The Cross and Divine Vaccines
Finding Redemption Through Suffering
The last two weeks have been marked by the prevalence of violence in our news media and social media. A couple of weeks ago, we remember the incident of Catholic school kids at Mass. A few days later, videos started surfacing about an act of violence on a train. We just celebrated 9/11 a few days ago. And the day before, there was another video released of a political activist who was killed.
I didn’t find out about this until later in the day when the third or fourth parishioner asked me what I thought about the incident. I had to look it up. I saw the video, and social media is taking measures now to regulate those kinds of videos. But I think many of us were moved by the incident. I called a priest friend of mine to see how his community was dealing with it, how he himself was handling it. And we started reflecting on why it is that this incident impacted us more than other incidents.
As a society, as a community, even individually, many of us were moved and were seeking for a way to respond. Now, it’s not my goal for us to fall into a culture outrage. It’s not my goal also to canonize this man—he will be judged and he needs our prayers.
It’s not my goal also to condemn him. He certainly held good views that are in communion with the Catholic faith, but some that were not. It seems to me that the video itself was one of the reasons that impacted us. Another reason was the circumstances surrounding the event. It’s the story of the prophet, isn’t it? In the Old Testament, prophets start preaching the truth more and more and more until it costs them their life.
The Pattern of Truth and Violence
Evil’s response to truth is to annihilate truth and the speaker of truth. We see it in the prophets in the Old Testament. We also see it in John the Baptist, speaking truth to Herod and Herodias, and that would cost him his life. We see it in our Lord, the prophet, who spoke the truth of a new kingdom, of he himself being the way, and that cost him his life.
What is the appropriate response to the suffering of the innocent, to violence? We hear in the first reading that the Jewish people are wandering in the desert and they start complaining about the food of all things. God sends serpents. They respond by praying that Moses intercede for them. And God tells Moses to make a figure of a bronze serpent and wrap it around a wooden pole to elevate it so that if anybody is bitten, seeing the bronze serpent on the pole will bring them healing.
Divine Healing
Now notice the symbolism here.It’s a serpent that’s wrapped around the pole—the very source of their ailment and death that becomes the means for healing. That’s the whole purpose of vaccinations, isn’t it? To extract that which is death and turn it into healing. Our Lord will pick up on that same symbolism we hear in the gospel and say, just like Moses lifted up the serpent, and that brought them healing, so will the Son of Man be lifted up.
The cross, for us, will be the same divine vaccination. What was the source of death in the tree of Genesis, the source of sin, is now the source of our life. But what is the appropriate response to violence, to suffering? Well, our Lord says that he will be lifted up. So in this spirit, and as we celebrate the mystery of the Holy Cross, I want to invite you to look at the wood, look at the cross.
Beyond Individual Responses
What is the Christian response to innocent suffering? Is it outrage? Is it compassion? Is it action? Is it “thoughts and prayers”? Is it justice? All these individually serve a purpose. They are real and human responses.
- Outrage names the wrong.
- Compassion feels the pain.
- Action seeks change.
- Prayer entrusts that change to God.
- And justice aims to set things right.
But individually, they are not enough.
- Outrage without love turns into vengeance.
- Action without prayer turns into mere ideology.
- Compassion without action just fades away.
- And prayer without justice is empty.
The Cross: Repulsive or Transformative?
A friend of mine once posed a challenging question that made me think deeply about the central symbol of our faith: “Why do you Christians wear the cross around your necks? If you think about it, it’s a pretty repulsive thing to do.”
When I asked him to explain, he continued with genuine perplexity: “You are glorifying the instrument of death that was used to kill your Lord. It would be the equivalent of wearing a rifle or a knife around my neck if one of my loved ones had been killed with those weapons. How can you celebrate something so violent?”
His question wasn’t meant to offend, but it revealed a fundamental misunderstanding about what the cross represents for Christians. I could see he was genuinely trying to comprehend why we would embrace such a symbol.
“No, no,” I told him. “That instrument has been transformed. The very cause of our downfall, the very symbol of our death—the cross—has now become the source of healing. In Christ’s death, we have been reborn. Through the blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, we have been saved. Death has already been overcome.”
The cross is no longer merely an instrument of execution—it has become the source of healing and life. When we wear a cross or gaze upon a crucifix, we’re not glorifying violence or celebrating brutality. We’re proclaiming that even humanity’s most cruel and unjust act has been transformed by divine love into the means of our salvation.
This is the profound mystery of our faith: what was intended for ultimate evil has become the source of ultimate good. The wood that once represented death and separation from God now represents life and reconciliation with our Creator. The cross doesn’t make light of suffering—it transforms suffering’s very meaning and purpose.
My friend listened thoughtfully, and I could see him beginning to grasp why the cross isn’t repulsive to us, but rather the most beautiful symbol imaginable: the sign that no suffering, no evil, no darkness exists beyond the reach of God’s redemptive power.
Christ’s Complete Response
Look at the Lord on the cross. He absorbs innocent suffering. He doesn’t turn it away.
- His response is not outrage, but forgiveness. “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34).
- His action – because he is acting – is self-giving love, laying down his life. “No one takes my life away,” he says. “I give it out of my own free will” (John 10:18).
- His prayer is surrender. “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit” (Luke 23:46).
- His compassion becomes total solidarity. He suffers with us, and he suffers for us.
- His justice is not mere retribution, but redemption. He conquers sin and death.
Think of those points of suffering in your life. St. Paul says, “Through my sufferings, I complete what is lacking in the sufferings of Christ” (Colossians 1:24). Think about that. In your sufferings, you complete the sufferings of Christ Jesus. That’s how suffering becomes redemptive. That’s how the cross can be healing in our lives. Not repulsive, not shrugging it away, but something we can shoulder with prayer, with compassion, with courage.
The Transformation of Suffering
The cross shows the complete Christian response to transform innocent suffering into a love that does redeem. That means seeking justice without hatred, action with compassion, prayer with trust, and forgiving as Christ forgave. The Christian response is shaped by the cross, and it leads us to the very resurrection of hope that no innocent suffering is wasted—it can be united to Christ and transformed.
Today, we remember that we are being healed and saved, not from suffering. The Lord didn’t come to save us from suffering. The Lord came to save us through suffering. Today, we celebrate the mystery of the cross. Still, indeed, a mystery, but one that we must embrace in our personal life, our community life, our social life.
So we pray for the wisdom of receiving the cross with action, with prayer, with compassion, with justice. May we find in the cross not a symbol of defeat, but the ultimate sign of love’s triumph over hatred, life’s victory over death, and redemption’s power to transform even the darkest moments into sources of healing and hope.
