FEAST OF THE HOLY CROSS: Num 21:4b-9, Phil 2:6-11, John 3:13-17

[Since our Parish named Holy Cross, we do not have the regular 24th Sunday reading, instead, we have the readings of the feast of the Holy Cross.]

On this Solemnity of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, the Church asks us to look upon an instrument of execution and recognize what it has become: the instrument of our salvation, the tree of life, and the throne of our King.

The cross was once a sign of shame and terror, designed to break the body and crush the spirit. Yet through the obedience and love of Jesus Christ, it has been transformed. What humanity intended for death, God made the source of life; what appeared to be defeat became Christ’s victory.

When confronted with suffering, our instinct is to look away—from pain, guilt, loss, and the hidden wounds we carry. But today’s readings call us to look closely and to remember, as our responsorial psalm echoes: “Do not forget the works of the Lord.”

In our first reading from Numbers, the Israelites grew tired and impatient in the desert. Their weariness turned into rebellion, and poisonous serpents came among them. When the people repented, God gave Moses an unusual command: make a bronze serpent and mount it on a pole, so that whoever looked upon it after being bitten would live.

God did not simply remove the serpents. Instead, He instructed the people to look directly upon the sign of their affliction in faith. Through that gaze of faith, He granted healing.

Jesus draws upon this image in the Gospel of John: “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, so that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life.”

Christ took upon Himself the poison of human existence—sin, hatred, violence, suffering, and death itself. Though sinless, He carried our wounds to the cross so that they might be healed, giving us those beloved words: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son… not to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him.”

The cross is not a monument to divine anger, but the supreme revelation of divine love. On Calvary, Jesus entered our brokenness and allowed love to go all the way to the end.

This mystery is illustrated in a story about a young woodcarver named David. David lived in a small village, carrying heavy burdens: a meager income, the constant care of his sick father, and deep regrets from past mistakes. He often wondered why his cross had to be heavier than everyone else’s.

One night, David dreamed he was walking up a mountain path alongside hundreds of travelers, each carrying a wooden cross. David’s cross was rough, heavy, and full of sharp splinters. Exhausted, he cried out, "Lord, this cross is too heavy. Please let me cut off a piece of it."

A gentle voice answered: "If that is your wish, you may."

David took out his saw and cut a large section from the bottom of his cross. Relieved, he walked briskly past others. Later, as the path grew steeper, he complained again and cut off another generous section. Now his cross was short, light, and effortless to carry.

Upon reaching the mountain peak, David saw a radiant, golden city bathed in light. However, separating him from the city was a vast, deep chasm with no bridge.

The other travelers arrived and laid their heavy, uncut crosses across the gap. Because they had kept them to their full length, the crosses fit perfectly, serving as sturdy bridges into the city.

David hurried forward, but his cross was far too short. As he watched it slip and fall into the abyss below, he realized in heartbreak that the burden he had refused to carry was the very thing meant to span the gap to his eternal home.

David awoke with tears in his eyes. Looking at his tools, his responsibilities, and his daily sacrifices, he saw them anew. He understood that our daily burdens are not meant to crush us, but—when united to Christ—to bridge our way to eternal life.

This does not mean suffering is good in itself, or that we should pretend pain does not hurt. Jesus Himself wept and cried out from the cross. Nor does it mean we must carry burdens alone when God provides help through family, friends, medicine, or counseling. But it guarantees that no suffering offered to Christ is ever meaningless.

Today, the Holy Cross invites us to two acts of faith:

Look with faith upon your wounds. Bring whatever "serpent" has bitten our heart—grief, guilt, fear, or resentment—to the foot of the cross. Trust that Christ's grace can draw healing even from what has wounded us.

Remember the works of the Lord. When trials tempt us to feel abandoned, look to the cross as the permanent promise that God has entered our deepest darkness so we are never alone.

We exalt the Holy Cross not to glorify suffering, but to glorify the love that conquered it. Let us lift high the cross in our homes, families, and hearts, confessing with joy that Jesus Christ is Lord.

·         We adore You, O Christ, and we praise You, because by Your Holy Cross You have redeemed the world. Amen.