I'll never forget that morning. I was driving into work, and I stopped at a busy intersection, at the lights on an access road next to a major highway. Idly tapping my thumb on the steering wheel, waiting for the lights to change, I glanced over at the sidewalk up in front of me. A young, somewhat disheveled woman was standing at the corner holding two things - a sign and a cross.
The sign said, "Handmade crosses for sale; $20 each." The cross in her other hand was clearly handmade. Not homemade, mind you, because she was obviously an unhoused woman with no home to make them in. On the ground next to her, propped up against random boxes and pieces of cardboard, were about 20 different crosses of various colors and sizes. The larger crosses were $20, the smaller crosses were $10. The lights changed and the car behind me honked. I drove by, turned the corner, and came back around. This time, I pulled off the road onto the grass nearby and I got out to talk to her. She told me her name was Lorenna and that she had made each of the crosses around her. I was really quite astonished. Not only did I recognize the creativity and talent in each of her creations, but I was taken aback by the fact that she had been able to make them in the first place. As someone who interacts with unhoused people on a fairly regular basis as part of my daily job at church, I knew the effort that had gone into making these crosses. Lorenna would have needed to save all her pennies for a while, and then go into a store to buy the tiles and wood. She likely went to the Restore nearby, the retail outlet for Habitat for Humanity, and picked up their odds and ends. Then, she sat down somewhere and made them all, designing, cutting and gluing everything together. Being able to string this sequence of events together is a real feat for someone in her position, as the typical homeless lifestyle works completely against being able to create and build anything. The number one reason for homelessness is not usually drugs or alcohol abuse, or even mental illness. All that can come in later, but by far the biggest reason people end up on the streets is due to "traumatic life events." That's what our County Deputy calls it. Each year, we invite deputies from our county's sheriff's office to come and talk about homelessness to our youth group, and they are very careful to teach that. What are "traumatic life events?" Unemployment that lasts longer than three or four months. Fires that burned down a home that wasn't sufficiently insured. The death of a child. Unstable parents who invite violent people into your home. Divorce. I personally know more than a few people who ended up homeless - or nearly homeless - due to a nasty divorce. Life is not kind or pretty for some. I didn't ask Lorenna what traumatic life event had happened to her. It was already clear that one had happened, and she didn't want to be defined by it. Instead, she wanted to be seen as someone who had value, who could take some of her talents and put her faith in God and be treated like a human. So, she pushed back against the circumstances of her life, and she made crosses that she sold on a city sidewalk. I bought every one of her crosses and I put them into the Gift Shop at church, with a small sign that read "Handmade by Lorenna, an unhoused neighbor." (We sold them all in one weekend.) I gave Lorenna my card and invited her to come and talk with me at church, so that we could figure out a way for her to move forward. She teared up and holding the money said, "This is going to help so much." I wish I could say this story had a happy ending, but the truth is, I don't know how it ends. I never saw Lorenna again, even though I make a point of driving by that intersection as often as I can. But I kept one of her crosses for my own house and I say a prayer for her each time I look at it, and for all those who carry the Cross of Homelessness. I hope she prays for me, as well. But mostly I hope that one day we'll meet again, in the House of Our Father, in that home where there is no more lack, no more "traumatic life events," and no more need to sell crosses on a city corner. Let us pray. Holy Trinity, we pray for all those who carry the Cross of Homelessness. Be near them to comfort, protect and guide them, and help us to do our part in assisting them. And in all things, let us praise you. Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit, as it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.
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At Mass on Ash Wednesday, we sang the song "Ashes," by Tom Conry. (A video of it is embedded above.) Here we are, four days later, and that song is still rolling around in my brain. I keep repeating these lyrics in particular: We rise again from ashes, from the good we've failed to do. We rise again from ashes, to create ourselves anew. Give our stumblings direction, give our visions wider view. An offering of ashes, an offering to you. The Limitless Love Cross, pictured at the top above, images these words. The silver cross is the color of ashes and is formed in the shape of the infinity symbol. The words "God's love is limitless" are emblazoned across the horizontal arm, and there's a small gold heart slowly rising up the vertical arm, as though it is ascending, ever so gradually, up to Heaven.
