Take Up Your Cross, Not Another's
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A Lenten Reflection
Several years ago while on a retreat, I noticed an elderly religious person attempting to shift an extremely heavy wooden bookshelf all by himself. I was appalled at this sight. The thought of all possible injuries and accidents that could happen to this poor old person jerked me into action. Without hesitation, I flew to his aid and offered to help him to carry the bookshelf and shift it to wherever he intended it to be. Though the elderly religious politely declined and mentioned that he could manage, I insisted on helping. I was certain that a younger and stronger person like me would get the job done much better and faster. That was until the bookshelf simply refused to budge even after I had put in all my strength into pushing it. Noticing that I was beginning to feel exhausted and embarrassed, the elderly religious chuckled and waved me aside. Positioning himself like a master mover, he steadied himself and in one clean move, shifted the bookshelf one step at a time. Then, looking at me, he smiled and revealed in one word the reason why an elderly person could move something so heavy, while a young and strong person like me could not: technique.
The Temptation to Remove the Cross
In a similar way, when we notice someone struggling, the temptation to step in and relieve them of their suffering can be very enticing. Even St. Peter tried to prevent Jesus from taking up and carrying His own cross to His death and even rebuked Jesus saying “Never, Lord!…This shall never happen to you!” (cf. Matthew 16:21-22).
At the tender age of three, my niece was diagnosed with leukemia. When her mother had to administer the treatment, the screams and cries of agony from her child made her wish she could suffer the pain and side effects of the medication on her daughter’s behalf. When we see a loved one suffer, it is natural to want to alleviate their pain. However, is that the only reason we want to help stop the suffering? More often than not, the temptation to remove the pain that comes with the cross, has to do with our discomfort and unwillingness to face our own crosses.
Upon hearing my niece’s diagnosis and the pain she was in, the entire family wished that one of us adults had it instead, and I was no exception. It was painful and uncomfortable witnessing my niece suffer. Like St. Peter, I could not see the value of the cross that my loved one had to bear. Her discomfort made me come face to face with the reality of my own limitations and woundedness. As much as I would have wanted to carry my niece’s cross, I couldn’t. I had no control, no power, and I too am not immune to suffering and, eventually, death. I realised that wanting to carry her cross was not born out of a pure desire to help, but my need to distance myself from the realities of pain, suffering and mortality. When we witness another suffer, we are given a mirror that reflects our own crosses. We are called not to avoid and distract ourselves by helping another try to eliminate their crosses, but to face our own crosses and be open to what God is trying to show us through them. By avoiding what is hurtful in our life and treating suffering as an enemy, as Joyce Rupp would put it, we cast aside a source of personal transformation.
The cross is not something to fear or despise. Through it, fruits can be borne. Interestingly, it was through my niece’s diagnosis that the entire family began to pray together wholeheartedly. This cross drew us closer to God and we experienced the outpouring of His unconditional love through so many friends, families, and even strangers.
Learning a Ministry of Absence
There were also several occasions where I continuously offered help to the grieving family thinking that my presence would make the experience of the cross more bearable. However, I was surprised and felt hurt when my assistance was rejected, just like the elderly religious moving the bookshelf. This reminded me of Henri Nouwen’s rather counterintuitive invitation towards embracing and practising a ministry of absence. He mentions that “there is ministry in which our leaving creates space for God’s spirit and in which, by our absence, God can become present in a new way”. Even Simon of Cyrene did not carry Jesus’ cross the whole way to Golgotha, similarly we need to know when to step back.
How does God become present in such a new way, especially in the Cross? St. Louis Marie de Montfort is certain that God has enclosed in one’s cross an abundance of grace, life, and even joy. Inspired by 1 Corinthians 1:18, he adds that True Wisdom is found only in the cross because Jesus who is Incarnate Wisdom had to enter heaven by the Cross (cf. Love of Eternal Wisdom 172). Therefore, encouraging and allowing others to experience their cross with Jesus is one of the most beautiful gifts one can offer as a fellow companion on the spiritual journey. Else, we might just find ourselves being disciples of the devil, being in the way of God, instead of being the way for God.
Stand at the Foot of the Cross like Mary
I think St. Montfort had foreseen that we as disciples of Jesus would constantly struggle with the crosses that come our way. Just like St. Ignatius of Loyola who came up with rules for discernment to aid seekers, St. Montfort composed a set of 14 rules for carrying one’s cross to help disciples of Jesus carry their cross well and with love. There is one particular rule which I find most difficult to embrace, especially for disciples like me who are in the helping profession or in the ministry of accompaniment, wanting to help and save everyone except ourselves. That is rule number three: Remember that you are human and that you need God.
We are not God and we are not the Messiah. Jesus is. What is asked of us if we want to be a disciple of Jesus is to take up our cross and not the cross of others (cf. Matthew 16:24). This does not mean to ignore the suffering of others, but to not let the suffering of others distract us from our own crosses that God calls us to bear. May God grant us the wisdom to know when to support the crosses of others, like Simon of Cyrene, and when to step back. And when we struggle to see our loved ones bear the weight of their crosses, like Mary, the perfect disciple, may we as fellow companions on the journey of faith, ask for the grace and courage to stand at the foot of the cross and trust that God will reveal His wisdom in the cross in His time. What the world calls foolishness, God transforms into salvation, reminding us that perhaps the greatest cross of all is not having one.
By Zerah Goh
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