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Less than 10 minutes later, I arrived at the chapel. I couldn’t believe the crowd. Cars filled the parking lot and buses lined the road. Over a hundred tourists milled about on the ramp, in the courtyard, in the chapel, and in the gift shop. I’d never seen so many people at the chapel.
The exterior of the Chapel of the Holy Cross hadn’t changed over the last 40 years. The structure had weathered the elements and the altitude. The spiritual nature of the site, on the other hand, had changed dramatically.
Inside the chapel, I was shocked by the absence of the Christus. It felt empty and cold. I knew the figure wouldn’t be there. I thought I’d prepared myself.
Seeing the bare, sterile cross, framed against the stunning backdrop of the red sandstone buttes, made me angry. As beautiful as