This cross reminds us of the gift of Lent, of becoming ashes. Of trying and failing. Of getting up and struggling again, offering God our wobbly attempts of prayer and presence, of "gifts not fully given, of dreams not fully dreamt." Lent gives us the chance to realize that God is not just demanding perfection, but rather, is very pleased with all the trying and the striving, with the little bits and pieces we try to offer up. He already knows we can't be perfect on our own because then we would have no need for Jesus, and we are all very much in need of Christ. That's why we are invited to contemplate our eventual return to ashes. What can possibly be lower or more worthless than the dust left after a fire? Nothing. Yet, paradoxically, this is what God asks of us, to submit to fire. But not just any fire. St. Paul reminds us that "our God is a consuming fire." (Heb.12:29) The ashes we are to become are a result of God's fire, of his purifying presence through which we are remade. How many times must we, like the phoenix, die in a heap of ashes so that we can be reborn and rise to new life again? How many times will we cycle through Ash Wednesday and the 40 days of Lent, to rise with Christ on Easter Sunday? Only God knows. But this cross reminds us that "God's love is limitless." So long as we are willing to keep on becoming ashes, we will eventually be perfected into the people God imagined at our creation, at our conception. Our golden hearts will eventually emerge from the ashes, because God doesn't run out of time, patience, or a fiery nature. Let us pray: Holy Trinity, thank you for letting us collapse into ashes. Help us remember we are perfected by Your fire and Your presence and help us to participate in both the best we can. And in all things, let us praise you. Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit, as it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end. Amen. Today is the first Friday of Lent. On this day, we pay some attention to what we eat - or rather, don't eat- by abstaining from meat. For most of us, that's really no big deal. We'll be just fine with some cheese pizza, fish sticks or stuffed ravioli. Maybe we'll toss in a salad and some extra bread for good measure, to round out our meal. Then, we'll wake up on Saturday morning and not give it another thought, at least, not until next Friday. That's why this cross, the Recycled Paper Cross, is so important. The reason we fast from meat on Fridays is not just to check a box on a Things We Do During Lent list. Rather, it's to remind ourselves of one of the three practices of Lent: fasting. We fast from meat for several reasons:
The cross above was purchased through a Fair-Trade organization called Serrv, which partners with artisans in Vietnam to produce goods so that those artists can provide the basic necessities of life for their families. At first glance, this cross looks pretty cheap. It is, literally, made of long pieces of recycled paper, bits of old newspapers and magazines. But on closer scrutiny, this cross reveals it is composed of items of great worth. First of all, it was made by human hands. A person sat down and put hours of time into preparing those long strips of paper so that they were each exactly the same width. Then, more hours went into expertly winding these bits of paper into a design, before assembling it into a finished cross. Next, other people had to collect this cross and take a picture of it, so that it could be shown to people who could buy it. Then more people had to transport it from Vietnam to the US. This one simple Recycled Paper Cross was made with the very valuable materials of Ingenuity, Creativity, Patience, Fortitude, Participation, Cooperation and Faith. Mounds of Human Capital went into this creation, from beginning to end. It's kind of a small miracle that it exists, here, in this form, in another country, instead of floating around as bits of old paper somewhere across the ocean.
That's why we fast - so that we remember our own hunger, and those hunger pangs move us to help feed others. Let us pray: Holy Trinity, help us to fast well. Help us to feel our own hunger and recognize our need to be fed and to feed others in imitation of You. And in all things, let us praise you. Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit, as it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end. Amen. This cross, known as the Clinging Cross, sprang to mind yesterday, when I was at Mass on Ash Wednesday. The first reading, from the Book of the Prophet Joel, read:
Blow the trumpet in Zion! Proclaim a fast, call an assembly; Gather the people, notify the congregation; Assemble the elders, gather the children. (Joel 2:15-16) Listening to this reading as I stood there in church, surrounded by several hundred people, it occurred to me that Lent is not a solitary journey. Each of us, on our own and by ourselves, will return to dust. We recognized that yesterday. But even though we each have to make our own journey to the cross, we don't have to do it alone. We don't, in fact, travel alone, and Thank God for that! There is the individual aspect of faith, yes, but there's also the corporate, communal nature of the Church to consider. We can lean on those around us, those who are also 'on the way,' who are endeavoring to pass through the valley of death to the morning of Easter Sunday. And even beyond those who are on earth with us now, those who are physically making the Lenten journey, we also have the "cloud of witnesses" (Heb. 12:1) praying for us in Heaven. That's what this cross is about. It's a fairly well-known cross, available in many different colors and sizes, and is designed to fit snuggly into one's hand. You can see the gaps where fingers can curl around, just as though you're holding a hand. Because, really, we are. Holding the cross is also holding the hand of Jesus, disguised in the figures of other people. In fact, I was given this light pink Clinging Cross by a friend (proving my point that we are not merely solitary sojourners, struggling on our own). But even more, the people who travel with us, those whose hands we hold, form us as we trudge along together. As Henri Nouwen wrote, the turning point in our lives occurs when we recognize that "the many unexpected events (and people) are not just disturbing interruptions of our projects, but the way in which God molds our hearts and prepares us." (Out of Solitude) We are changed by the people around us. The hands we hold can steady us, and comfort and guide us, and making us into better instruments of God. Whose hands are you holding this Lent? Let us pray: Holy Trinity, help us recognize those who help us and help us see those who need our help. Inspire us to reach out and take their hand, since we know that you are in this loving gesture. And in all things, let us praise you. Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit, as it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end. Amen. Today, the Lenten journey to the cross begins. The first of our 40 crosses. accordingly, is that iconic Cross of Ashes that reminds us that we are made of dust "and to dust we will return." We will receive and see this Cross of Ashes drawn across the foreheads of many people today, reminding us that we are only here for a very short while so we should gather our thoughts, focus our attention and set our sights resolutely upon our metaphoric Jerusalem, just as Jesus did when he set his steps towards that city, knowing exactly what lay in store for Him. Let us not grow weary this Lent, or much worse, distracted and forgetful, but start and end this journey well.
The Cross of Ashes is an image of a few of the lines from T.S. Eliot's famous poem, "East Coker," drawn from his larger work "Four Quartets." Eliot writes: 'In my beginning is my end. In succession Houses rise and fall, crumble, are extended, Are removed, destroyed, restored, or in their place Is an open field, or a factory, or a by-pass. Old stone to new building, old timber to new fires, Old fires to ashes, and ashes to the earth.' The poem reminds us that everything new passes away, from new structures to new houses. But also, what is old passes away. Ultimately, everything returns to the earth, back to the dust from which it came. How we started is where we will end. Eliot invites us to journey down the via negativa, the path of self-emptying, of self-renunciation, where we come to terms with the reality of our situation. He writes; 'The only wisdom we can hope to acquire Is the wisdom of humility: humility is endless.' If we want to gain the life of Christ, the life, the life opened to us through His cross, then we must be prepared to take on His humility as well, the humility that opens out into eternity. Let us pray: Holy Trinity, be with us as we begin our Lenten journey today. Open our eyes, to see what you want us to see, open our ears, to hear your words, open our minds, to understand your path and open our hearts, so we may become you in the world. And in all things, let us praise you. Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit, as it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end. Amen. |
40 Crosses for
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