REFLECTION FOR THE FEAST OF THE EXALTATION OF THE HOLY CROSS, 14 September 2025, by
Most Rev. Joseph Osei-Bonsu
Emeritus Bishop of Konongo-Mampong
Numbers 21:4b-9
Philippians 2:6-11
John 3:13-17
Short History of the Feast
The Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross traces its origins to the 4th century, when St. Helena, mother of Emperor Constantine, discovered the true cross around the year 326. To honour this sacred relic, Constantine built the Basilica of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem, dedicated on 13 September 335. The following day, the cross was solemnly displayed for the faithful, giving rise to an annual celebration. Over time, the focus of the feast shifted from the basilica’s dedication to the mystery of the cross itself. The observance spread from Jerusalem to the Eastern Church, and by the 7th century had reached Rome, where it became a universal feast. The feast celebrates the cross not as a sign of defeat, but as the instrument of Christ’s triumph over sin and death.
Synopsis of the Readings
The Word of God this Sunday places before us a profound paradox. In the first reading, the very image of death – the serpent – becomes, at God’s command, a sign of healing when lifted up in the desert. In the second reading, Saint Paul proclaims the hymn of Christ, who, though equal with God, emptied himself in obedience even to death on a cross; and because of this, God highly exalted him. In the Gospel, these mysteries converge: the Son of Man is lifted up, so that all who believe may have eternal life. What once signified defeat is revealed as triumph. Humiliation is transformed into glory. Suffering becomes the path of salvation. Death itself gives way to life.
Dearly beloved, in the first reading, the Book of Numbers tells us of a weary people. The Israelites, though freed from Egypt, though fed with manna from heaven, are restless and dissatisfied. Their complaints rise like venom: “Why did you bring us out here to die? We have no food, no water, and we are sick of this manna!” Their hearts rebel, and fiery serpents come among them, their bite bringing death. The serpent – always a biblical symbol of sin, chaos, and rebellion – now embodies their unfaithfulness.
But when they repent, God’s mercy breaks in. He instructs Moses to fashion a bronze serpent, to set it upon a pole, and to lift it high. Whoever gazes upon it in trust is healed. Here lies the paradox: the very image of what caused death now becomes the instrument of healing. Not by magic, but by faith in God’s promise.
My dear brothers and sisters in Christ, it is this mystery that Jesus, in the gospel reading from John, reveals to Nicodemus in the night: “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in Him may have eternal life”. The cross is the new bronze serpent. Once the most shameful instrument of execution, it is now the very tree of life. The wood of death has become the wood of salvation.
Then comes the verse we know so well, called the “Gospel in miniature”: “For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him may not perish, but may have eternal life”. Notice again the paradox. God does not love only the righteous, the strong, or the deserving – he loves the world, broken and sinful as it is. And he gives not riches or armies, but his very Son. He gives himself. Not to condemn, but to save. Not to destroy, but to give life.
Brothers and sisters, let us not skim these words as if they were familiar. Let them pierce our hearts. God so loved the world. This love is vast, unconditional, immeasurable. It embraces the sinner and the saint, the forgotten and the proud, the friend and even the enemy. And it is made visible in the Son, lifted high on the cross.
Beloved in Christ, Saint Paul, writing to the Philippians in the second reading, carries us deeper still. Christ, though in the form of God, did not cling to his divinity as a privilege. Instead, he emptied himself, became a servant, entered into our frailty. He humbled himself to the point of death – even death on a cross. Here we see love descending: from heaven to earth, from glory to shame, from life to death. And yet because of this obedience, God lifted him high, giving him the name above every name, so that all creation bows before him. Once again: humiliation becomes glory, obedience becomes exaltation, death becomes life.
Paul does not present this hymn as a piece of theology meant to remain confined to the bookshelf. He offers it as a pattern for our lives. The Philippians were struggling with conflict, and Paul tells them: “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus”. If you want to resolve division, if you want to know the way to peace – look to the cross. Do not cling to privilege. Do not grasp at power. Empty yourself in love. Serve one another in humility. That is the true path to glory.
And this speaks to us today. In our own culture, whether in Ghana or elsewhere, honour is often measured by wealth, by titles, by the grandeur of funerals or public acclaim. But God’s measure is different. Think of the catechist who walks miles each week to share the faith without recognition. Think of the mother who quietly sacrifices for her children, the father who labours each day to provide, the nurse who tends the sick with compassion. These hidden acts shine with the glory of God. They mirror the humility of Christ.
The message is not only for our service; it also for our suffering. Each of us bears burdens: illness, loss, disappointment, sin. Left to ourselves, these can poison us like venom. But if we unite them to Christ, if we lift our eyes to the cross, they can be transformed. The cross assures us: no suffering is wasted. In Christ, even our wounds can become fountains of grace.
Lessons from the Readings
The message is clear: God’s ways are not our ways. The world prizes power, but God reveals glory in humility. The world fears suffering, but God makes it a path to healing. The world dreads death, but God turns it into the doorway to eternal life. So, brothers and sisters, when you face hardship, do not despair. When humiliation comes, do not lose hope. When suffering weighs heavy, do not think it meaningless. Instead, lift your eyes to the cross and remember: “God so loved the world that He gave His only Son”. In that love is courage. In that love is healing. In that love is life eternal.
Let us then live as witnesses of this love. Let us open our heart to the poor, the forgotten, even those who are difficult to love. Let us walk the way of humility and service. Let us trust that the God who raised up his Son will also raise us, turning our humiliation into glory, our suffering into healing, and our death into everlasting life.
Every time we gather at this altar, this mystery is made present. The cross of Christ is lifted high before our eyes. Bread and wine become his Body and Blood, given for us. And we proclaim anew: “For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son”. May we receive that love with faith. May we live that love with courage. And may we bear witness to that love in all we do.