Sermon for the Salutations to the Holy Cross with His Eminence, Metropolitan Gerasimos
Holy Cross Greek Orthodox Church
March 30, 2026
Introduction
Many years ago I was visiting a seminary classmate of mine in another part of the country, who had been the pastor of his parish for a few years. We were both still relatively early on in our Priesthood, but beginning then to come into our own. He told me about the sermon he had given to his people as elections were approaching. Of course, we are always careful not to tell our people exactly which candidates to vote for, but we do try to help them form their conscience so that they can vote in accord with the values of our faith. He told me, though, that he said to his people: “I know I’m not supposed to tell you how to vote. But I’m going to do so anyway. I want you to vote to restore the monarchy.”
The shock hit me instantaneously and remained for a little bit until I realized what he meant. He wanted his people to vote with the conscience that restores the dominion of Christ’s Kingship over our lives and our society. But, what, really, does it mean to acclaim Christ as our King?
The Witness of History
First of all, we must look to where Christ reigns: tonight we adorn his Throne with our hymns, for it is on the Cross where he reigns. This is where Christ is exalted, as St. John makes clear to us in his account of Christ’s teaching and Passion in his Gospel. Pilate had a sign affixed above him on the Cross which bears the witness of history that this is our King. Of course, that was not Pilate’s intention. Pilate was motivated by fear. He feared that this man really could be a threat to his power, even that he perhaps really did have some kind of divine power. As St. John tells us in his Gospel, when Jesus’ own people accused him of making himself the Son of God, “Pilate … was even more afraid” (19:8).
However, Pilate was also afraid of the crowd that was on the verge of rebellion. He knew that Jesus did not deserve the penalty of death, but he gave into the crowd for the sake of expediency. So the sign that he affixed above Jesus on the Cross: “Jesus the Nazarene, King of the Jews,” he put there more out of revenge than anything else.[1]
Let us also consider, though, the reaction of the crowd. As the late Pope Benedict XVI explains in part two of his series on Jesus of Nazareth, “Holy Week: from the Entrance into Jerusalem to the Resurrection,” the people’s cry that “we have no king but Caesar” (John 19:15) “only appears to be a renunciation of Israel’s messianic hope” (emphasis original). What they are really saying is that they do not want this particular King; they want to do things their own way. And this is the running theme throughout human history. As Benedict says: “Again and again, mankind will be faced with this same choice: to say yes to the God who works only through the power of truth and love, or to build on something tangible and concrete – on violence.”[2]
Truth and Love
Violence is certainly an ugly reality that we are facing more acutely now than ever before in our lifetime: the eruption of multiple wars abroad and social conflict and civil strife at home. It is all due to the same mistake: crucify him, we have no king but Caesar. It is a rejection of truth and love upon which a culture is built on the solid rock of God’s revelation. Pilate asked Jesus the ultimate question: “What is truth?” (Jn 18:38). He could not recognize that Truth was standing in front of him, likely because that Truth seemed so helpless and powerless. But as Pope Benedict also says in his treatise on Jesus of Nazareth and Holy Week:
Truth is outwardly powerless in the world, just as Christ is powerless by this world’s standards: he has no legion; he is crucified. Yet in his very powerlessness, he is powerful: only thus, again and again, does truth become power.
… The center of his message, all the way to the Cross – all the way to the inscription above the Cross – is the kingdom of God, the new kingship represented by Jesus. And this kingship is centered on truth.
Centered on truth and love, that is. We are all yearning for peace. Indeed, our two communities are feeling this lack of peace in the world in a particularly acute way in that we have once again had to postpone our joint pilgrimage we have been trying to plan for six years now due to the outbreak of war. But “peace cannot be established at the expense of truth.”[1] Pilate’s expeditious decision kept Jerusalem calm for a time, but it was not the answer to lasting peace. Only he, who is the truth, is that answer. And he makes himself so by way of the Cross. And he does so all out of love for us.
We could not reconcile ourselves to the Father by our own merits. We incurred the debt and so we owed Him, but it is not a debt but we could pay back by ourselves; only God could do that. So God became one of us in order to do it for us. This is the incomprehensible love and mercy of God. St. Gregory the Theologian explains it well:
Is it not evident that the Father accepts Him, but neither asked for Him nor demanded Him; but on account of the incarnation, and because Humanity must be sanctified by the Humanity of God, that He might deliver us Himself, and overcome the tyrant [i.e., the devil] and draw us to Himself by the mediation of His Son who also arranged this to the honor of the Father, whom it is manifest He obeys in all things.[2]
Unity
We yearn for peace, but those of us gathered in this church tonight also yearn for unity. This is why we are here, gathered together in prayer. The unity of God’s family is, ultimately, the work of God, not our own. Yet we must do our part, but we can only do so if we gather to worship the One who makes it possible, beholding our King hanging on the Cross. It is clear how dear the themes of peace and unity are to Pope Leo XIV already early on in his pontificate. Indeed, “peace” was the first word he uttered as Pope, from the loggia of St. Peter’s Basilica the night of his election. Unity was Christ’s dying wish for his followers, and peace was his first gift after he rose from the dead. Both are possible only when we look to the Cross; however, not only look to the Cross, but also embrace it and live it in our lives, repeating the pattern of Jesus’ kenosis in our own lives.
This, too, is the very point of the fasting and other acts of penance we take on during this season of Great Lent. It is meant to teach us to be less selfish, to stop thinking of ourselves before others. That is the death to self that our Lord teaches us and models for us. That is his kenosis, summed up so well that ancient Christian hymn about Christ’s self-emptying that St. Paul quotes in his Letter to the Philippians: “Christ Jesus, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God something to be grasped. Rather, he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave; … he humbled himself, becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Because of this, God greatly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name” (2:5-9).
We rejoice to call on the Cross to rejoice, the Throne of our King who teaches us the truth, who is the Truth, and who gives us this path to peace and unity in the world. And not only in this world, but forever in the next. The more we can be instruments of peace and builders of unity in the Body of Christ, the more this world will reflect the truth, love, peace and unity of the Kingdom of God.
Conclusion
We do well to sing hymns to the Holy Cross, the Cross which unites us and give us delight, such that we can acclaim: “Having willed to grant grace to men, Christ stretched His hands on the Wood, and calls all the nations together, and grants the Kingdom of Heaven to all that worthily sing the hymn.” And so we sing out with affection: “Rejoice, most noble jewel of truth. Rejoice, fairest haven of salvation. Rejoice, joyful splendor of all. Rejoice, lamp of purest light. Rejoice, you who are the gladness of my soul. Rejoice, O Wood most blessed.”
To him who reigns on the Cross, and now reigns in glory in heaven, be all praise, honor and glory, now and ever and forever. Amen.
[1] Ibid., p. 201.
[2] The Orthodox Faith – Volume I – Doctrine and Scripture – The Symbol of Faith – Redemption – Orthodox Church in America
