You may have noticed recent media references to “childless cat-ladies”. By and large, these have been politically spiked, positive neither to women or cats. For a start, the woman of whom I write today was definitely not ‘childless’, for she, Saint Helena as the Church honours her, was the mother of Constantine the Great, the Emperor who converted to Christianity. [Now, do trust me dear reader. I will eventually reveal how Helena did have an apostolic connection with cats!]
Helena [c.248 CE – c.330 CE] gave birth to Constantine on 27 February, c.272 CE. Before the Battle of the Milvian Bridge in 312 CE, where several contenders sought to establish themselves as sole Emperor, Constantine claims he saw a vision of a fiery Cross in the night sky together with the words “In this sign, you will conquer”. Constantine won the battles and was proclaimed Emperor.
Converting to Christianity, Constantine ceased Christian persecution and proclaimed religious tolerance through the Edict of Milan. What followed was both the Christianisation of the Roman Empire and the ‘Romanisation’ of the Church. Constantine then brought his mother Helena to court, appointing her Dowager Augusta [Empress]. What follows is the story behind the feast day of 14 September.
According to the historian, Bishop Eusebius of Caesarea [writing in c.260–340 CE], in her late 70s (in 326–28 CE), Helena undertook a pilgrimage to the eastern provinces. Constantine supported her with ‘an open cheque’ as it were from the Imperial Treasury to help her locate and honour significant relics of Christianity. Amidst mystical dreams and miracles, it seems, on 3 May 326 CE Helena is said to have located the Cross of Jesus from under a demolished Roman Temple. The feast of the Exaltation and Triumph of the Cross celebrating this recovery was established on 14 September 334 CE, to mark the completion of the cathedral built to honour it. Helena was responsible also for the construction of Churches in Bethlehem and on the Mount of Olives, sites of Christ’s birth and ascension. It is also claimed by some that Helena found the nails of the crucifixion and that she had one nail placed in Constantine’s helmet, and another in the bridle of his horse.
Within the scope of her pilgrimage, Helena visited Cyprus. Some today might say she is another “cat-lady” because legend has it that, in a very dry season, she imported hundreds of cats from Egypt to rid a particular monastery of hundreds of snakes. The monastery, located near Limassol, is known today as St. Nicholas of the Cats. Some hold the Saint responsible for an oversupply of Cypriot cats!
But the meaning of the Cross runs deeper than any of these things, and it is here we can view the feast of 14 September under a slightly different name. Unofficially we can change one letter ‘u’ for the letter ‘a’ and joyfully honour our continuing ‘Exultation’ of the Cross.
The Cross is, of course, a sign of suffering, of human cruelty at its worst, as well as human bravery and self-sacrifice taxed to the utmost. Through Christ’s loving life, taken in the Roman execution of crucifixion, the Cross has become for centuries a sign of hope and consolation, a sign of triumph over evil, the sign of God’s presence with us through Jesus in the painful experiences of life. It thus became the quintessential sign of Christian identity. Many of us sign ourselves confidently and with trust with this cross daily. We use it multiple times in Christian liturgies of Eucharist and the other Sacraments. Some want to hold a cross as we die. Furthermore, for about two millennia we have decorated Christian buildings liberally with Crosses.
On most Saturdays of any month, I work as a pastoral support volunteer in one such building, the Mary MacKillop Memorial Chapel in North Sydney. Here I sit beside pilgrims who come in to pray reverently and silently for extended periods of time in both the main body of the chapel and the area around the tomb of St Mary of the Cross MacKillop. I notice that nearly all of them genuflect and sign themselves with the Cross. Some just touch their forehead, chest and shoulders, whilst others also touch their lips to conclude the ritual. When children accompany adults, it is frequent that I see them being encouraged in making the sign of the Cross and genuflecting. I am left in little doubt that we exult in the Cross which Helena, Constantine and all in Christendom who followed have exalted and triumphed over.
To take a quick amble round the chapel, one Saturday recently I decided to count the signs of the Cross. In every imaginable place around the altars, marking the furniture, in the stained-glass windows and Stations of the Cross and around the walls, I counted 99 crosses. I am seeking one more, and I’m confident I’ll score at least a century.
And finally, in these ‘down under’ countries whose peoples share the Pacific and its skies, we rejoice in the Southern Cross at nighttime. For at least some of us they are graced reminders of our identity in Jesus.
Virginia M. Bourke rsj