12th Sunday of Ordinary Time

Perhaps you have seen those optical illusions which seem at first to be one thing but then suddenly become something else. The outline of a chalice turns into two faces or an old haggard woman turns into a lovely young girl. What you see depends largely on what you expect to see, and sometimes, once you have seen one of the images, it becomes difficult to find the other.

Likewise, once we understand something, it can be difficult to go beyond that understanding to see things in a new light. Certainly, that was the case for the disciples. When Jesus questioned them as to who people said he was, they identified him with numerous biblical figures; John the Baptist, Elijah or one of the prophets. When he asked them who they thought he was, Peter declared him to be “The Christ of God.” He had good reason to know and understand who Jesus was, or at least he thought he did.

Instead of complimenting Peter for his response, Jesus rebuked him and then told the disciples not to tell this to anyone. How odd, you might think. Why would Jesus, who was calling people to follow him, whose goal is to establish the Kingdom of God, which by definition requires that there be subjects of the king, not want others to know that he is the king?

Because, the image Peter and the disciples had of the Christ was not the image Jesus saw himself to be. Undoubtedly, Jesus initially startled them when he went on to say, “The Son of Man must suffer greatly and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed and on the third day be raised.” Suddenly, like an optical illusion, their perspective of the Christ was changed.

Jesus spoke not of the power and dominion the apostles expected from the Messiah, but of suffering, rejection, and death. Those must have been hard and confusing words that flew in the face of what they had long understood a Messiah to be.

For us, what Jesus says about himself as the Christ is nothing new. We have heard these words of Jesus before, so they no longer shock us. We have the advantage of knowing what lies ahead for Jesus as he and the apostles prepare for their final journey together to Jerusalem. Two thousand years of history and tradition have taught us that many who have followed in the footsteps of Jesus have taken up the cross as Jesus said they should. Some, like Peter, have even done so literally. All of this fits our understanding of what it means to be a Christian, and so, unlike the apostles, we are not shocked by what we hear.

Aside from having heard these words so often, I suspect that we aren’t shocked because we literally do not expect to find ourselves taking up any cross. Martyrdom is not likely to be our fate, so the call to take up the cross is not so frightening for us. Again, the notion of an optical illusion suggests that, like the apostles, we need to view what Jesus said in a different light.

Jesus spoke of taking up the cross before his crucifixion linked the cross with Christian martyrdom, so most likely the apostles did not associate the cross with death. Instead, what came to mind was the cross shaped mark branded on cattle as a mark of ownership. The cross was, in effect, a mark of slavery.  “If anyone wishes to come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.”

Hearing that statement with the notion of being a slave for Christ casts a new light on what Jesus is saying to us. We like to be in control of our lives but Jesus is telling us to give up that control and to keep in mind all that we have is God’s gift to us.

Does the name, Simon of Cyrene, ring a bell with you? He was an innocent bystander who happened to be standing on a street corner in Jerusalem when Jesus came walking by carrying his cross on the way to Calvary.  A centurion ordered him to pick up Jesus’ cross and help him along the way.

Jesus is telling us to imitate Simon. Each day, we are to take up our cross and follow him by being of service to others. Following Christ means offering whatever service we can, in gratitude for all that we have received. That service may not be grand or noble or earthshaking.  If you need ideas, just look at the stained glass windows behind you, which depict the corporal works of mercy. Visit the imprisoned. Visit the sick. Feed the hungry. Give drink to the thirsty. Clothe the naked. Shelter the homeless. Bury the dead.

We also take up his cross whenever we exercise the spiritual works of mercy. Counsel the doubtful. Instruct the ignorant. Admonish the sinner. Comfort the sorrowful. Forgive injuries. Bear wrongs patiently. Pray for the living and the dead.

As Paul observes, we, who are baptized, have clothed ourselves with Christ. We are his subjects in the Kingdom of God. Our mission in this lifetime, then, is to build that kingdom here and now, not to sit back, waiting to be ushered at death’s threshold into a heavenly realm. This world would be a vastly different place if every Christian took up his or her cross daily and did something to build up the kingdom of God in their midst.

Imagine the optical illusion of a chalice and may you see those two faces smiling at each other; a sign that in the Eucharist, we find the fullness of God’s love for us. Envision the optical illusion of the haggard old woman and know that love, done with service, rids the world of sin and reveals the beauty of God, depicted by the lovely young girl. Such is our faith, that we be Christ for one another; such is the mystery we celebrate in the presence of God who calls to respond in humility by taking up our cross daily.