I’ve got a creative spiritual director.  Before this past Holy Week, he told me that I would be wearing a cross around my neck.  No problem, I thought.  I wear a small crucifix most of the time anyhow.  Well, he had a little something more elaborate in mind.  The cross he selected for me was eight inches tall, four inches wide, and weighed in at about eight ounces!

My immediate reaction was one of shock and fear.  I mean, did he seriously want me to wear this huge Catholic bling in public?

Fortunately we agreed that I could wear a light jacket over the top of it to make me feel a bit more at ease.

The purpose in this whole exercise was for me to feel what it might be like to be Simon of Cyrene, the man who helped Jesus to carry his cross.  Simon certainly endured some physical challenges hefting the cross up to Calvary, as I did wearing this heavy brass crucifix all week.  While my experience was nothing in comparison to Simon’s, I did feel a little bit of discomfort, and I was constantly aware of the burdensome weight around my neck.

But I’m sure Simon also experienced some embarrassment and uneasiness.  He surely felt some shame at being associated with this condemned man.  Jesus and those being crucified with him that day were kind of like outcasts to those passing by.  Wouldn’t Simon feel some embarrassment at being associated with this group?

Since I kept my cross fully hidden throughout the week with a fleece jacket, I had no need for embarrassment.  I will say that I was very conscious of its presence, especially for the first day or so.  When I got to work, I hurried into the restroom to check myself out in the mirror.  I could notice a slight bulge from the crucifix, but I was fairly certain that nobody else would pay any attention.  Just to be sure, I turned the crucifix so that the corpus was facing my chest.  Even though it was more uncomfortable that way, it was better hidden, and that was my primary concern.

I made it throughout the entire week without issue.  I even managed to whip my son at H-O-R-S-E and P-I-G a couple of times on the basketball court while wearing it.

So what did I gain from this experience?  I learned that I lack a lot of confidence when it comes to my faith.  My conversion to the Catholic faith didn’t involve any burning bushes, and I wasn’t knocked off my horse like St. Paul.  My conversion has been slow and steady.  Though I now fully embrace all the teachings of the Church, and have for some time, I still don’t feel comfortable trying to defend these beliefs.

I can talk with other Catholics all day long, and I think I’m better informed about the truths of our faith than the average parishioner, but I still have some sort of fear of confrontation.  During the entirety of Holy Week, my biggest fear was that I might have to explain to some non-Catholic why I was carrying this cross.  I would have preferred that my focus be on the great sacrifice that was made for us all.

I’m not sure why I have this fear, and I’m not really sure that the reason matters at all.  But the fear definitely matters.  God has done a lot for me in this life.  He has broken me down, and is building me back up.  I’m certain that He isn’t doing this so that I can sit back and enjoy my faith in secret.  So I’m going to work on this fear.  I’m going to confront it face to face.  I’ve got a spiritual director with a mean streak, and I have a feeling that things could get interesting.  I’ll keep you posted.