Homily | September 14, 2026 | Lift Your Eyes (Episode 270)

Today we're celebrating a cross.

Think about that.

The cross was not originally a religious symbol, it was an instrument of execution.

Rome used it to humiliate people, to frighten them, to make an example of them.

Nobody wore a cross around their neck in the first century.

Nobody hung one over the doorway or put one above an altar.

And yet today the church does something almost defiant.

She lifts it up, she exalts it.

She places before the world the very thing that looked like the destruction of Jesus Christ and says, look at it again.

Because what looked like defeat became victory, what looked like weakness became power, what looked like the very end became the beginning, and what looked like the place where God was absent became the place where God revealed just how far he was willing to go to save us.

That's the mystery we celebrate today.

And there's a detail in the first reading that I think unlocks the entire feast.

The Israelites are dying in the desert after being bitten by a serpent.

God tells Moses to make a bronze serpent, raise it on a pole, and then he gives the people a remarkably simple command.

Look at it.

Look and live.

God does not immediately remove the desert, he does not pretend the wound isn't there.

He tells the wounded person where to look.

And centuries later, Jesus takes that strange story and says in today's gospel, just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert, so must the Son of Man be lifted up.

In other words, when you are wounded, I want you to look at me.

When you have sinned, look at me.

When your life has fallen apart, look at me.

When you cannot understand what God is doing, look at me.

When you're afraid of dying, look at me.

Look at me.

Maybe that's the word somebody needs to hear today.

Because when life hurts, we look everywhere.

We look backwards and we play what happened.

We look at the person who hurt us, we look at the diagnosis, we look at the bank account, we look at our mistakes, we look at the future and imagine everything that could go wrong.

We look at our phones, we look for something to numb us, we look to self-medicate, and we sometimes stare at the wound so long that eventually the wound becomes all we can see.

Christianity does not tell you that the wound isn't real.

Christianity tells you your wound is not the whole story.

I want you to look higher.

I want you to look at him.

That's exactly why we exalt the cross.

We're not exalting suffering.

We're exalting what God can do with suffering.

We're not saying pain is good.

We're saying that there is no pain in which Christ cannot enter.

We're not glorified death.

We're not glorifying it.

We're proclaiming that even death is no longer beyond the reach of God.

That's why Saint Paul tells us today.

Christ emptied himself.

He became obedient unto death, even death on a cross.

And then Paul says, Because of this God greatly exalted him.

There it is again, down before up, surrender before exaltation, cross before resurrection.

And that's precisely where Christianity collides with the way most of us want to live.

We want Christianity without surrender.

We want resurrection without Calvary.

We want Jesus to improve our lives without becoming Lord of our lives.

We want him close enough to comfort us, but sometimes not close enough to change us.

But Jesus did not say, admire me.

What does he say?

Follow me.

And sooner or later every disciple arrives at the cross.

Maybe you're right there right now.

Maybe your cross is something nobody in the church knows about.

A marriage that's hurting and in trouble, a child you're worried about, someone you can't forgive, a loneliness you hide very well, a job that's difficult, a temptation you keep losing, a grief that you thought would be over by now, a future that frightens you?

Or perhaps even your cross is simply this.

There's an area of your life that you know Christ is asking you to surrender, and you keep telling him, not this, not now, maybe later.

Then today is not really about a piece of wood from 2,000 years ago.

It's about you and Jesus Christ.

Because eventually the Christian life comes down to one question: Do I trust him enough to give him the thing I'm most afraid to give him?

That is the cross.

And perhaps some of us have spent years asking Jesus to take away a cross when He was, when He's been saying, Give it to me.

There's a difference.

Because Christ doesn't always remove the cross.

Sometimes He does something greater.

He enters into it.

And once Christ enters the cross, the very place we thought would destroy us can become the place where He meets us.

So before we leave church today, I want you to do something very simple.

Look at the crucifix.

I don't want you to really look at the crucifix.

Look at his hands, his feet, his side.

And understand what you're seeing.

This is not God watching humans suffering from a safe distance.

No, this is God entering into our suffering.

This is not God giving us an explanation for every terrible thing that's happened.

No, this is God giving us himself.

Maybe you came here today carrying something heavy.

Bring it to him.

Maybe you came ashamed of something you've done.

Look at him.

Maybe you've been away from him.

Come home.

Maybe you've been negotiating with God for so many years.

Stop negotiating.

Maybe you know exactly what you need to surrender.

Well then surrender it.

Because the most important words in today's gospel will not be a the cross at all.

They're these words.

God so loved the world that he gave his only son.

God so loved the world.

That's what the cross means.

You're not looking at how angry God is with the world.

You're looking at how desperately God loves the world.

You're looking how desperately he loves you.

So today we lift high the cross.

Not because suffering wins, but because love wins.

Not because death is powerful, but because Christ is more powerful, more triumphant.

Not because a cross was the end of the story.

No, Jesus Christ turned it into the doorway to heaven.

So whatever you're carrying today, stop staring at the wound.

Lift your eyes, look at him, trust him completely, give it all to him and live.

Abe crux space unica.

Hail Holy Cross, only our hope.

Amen.