Cristo Negro

In a side chapel of the Metropolitan Cathedral in Mexico City hangs an extraordinary image of the crucified Christ. Against the glittering backdrop of an ornately gilded altar, this Crucifix stands out in striking contrast, for the figure of Jesus is completely black. As we walk the way of the cross this Paschal Triduum, I want to share with you the legends associated with this “Cristo Negro,” which is known as Nuestro Señor del Veneno or “Our Lord of Venom.”

The legends say that when first created in the 1600s, the figure of Jesus was actually white. According to one of the stories, there was once a priest who heard the confession of thief and murderer, and withheld absolution from the man until he fully confessed to his crimes. Worried that the priest would turn him in, the man plotted a way to kill his confessor. Noticing the priest’s habit of kissing the feet of the Crucifix every day before beginning Mass, the would-be assassin applied a poison to the feet of Christ. The next day, when the priest arrived and knelt to kiss Christ’s feet, the figure absorbed the poison, turning black in the process.

The second story is similar, and involves two business rivals: Don Fermin and Don Ismael. Don Ismael, in a fit of jealousy, decided to kill Don Fermin. He found a slow acting poison and sneaked it into his rival’s food. After unknowingly consuming the poison, Don Fermin headed to the church, as was his daily custom. When he knelt to kiss Christ’s feet, the figure drew the poison from his lips and in doing was transformed in color.

Millions pray at Nuestro Señor del Veneno every year, and our pilgrim group visited the Cathedral in February. I can’t say whether or not this image of Christ has miraculous powers, but I do know that the legends reveal the heart of our faith. In his Passion, Christ absorbs the poisons of sin and evil. He willingly drinks from a cup of venom poured by human beings, past, present, and yet to come. Out of love he accepts it, sacrificing himself so that we may be spared its deadliness. By his wounds, as Isaiah prophesied, we are healed.

But as I pray with Nuestro Señor del Veneno, I cannot help but remember the teaching of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who contrasts “cheap grace” from “costly grace.”

“Cheap grace is the mortal enemy of our church. Our struggle today is for costly grace. Cheap grace means grace as bargain-basement goods, cut-rate forgiveness, cut-rate comfort, cut-rate sacrament…It is grace without a price, without costs. Cheap grace is preaching forgiveness without repentance; it is baptism without the discipline of community; it is the Lord’s Supper without confession of sin; it is absolution without personal confession. Cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross.

Costly grace is the gospel which must be sought again and again, the gift which has to be asked for, the door at which one must knock. It is costly because it costs people their lives; it is grace, because it thereby makes them live. It is costly, because it condemns sin; it is grace because it justifies the sinner. Above all, it is grace because the life of God’s Son was not too costly for God to give in order to make us live.”

Our Lord absorbed all the poisons of sin, sparing us from the deadly consequences. That is what we celebrate every Paschal Triduum, and why Christians believe the Passion of our Lord is the climax of history. We have hope for eternal life in the presence of God, because the stain on our souls has been lifted by the saving power of Christ’s death and resurrection.

So as we celebrate our passage through the grave, as we rejoice that the poison meant for us has been absorbed by another, let us remember the costliness of grace. And never forget that God sees you as worth the price. You are worth the suffering. You are worth the pain of the poison.

May Christ’s beautiful blackness remind you of what he did for love of you, and inspire you to comprehend the costliness of his grace.