The cross has had quite a high profile in recent times. Mel Gibson's film of The Passion put the Cross in the centre of public debate across the globe. While some secular opponents tried to undermine its obvious power by accusations of anti-Semitism, the majority of comments from those who watched it seemed to focus on its brutality. I didn't see the film but knowing about Gibson's wild years in drugs and sex I couldn't help wondering whether he wasn't working out his own guilt and subsequent redemption in every lash of the whip and every thud of the hammer against the nails. How much of our own reflection on the Cross follows similar lines? I know guilt and self-condemnation have been part of my own Lenten reflections in previous years. But how did Jesus see his Passion? And how does Jesus want us to reflect on the Cross?

That he felt forsaken is documented in the Scriptures. Forsaken by some of his closest friends and followers, without doubt. Forsaken by the Father, too? The one to whom he has put every morsel of his faith and trust? It is perhaps too incredible to bear. In the midst of this necessary drawing of the wound, the Scriptures teach us that his compassion never faded. 'Father, forgive them for they don't know what they are doing.' As we gaze at the cross, so often harsh on ourselves, and worse, harsh towards others, Jesus' searing words should cauterise our self-inflicted wounds. We don't know what we're doing. And we don't know why we're doing what we're doing. St. Paul himself made the same plaintive cry: 'instead of doing the good things I want to do, I carry out the sinful things I do not want' (Romans 7:19) Jesus knows full well this human reality. It hampered him throughout his ministry through those from whom he expected most. Peter, the one to whom he gave 'the keys', was also the one who throw it all back in his face in his 3 denials. And how did Jesus take away the shame and pain of that betrayal? With a simple question, 'Do you love me?'

There is no recrimination in such a question. Jesus came not to condemn but to save. To save Peter from the guilt and shame of his failure, to save even the crucifiers from the wages of their cruelty. Because Jesus, looking out from the Cross, seems to see the world very differently to us. What Jesus sees in his brokenness is not the world's guilt, but the world's pain. The suffering, the broken relationships, the clumsy selfishness, the well-intentioned failure, the cruelty and crucifixion - and yes, sometimes in the name of religion. When he looks on that brokenness, he chooses not to blame. He chooses to forgive. In the warm light of this, the Cross becomes not the symbol of our sin, but the place where we get to lay it. Good Friday becomes the liturgy where we mourn our frailty and breathe a great sigh of relief that God can transform it. Our weakness is no longer a problem but the 'happy fault' that calls out Jesus' compassionate and healing love.

HEALING THE PAIN OF LOSS
We are all very familiar with bereavement and loss. Over Christmas, in particular, our televisions and newspapers have confronted us with the brutality of death; with the numbing and disorientation of loss. The world has responded generously to the need and hopefully will continue to do so for months. Homes and villages and lives will be rebuilt. Thank God.

In a year's time, though, in a decade's time, the emotional scars will still remain. The ripping away of loved ones leaves a jagged hole in lives which no amount of money will salve.

This bereavement has been dramatic, traumatic. However, we should not forget that loss is a daily reality in our parishes and schools. Loss through death, divorce, change in domestic circumstances. Much of this loss has a particular impact on children and young people. They are often the peripheral figures because their grief is not as open and obvious. It is thought - quite wrongly - that they are tough and more able to adjust than adults.

The reality is different. In a culture with the highest divorce rate in Europe, 25% of children under 16 experience the divorce of their parents. About 50% of those children see their fathers less than once a week and 20% see their fathers once a year or less. However carefully and well divorce is handled, hurt is inevitable. There can be recriminations and bitter words. It is surely not coincidental that there are about 19,000 suicide attempts by adolescents every year. And there is a rise in clinical depression amongst children under ten.

How can anyone deal with such hurt? The answer is as ancient as human beings themselves. The victims need to talk, tell their story, and we need to listen. They need to name their pain, bring it out from the heart where it will eat away, and subject it to the power of empathy and compassion. It will take time, and a lot of listening, and it will never fully go away, but it can be lived with.

The charity, "Rainbows" offers training and resources for just this sort of bereavement support. Currently, most of its work is done with children and young people who have experienced any sort of loss. It is mainly run in schools by trained volunteers, but can also be delivered in community centres and parishes. The programme helps children work through the natural cycle of grief with their peers in the presence of a trained, compassionate adult.

The Diocesan Education service has been setting up such programmes in schools right across the diocese. They have had a powerful effect on children struggling with anger, grief and insecurity in the light of bereavement or family breakdown. In one school, the programme enabled a child to publicly forgive the parents, whose relationship breakdown, painful enough for themselves, had caused him so much pain.

Reconciliation is at the heart of the Church's mission. Healing people of their hurts and restoring them to wholeness was one of the ways Jesus demonstrated the Kingdom of God. At a time when as a church we are arguing about authority or what words we should or should not be using at Mass, I am hopeful that a suffering world might call us back to proclaiming that same Good News of Jesus.

To find out more about Rainbows and how it could be started in your school or parish, please contact me at the Education Centre. Email: sstewart@netcomuk.co.uk