Carry Don’t Drag

We are now in the season of Lent, a time of reflection and preparation for the celebration of Easter. At the same time, devastating stories from Ukraine are heavy on our hearts. Mask mandates are lifting and there is talk of the pandemic becoming endemic, meaning the virus is here to stay. Covid is no longer a phase; it will remain a part of our life for the foreseeable future. The arrival of Lent is the perfect time to go within and reflect on this transitional time: How do we make sense of the Ukranian people’s suffering and uncertainty? How do we make sense of the United States’ past two years of loss, division, and unrest? How do we move forward in a way that honors the lessons, the losses, and the people whose lives have been changed forever?

Personally, I appreciate the timing as an invitation to go within and find meaning in the many events that occurred over the past couple years and are happening now. The season of Lent reminds us that our human experiences are part of the Christian cycle of death and new life. We can hold our confusion, suffering, and losses in light of the hope found in the resurrection. I need time to reflect on what I have seen, heard, and learned. I find myself with a bit of whiplash, going back and forth between frustration and hopelessness and gratitude and joy. It can all feel confusing.

I draw inspiration from Catherine McAuley, the foundress of the Sisters of Mercy. She said that we should “carry our crosses and not drag them.” The first time I heard this phrase, I was struck deeply. Probably because it made me realize how much I drag my own cross! Yet I appreciate reflecting on the difference in that it helps me see how to hold reality while at the same time not letting it get the best of me.

In her words,

We seem to forget that God calls upon us to take up our cross, and that this cross must be composed of the sacrifice of something that is dear to us, that He requires of us constant watchfulness over our thoughts and words. Is this restraint, this self-denial to make us gloomy, sad or peevish? No, such is not His intent, for it is to the religious loaded with her cross that He has in particular promised the hundredfold, but then this is a conditional promise. It is not made to those who drag the cross after them, who almost push it from them. No, it is to those who take it up generously, courageously, and lovingly. To them He will make the bitter things sweet and the sweet things bitter. [1]

I am dragging my cross when I have unrealistic expectations that send me to a place of frustration. Often this happens as I wait for the moment when everyone gets along or when everything turns out the way I envision. I am “pushing” my cross, as Catherine says, when I am deep in my grief and feeling resentful. It does not feel good to be in that place.

On the other hand, when I carry my cross, I am acknowledging suffering as part of being human and part of the Christian life. I enter into the universal experience, and I do not feel so alone. Instead of feeling resentful or discouraged, I discover an abundance of mercy that energizes my spirit in a way that wants to help others. There is a container for the mysterious dualities of life and this puts my joys and challenges in perspective. I don’t worry about the little things. I focus on trusting God with the big things that I cannot control.

I spent a lot of years resisting the Christian message of carrying one’s cross. I did not spend as much time in reflection when I would hear Jesus’ words in Mark 8:34, If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. That was for others, I told myself. I feared it was a surrender to depression and negativity, which I wanted to avoid. I wanted to be optimistic; to learn my lessons and rush toward the hope of the resurrection. While we do want to journey to new life, we miss the fullness of that life if we neglect the darkness.

In the rush to be positive, I was not giving myself the opportunity to enter into the weakness and vulnerability of acknowledging suffering. Opening myself up to being vulnerable opens the door to intimate conversations and authentic relationships.

Perhaps learning how to carry our crosses is helpful for this transitional time (if we truly are entering an endemic phase). Maybe you will want your forty days of Lent to be about finding prayer practices or spiritual resources that help you carry rather than drag your cross. The reflection time can be helpful as we see devastating images of suffering around the world. Recognizing the difference between dragging and carrying one’s cross shows us how to live with reality. There are circumstances out of our control. There are reactions within our control. In meeting the cross, there is a confrontation of the pain, an acknowledgement of new life, and a softening of the heart.

We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirt, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.

Romans 8:22-25

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[1] Mary C. Sullivan, RSM, Editor, A Shining Lamp (Washington, D.C.:The Catholic University of America Press, 2017), 142.