even sunnier outlook on my spiritual walk. Forget the sorrow, forget the pain, forget the (real) sacrifice.

To look at a man dying a horrible death on a cross every day is just as disconcerting as taking an honest look at my soul and describing it's ugly blackness aloud, for all to hear (and oh it will happen someday...before God...before the saints and angels...before the smirking demons). Actually, isn't that what happens when I look at the crucifix? My soul is exposed and I am the guilty one watching the innocent, beautiful One suffer my fate. To read about it is one thing, to see it is quite another.

To be honest, deep down I'd rather encounter this once a year, like on Good Friday, with the buffer of sing-songs and sermons that point one big finger at everyone's sins, not just mine; makes me feel like I belong. And I like to remember that the one dying is God--He can handle it, plus He knew that He'd be alive again soon. It's an insolent thought.

What I'm saying is that my soul doesn't totally grasp the reality of my place before God and what happened at the cross. I don't think I'd handle the situation with such ease of spirit if my innocent neighbor did this for me, died in my place. I'd be devastated and not a moment would go by without the vivid remembrance of what happened. Eventually I might move from devastation to determination to live a worthy life, but I'd be a changed person forever.

The irony is that I was in love with the symbol of the cross (I say "was" because I have new thoughts and feelings about it all now). I put it after my name, I doodled a million of them in my notebook in class...But it's the cross without Christ on it that I loved. Now I wonder, what's the point? I do think that the cross in any form has been made a powerful symbol because of how God has used it. However, why prefer an empty cross to one that depicts the very reason it is important and powerful?

I naturally want to forget the extreme, painful parts of my faith, or at least remember them minimally and with a grain of salt. At the same time I want to celebrate the wondrous, salvific results. I want to have my cake and eat it too.

Well, I have to change. I need to find humility. I need to face Christ on the cross, let it move me, and learn to accept His saving grace and love for such an unworthy soul.

I'm going to buy myself an Orthodox crucifix to wear constantly. Perhaps it is God's plan for me to be particularly conscious of it so that its purpose is not lost in routine. So that I remember His sacrifice and why He had to do it. So I remember that it is by God's grace alone that I live.

Holy God, Holy Mighty, Holy Immortal have mercy on us.