September 14: Exaltation of the Holy Cross, Teaching, Feeling Good

Today is the feast day of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross.  Basically, it commemorates a very specific event.  Emperor Heraclius of Constantinople invaded Persia around the year 629 to take back, among other things, the cross of Christ from the Persians.  (Yes, it was the actual cross on which Christ was crucified.)  After Heraclius captured the cross, he returned to Jerusalem with it.  When he reached Jerusalem, he stripped off all his emperor finery, put on sackcloth, and, in bare feet, carried the cross up the hill of Calvary to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher.  That's the event that today celebrates.

It kind of amazes me that anyone was able to find the real cross of Christ, since the Romans probably took it down or threw it in a ditch or well so that it couldn't be used as a shrine or relic.  But the thing that really amazes me is the complete humility shown by Emperor Heraclius.  Basically, he dressed like a beggar and carried that tree up a mountain to a church.  Images like that inspire me, make me feel unworthy of calling myself a follower of Christ.  Despite my problems with his politics, Ronald Reagan hugging the weeping child of a Challenger astronaut makes me feel the same way.  Or Bill Clinton comforting a crying child after a hurricane or flood.  A moment of complete humility, of human desolation and consolation.

Today, I had a moment like that in my Good Books class.  We were discussing mental illness and its many complications.  Shame.  Guilt.  Fear.  For an hour and a half, we talked, person-to-person, about moments of alienation and abandonment in our lives.  We talked about the absolute terror of having your own mind turn against you.  It was a good class. After it was over, a student came up to me, told me about her own struggles with depression and drug addiction.  She thanked me for the class discussion.  She told me she hardly ever had an opportunity to talk about her mental illness openly, even with her family.

I felt like Heraclius, stripped and carrying the cross.  I was looking into the face of Christ, and Christ was thanking me for caring.  I felt transformed by the encounter as I locked up the classroom.  That student's words are going to stick with me for a while.  When I think I'm not making a difference as a teacher, I going to remember what she said to me, how I truly felt like a servant of Christ today.

Saint Marty is feeling good.

Feeling a little humble