True Relics of the Cross
Text: John 12:20-33
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
According to legend, the mother of Emperor Constantine, a devout Christian woman named Helena, made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem in 326 AD. During that time, she was said to have discovered the true cross, a relic from the death of Christ, the very beams of wood upon which our Savior died. At the site where this cross was discovered, Emperor Constantine ordered that a church be built, now known as the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the dedication of which was on September 14, 335 AD, which is why today is celebrated as Holy Cross Day. Ever since then, there have been splinters and shards of wood that people have claimed to be parts of the true cross. These claims became so many during the medieval ages and the Renaissance, that jokes were widely made that the various splinters and pieces of what were called bits of the true cross were so numerous that Noah could have built his ark out of them.
So why all the claims that these bits of wood were parts of the true cross? In our own cynical age, we might chalk it up to people being deceitful, lying, wanting money for it, or just plain simple-minded stupidity. But that’s too easy and perhaps too arrogant of an answer. There’s something else, something deeper, that makes people want to see these relics, to touch these things that Jesus touched. There’s something deep in people’s souls that wants to take concrete bits from Jesus’ history and make them a part of our own history. It goes back to the request that we heard in our Gospel reading today. There were some Greek believers, waiting for the Messiah, who were in Jerusalem at the time of the feast, when Jesus and His disciples were also in the city. So these believing Greeks went to Philip and asked him, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” They wanted to see the Savior. And so do all those who make pilgrimages, all those who want to hold relics of Jesus’ life. So do we. We want to see Jesus. And, of course, it only makes sense to look for Jesus where He’s best known to be. We want to see Jesus clearly at the cross.
We, along with the Greeks in our reading, look for Jesus in all sorts of places. People have sought Him in relics. Or, if there weren’t any of those around, or if people were doubtful of where those relics came from, they look for Him in other places: nature, the majesty of the mountains and forests, the grandeur of a sunset, the overwhelming power of the ocean. Others seek Him in even greater depths—the inner self, looking for Him in the depths of their own soul, in the mysteries of their thoughts and the feelings of their hearts. They’re looking to see Jesus, to spot Him somewhere, to have a little more certainty that he’s near.
The problem with all those places is that they’re anything but clear. We don’t get a clear image of Jesus in those places at all. It’s impossible to be sure of where any relic comes from—it could be a splinter from the true cross, or it could be from an old house’s crossbeam. Likewise, we can never be certain about the glimpses we get in nature. The same God who creates sunsets also creates tornadoes and black holes. The same Creator who made flowers and birds also created mosquitoes and gnats. So what are we to make of that combination except uncertainty? It’s the same thing when we turn within: What exactly does that feeling you’re having tell you about God, if anything at all? Is that guilt genuine or false? Is that joy permanent or passing? How can you be sure? Is that burning in your chest a message from God or just indigestion? If we want to see Jesus in any of these places—whether it’s relics or out there or in here, we’ll only get a funhouse mirror picture of Him, something that’s forever changing, like the weather, like our emotions, and we’ll only end up with confusion and uncertainty.
Where then are we to turn, if we would see Jesus? We’re standing there by the Greeks at the feast in Jerusalem, asking Philip: “Sir, we wish to see Jesus. We need our faith strengthened. We need to know what He thinks of us, how He feels toward us. We need to see Him.”
And it’s at this point that Jesus says exactly where everyone is supposed to see Him: “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified…for this purpose I have come to this hour…when I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw all people to myself.” If we would see Jesus clearly, we look to the cross.
This, the cross, where Jesus was lifted up from the earth, above the heads of sinners, high on a hill of broken stones outside Jerusalem, the cross which was about to raised, is where Jesus draws the attention of those who want to see Him during the feast in our reading today. It’s where He draws our attention too. He doesn’t tell us to look for His shape in the clouds or in thunder or fire or inner whispers or glimmers or in relics. He doesn’t want to leave us with any doubt as to whether that was really Him. He doesn’t want us wondering what He’s saying or doing, trying to decipher some hidden meaning. No, He wants us to look for Him at the cross because it’s there that we come to understand the reason that He came to the earth—the entire purpose of His life and death. “For this purpose I have come to this hour. For this reason I’ve come to the hour of betrayal and arrest, punishment and crucifixion. This is the whole reason I was born.” It’s at His cross that we see the purest love of God being poured out crimson and scarlet, poured out for the sins of the world, to make the unclean clean, to make sinners holy. It’s at the cross that we see Him as He is, without being mingled with mortal man’s ideas, without any hesitation or confusion—this is the God who dies to save humans, the Lord who gives Himself as a ransom to buy back His wayward and rebellious slaves. This is the One who loves you so much that He’ll do anything to forgive you and make you His forever. It’s at the cross that we see Jesus, God of God, Light of Light, very God of very God, in the clearest light of forgiveness, grace, and mercy.
Where then do we find the cross? We could look for literal pieces of the true cross, but those would be uncertain. We have the cross in surer places though. We have the cross in God’s Word. It’s in His Word of Scripture and the Word preached to you, even now, that Jesus Christ is publicly depicted, rendered in high definition, as crucified before your very eyes. We have the cross painted for us in our daily meditations on His Word, a moment set apart during the day, to close the curtains around everything else in our hustled schedule and just have Jesus’ cross, His forgiveness and love, emblazoned in our minds. We have the cross here in the sacrament, Jesus’ true body and blood given and shed on the true cross are, delivering the cross to us anew at the Communion rail. This is where we receive the fruit of the cross to give us forgiveness of sins, eternal life, and the strengthening of our faith—the things that all come when we see Jesus.
Finally, if we would see Jesus clearly on the cross, we need look no further than our own crosses. Luther, when he was talking about relics of the cross, spoke of the true relic of the cross that’s found in the Church: our own crosses that we bear in our lives, crosses that draw us closer to His cross. And we have certainly seen and felt crosses, especially recently, it seems. Children slain by those who mock the faith, random violence, people murdered simply for who they are and what they believe. It has always been this way, but things seem to be held right before our eyes right now. We feel it, the weight, the cross laid on others, the collateral weight pressing on us. The suffering of a believer is different than plain old meaningless suffering, because our suffering pulls us into the cross of Jesus. It helps us see Him clearer as the one thing needful. It burns away everything else so that we’re left with the one thing that can truly save us for this world and the next: Jesus’ cross. Is it pleasant? No. Is it necessary? Yes. It is beneficial? Absolutely, when we look at it and see Jesus. “For the foolishness of God”—the cross of Christ crucified and the crosses we bear—“is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men.” And through it, we learn to bear our own cross, follow Jesus, and help others to do to the same.
It’s only through the cross of Jesus that we see Him and know Him clearly. It’s only through the cross of Jesus that we reach resurrection and eternal life. So we can honor the true cross, the true sign of triumph, the noblest tree; equaled by none in foliage, none in blossom, none in fruit; symbol of the world’s redemption for the weight that hung there when the Son of Man was glorified. In the name of Jesus, the Crucified One, Amen.
