By His Wounds

In his first letter to the Corinthians, St. Paul wrote, “When I came to you, brethren, I did not come proclaiming to you the testimony of God in lofty words or wisdom. For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified” (1Corinthians 2:1-2).

Much like the Jews in Jerusalem, the citizens of Corinth, Greece, experienced the harsh rule of the Roman Empire, but they didn’t dare complain too loudly. They knew too well the horror of crucifixion. So, it seems strange that St. Paul decided to forego “lofty words” and chose instead “to know nothing… except Jesus Christ and him crucified.” But why crucified? Why not focus on Jesus as the teacher, healer, and Good Shepherd? Why not present Him as the Son of God, resurrected and glorious? Why crucified? The prophet Isaiah told us why, when he described the death of the Messiah 700 years before it happened: “He was pierced for our sins, crushed for our iniquity. He bore the punishment that makes us whole, by his wounds we were healed” (Isaiah 53:5). God’s plan for our salvation depended on the humble obedience of Jesus, even though it meant “death on a cross” (Philippians 2:8). St. Paul preached “Jesus Christ and him crucified,” so that all the world would come to know that Jesus “bore the punishment that makes us whole.” When I hold a crucifix in my hand or see one prominently displayed in church, it reminds me to be grateful, for “by his wounds we were healed.”

Last summer, I visited my friend who used to live 2 blocks from me in New Jersey but now lives almost 5 hours away in New Hampshire. She told me she watches the live stream of our parish’s Sunday Mass because it feels like being home. She said that she especially loves the crucifix that hangs above the main altar. I nodded in agreement. Then we both said at once, “because Jesus is looking up.”

I have been inside a lot of churches and seen a lot of crucifixes. Most often, Jesus’ head is bowed, and His body appears lifeless. The crucifix in our parish is very unusual, because Jesus’ head is tipped back, and He is gazing upward. It suggests to me the moment when Jesus used what little strength He had left to raise His eyes toward Heaven and pray, “Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34). At the height of His own suffering, the Messiah prayed for His persecutors, just as Isaiah had foretold: “he bore the sin of many and made intercession for the transgressors” (Isaiah 53:12).

I always thought that Jesus was asking God to forgive the Roman soldiers who had so brutally beaten Him, or the disciples who had deserted Him, or Pontius Pilate, who ordered His execution even though he found “no guilt in him” (John 18:38). The older I get, the more convinced I am that Jesus was actually asking much more than that. His plea had no boundaries; it was universal and timeless. “Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.” He was asking God to pardon all of them and every generation to come. But His plea was also personal. When He asked God to “forgive them,” He was praying for each one of us as well. And I know He was praying for me. All these centuries later, the crucifix is a reminder to be grateful that Jesus still intercedes for us.

St. Paul was determined to spread the Good News of “Jesus Christ and him crucified,” because he knew in his heart that “by his wounds we were healed.”

Thanks be to God

“Without the cross there is no road to heaven”

(From the writings of St. Rose of Lima)