The Use of the Crucifix

HOLY CROSS TRACTS

November 1917

By Father S. C. Hughson, O. H. C.

There are few afflictions that men so shrink from as that of blindness. The sense of sight conveys to the mind so many wonderful and beautiful impressions that we feel we should indeed be cut off from the best the world has to give, were our sight taken away.

It is a scientific truth that every object that is reflected upon the retina of the eye produces a definite effect upon the mind. This law is recognized in all departments of life. The pageantry of royalty, the gorgeous colours and glittering trappings of armies, the order and formal decorum of courts of justice, as well as the ritual of all religions, whether Christian or otherwise, are prepared in accordance with it. By these means the brain receives certain impressions through the sense of sight, and corresponding attitudes of mind are produced which govern our relation to the matters in question.

It was in recognition of this law that holy David prayed: "O turn away mine eyes lest they behold vanity" (Ps. 119. 37). Very likely he had never formulated for himself this scientific law, but he knew by experience that looking upon vanity would ultimately produce thoughts and acts of vanity, and he therefore prayed that the first step might be checked, that his eyes might be turned away lest they should convey to the brain such impressions as would work out into sin. David, however, knew that not only must he guard his eyes lest sin should find an entrance, but he also realized, what many pious Christians fail to understand, namely that this same sense of sight which Satan uses so constantly in order to compass our downfall, can be dedicated to the service of God, and be made a powerful factor in the up­building of His kingdom in our hearts. And so again in the same psalm he prays: "Open Thou mine eyes that I may see the wondrous things of Thy law" (Verse 18). It is this very truth which the psalmist understood so well that underlies the use of the Crucifix.

There has probably never been an age in the history of art when portraits were so common as they are today, and the method employed in their use is precisely that which is to be adopted with the Crucifix. See a mother sitting before the portrait of an absent son. With what joy does she contemplate every line and feature. The eyes, the contour of the face, the expression of the mouth, each speaks to her a different message, recalling the loving service he rendered her when present, and giving her a sweet assurance that, though far away, his heart is still hers. And if there should appear upon his brow some scar, bearing witness to one never-to-be-forgotten day, when he proved his love by fling­ing himself with splendid self-sacrifice between her and some deadly peril, is there one who would think it unnatural and artificial should tears of gratitude and love gather in her eyes, and flow down the old and furrowed face?

Substitute a humble soul for the mother, and an image of our Crucified Redeemer for the portrait, and you will know what the Crucifix is to the disciple of the Lord Who loved us and gave Himself for us. Rude as the handiwork may be, the blessed image tells the old, old story. There we see Him presented to our sight in the supremest act of love the world has ever known. We see there, all dimmed with blood, the eyes which never fail in their tender search for His lost and wandering sheep, the lips which spake as never man spake, bringing peace to the weary soul, and com­fort to the broken-hearted; whose words still have, and will ever retain their ancient power to soothe and heal. We behold in this rude image all the marks of His most holy Passion, the evidences of that love whose mighty torrent, amidst unutterable woe, swept even death from its path and triumphed over the grave, that sinners, even the very out­casts of the earth, might find a straight way to the joys of His Kingdom. What though now "He hath no form or comeliness, no beauty that we should desire Him;" He was "fairer than the children of men, white and ruddy, the chiefest among ten thousand," and it was for the great love He bore us that "His visage was so marred more than any man, and His form more than the sons of men." Look where we will upon that Cross, upon the Form that hangs thereon, and we read the same lesson, the lesson of love,— patient, suffering, agonizing, dying, never shrinking from the cup which that same love had decreed should be drained to its bitterest dregs.

These are some of the considerations which are aroused in the hearts of the faithful as they look upon the Crucifix; these are the solemn and gracious lessons which God teaches us through the physical sense of sight by means of this out­ward, material sign. There is nothing fanciful or theoretical about it. For many hundreds of years saints and sinners have used the Crucifix in every part of the world where the Gospel of Christ has been preached, and the effect has ever been the same.

It has been said to be the very essence of immorality to make oneself an exception to a rule, and we cannot afford to constitute ourselves exceptions to a rule, the following of which has produced a uniform result in the lives of millions of our brethren. If the Crucifix arouses no response in us, let us indeed fear lest it be because the flame of God's love in our hearts is flickering well nigh to going out. Those in whose breasts this love has burned high, whose words and works and silent example have given greatest glory to God, bear unanimous witness to the power of the Crucifix, set ever before their eyes in prayer and meditation.

St. Bonaventure, whose burning love for God gained him the name of the "Seraphic Doctor," was once asked from what book he had drawn the beautiful lessons he had taught. Pointing to the image of the Crucified, he said, "This is the book whence I receive everything I write; it has taught me whatever little I know."

An old French labourer was wont, at the close of each day's work, to repair to the village church and, leaving his hat and spade outside the door, to kneel for many hours before the great Crucifix which hung above the altar.

"What do you say to our Lord when you kneel so long before Him," asked the priest one day. "I don't say any­thing at all," the old man replied, "I just look up there at Him, and He looks down here at me."