REFLECTION:

Sometimes when I read this passage, it reminds me of experiences I’ve had in Catholic parishes—even here at Sacred Heart.

When I was serving on Maui, we removed a crucifix that had been placed at the back of the church facing the altar. The crucifix itself wasn’t the best quality, but more importantly, from a liturgical perspective it was unnecessary. The Church’s guidelines indicate that there should be one crucifix clearly visible in the sanctuary, highlighting the power and focus of that single symbol. Having multiple crucifixes in different places can actually weaken the visual focus of the liturgy.

Of course, as you might expect, someone who had donated that crucifix was upset. She asked for it back, so we returned it to her.

Then I came to Sacred Heart. When I arrived, there were three crucifixes in the sanctuary area. Following the same liturgical principles, I removed the extras and left one. The intention was simple: the Church’s tradition places power in one clear symbol that directs our attention to Christ’s sacrifice made present in the Mass.

But again, there were complaints. Some people believed that the more crucifixes we had, the stronger the symbol would be. One parishioner in particular would remind me every time she saw me at Mass: “Father, where’s that crucifix?”

I would gently answer, “It’s there in the stained-glass window.” But that answer never satisfied her. She wanted the other crucifix back.

Over time it became a bit of a nuisance, because we had just celebrated the Eucharist—the greatest mystery of our faith—and yet her attention was fixed on the symbol that wasn’t there. Christ had just become truly present on the altar under the appearances of bread and wine—His Body and Blood. Yet for her, and perhaps for others, something still felt incomplete because that particular crucifix was missing.

In many ways, this reminds me of what happened in today’s passage from Numbers. God gave the Israelites the bronze serpent as a sign through which He would heal them. It was never meant to be the focus itself—it was meant to lead them to trust in God.

But centuries later, the people began burning incense to that very object as if it had power in itself. During the reforms of Hezekiah, the bronze serpent had to be destroyed because it had become an idol rather than a sign pointing to God (2 Kings 18:4).

The lesson is subtle but important. Symbols matter in our faith. Crucifixes, statues, icons, and sacred images help direct our hearts to God. But when we become more attached to the object itself than to the reality it points to, we can miss the deeper mystery.

The crucifix points us to Christ. But in the Eucharist, Christ is actually present. The symbol points to the reality—but the reality is greater.

Perhaps the invitation in this passage is to ask ourselves: Are we focused on the signs, or are we truly seeing the God to whom those signs point?



Like the Israelites who looked at the bronze serpent and were healed, we too are invited to lift our eyes—not merely to symbols—but to the living Christ who is truly present among us.