Sort of already venerated the cross this Lent, at the diocesan evangelization training four Saturdays ago.

When I was employed, I would walk a mile or two on Good Friday to St. Catherine's in Holmdel for their 3 o'clock service. I grew up thinking that everyone walked weekly to church. And I did so myself until I graduated from college.

But, even at St. Catherine's, I didn't venerate the cross. I listened to the reading of the Passion, from John's Gospel. And I said the prayers. And I sang the hymns. And I watched others walk forward, bend and kiss the crucifix. I was mildly scandalized. I worried especially about the children. I heard their mothers chastise them when they complained, "Well, when I was a girl, we crawled up there on our knees!" I didn't want my participation to contribute to the scandization of anyone else. So I stayed seated and left at the end as quickly as possible. Every year.

So, a month ago, when we set up to venerate the cross, I decided it was ok for me to participate because everyone in attendance possessed a relatively mature faith. I didn't expect anyone to be scandalized (Romans 14). But everyone hesitated and I thought that no one was familiar with the practice! Fortunately, a sister in our midst made the first move and everyone figured out that it's just like a communion line and it went smoothly after the initial startup.

But my kiss, offered elaborately, was planted firmly on the feet with a smack, not unlike the smooches I give my kids. It was embarrassing ... but it is the way that I deliver passionate kisses.