Imagine if Jesus had lived in our time, preached inconvenient truths, challenged the powerful, and threatened both religious and political authorities. Imagine if He were executed by electric chair. Would we place electric chairs in our churches instead of crosses?

We may cringe at the thought. But perhaps we react that way because we have prettified the Cross so much that we have forgotten what it originally represented. We now wear necklaces with small crosses as pendants. We adorn church altars and our homes with beautifully crafted crosses. There is nothing wrong with honoring the Cross. But there is a danger in prettifying it that we forget what it actually means.

The Cross was originally an instrument of torture and execution, much like the electric chair. Crucifixion was a public spectacle of extreme suffering and dehumanization. This helps us understand Peter’s reaction when Jesus predicted that He would be crucified. He took Jesus aside and protested: “God forbid! No such thing shall ever happen to you” (Matthew 16:22). Like many Jews of his time, Peter expected the Messiah to be a powerful king, triumphantly wielding authority from His throne, not a helpless man hanging on a cross.

We are not so different from Peter. We adore Christ crucified, but a prettified Cross can become just an ornament, that is beautiful to behold, but demanding little from us. It reflects our preference for a God who gives us everything but asks nothing in return.

The philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche criticized Christianity for glorifying weakness and suffering. From his perspective, venerating the Cross could seem like celebrating the plight of those crushed or victimized by human cruelty. But perhaps Nietzsche’s mistake was to assume that power must always express itself through domination and self-will. What if God reveals a different kind of power, a power that does not crush the weak but joins them in their suffering? What if the Cross demonstrates His refusal to abandon us in our darkest moments?

On the Cross, Jesus revealed that God does not love us from a distance. He is not indifferent to the pain that afflicts us. He comes close to us and embraces our suffering so that, ultimately, He can overcome it through love. Unbelievers may see only a man hanging on a cross, but we Christians see God hanging there, revealing the depth of His unconditional love for us.

The Cross tells us what love looks like when it refuses to surrender, run away, or give up. That is why Jesus’ words in today’s Gospel are addressed not only to His first disciples but to all of us: “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will find it” (Matthew 16:24–25).

So, when you look at a cross today, or when you touch the cross hanging around your neck, listen to the uncomfortable questions it asks you: What are you willing to sacrifice for the love of God? And perhaps the most difficult question of all: Can you remain faithful to God when He seems to have abandoned you?

On the cross, Jesus cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46). Yet He did not turn away from the Father. That is why the cross is not merely a symbol of suffering. It is the ultimate sign of faith that endures when God seems silent and absent.

I once presided at the funeral Mass of a man who had achieved much in his lifetime, only to undergo a terrible ordeal because of a terminal illness. In her eulogy, his daughter said: “We have great love and respect for our father. But we admire him most, not for his success and achievements, but for the way he embraced the intolerable pain he had to endure every day. It was when he became most helpless that he showed us what courage truly means. He bravely clung to his faith despite the excruciating pain he had to bear. Perhaps this is the greatest legacy he has left us, his children.”