When my grandparents were on Pilgrimage in Spain in the early 1970s, they came to a certain church. The parish priest was carrying a lovely and unique Crucifix - an image of a miracle-working Crucifix in another church - and my grandmother asked what he was doing with it. The priest told her that he was going to throw it away because it reminded parishioners too much of the Passion of Christ and did not focus upon His Resurrection. And so, my grandfather suggested that instead of throwing it away, they take it home with them. Surprisingly, the priest acquiesced and it hung near the front door of my grandparent's house until they retired and moved back to Ireland. That is when they left it for me. Naturally, I fell in love with it when I first laid eyes upon it.
It is rather shameful that such a beautiful dimension of Catholic piety as sorrowful contemplation upon Our Lord's Passion has been largely discarded since Vatican II. But here it is, all these years later. This Crucifix was solemnly blessed at my parish church on the Feast of the Invention of the Holy Cross.
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