Sunday, September 14 is
the Feast of the Holy Cross. On this particular Sunday we at Faith Lutheran of
Philadelphia will welcome a baby girl (child of one of my former Confirmands)
into the church family through the sacrament of Holy Baptism. We’re also going
to give Church blessing to a couple previously married in a civil ceremony. I’m
trying to keep these two events in mind as I share my reflections on this
centuries-old feast day.
“And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the
wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him
may have eternal life. For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so
that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. “Indeed, God did not send the Son into the
world to condemn the world but in order that the world might be saved through
him.” (John
3:14-17)
The
Feast of the Holy Cross is one of those wacky little commemorates we only
celebrate every once in a while, when September 14 happens to fall on a Sunday.
It’s not one of your major Christian holidays, and I’d be willing to bet nine
out of ten Christians in the US couldn’t tell you when it’s celebrated or why.
Fortunately, you have your Old Religious Guy to enlighten you on this bit of
ecclesiastic arcanum.
The
Feast of the Holy Cross commemorates the dedication of a basilica built in
Jerusalem by the Roman emperor Constantine in 335 CE. The story goes that Constantine’s
mom, Helena, wanted to plant a church on the site where Jesus was crucified.
When the builders dug around to lay the foundation—or so the story goes—they unearthed
the cross on which the Lord died (or at least a few pieces of it. If you figure
the wood would’ve been over 300 years old by that time and not in the best of
shape!). Supposedly some marauding Persians stole this relic a few hundred
years later.
It's
natural (don’t you think?) to look with a certain amount of skepticism at this “cross
discovery” story. It might also be a good idea to look with a somewhat more
critical eye at the story of how the pagan Constantine became a Christian (He
supposedly saw a vison of a cross in the heavens before a battle which allowed
him to be victorious) and recognize that we have some good news and some bad
news here.
The
good news is that the Roman emperor not only made Christianity a legal religion
but also popularized it and later made it the official religion of the
empire. Pretty good news when you consider the empire which executed Jesus eventually
came to love and embrace him. The bad news is that Christians went from being a
persecuted minority to being a powerful majority who could gleefully go and
persecute others. You know: launch crusades against Isalm, burn heretics at the
stake, take land from indigenous peoples, declare pogroms against Jews—you get
the idea. It was all under the shadow of the victorious cross.
Today
we make crosses out of gold and wear them as jewelry. Rappers sport enormous
jewel-encrusted crosses. Government officials proudly wear cross necklaces or cross
lapel pins which are sometime overlayed by the American flag. We’ve seen the
cross used a symbol of wealth and some Americans want to see it as a symbol of
triumph.
I
think they’re missing the point. The cross was never a symbol of triumph. It
was a symbol of shame.
Peter
Abelard, the 12th century French scholastic theologian and philosopher,
believed in seeing the cross in all it’s ugliness. Think about it: executing a
human being by impaling his body on a piece of wood and leaving him to drown in
his own bodily fluids is as sick and depraved a thing to do as one could
possibly imagine. Just think of what it would mean to be crucified. To imagine
this kind of death should fill us all with horror. But this is the death Jesus
willingly accepted. He chose to enter into all of our pain, hatred,
abandonment, and shame. Looking to the cross must remind us of both our ability
to inflict harm—weather by crucifying the natural world, our thoughtless words
and deed, or our indifference to the suffering of others—and the vastness of
God’s willingness to forgive and accept us.
When
little Ryleigh is baptized, I will christen her with oil and tell her she’s
marked with the cross of Christ forever. I hope this sign of the cross will be
the sign which guides the rest of her life. She’s an adorable little baby now
but just wait until she’s a teenager! I’ll bet every parent feels the contradiction
of desperately loving someone who makes you totally nuts. That’s the contradiction
of the cross—the sign of our wanton disobedience and God’s unconditional love.
All
who worship with us on Holy Cross Day will start by coming to the baptismal
font with little Ryleigh to make our confession and hear the words of
absolution. In baptism we embrace both aspects of the cross: our sin and God’s
love. I would remind Pete and Angie as they renew their wedding vows today that
a marriage—if it is to survive—must also contain the aspects of confession and absolution,
contrition and forgiveness.
The
cross is not a spear or a battle axe used to defeat enemies or impose our will
on others. It’s a strong piece of driftwood in the ocean of this chaotic world
which we grab for dear life. It’s how we survive the waves of confusion and
doubt swirling around us. It’s how we truly know ourselves and come to know how
God knows us. It’s our vessel for compassion for ourselves and for everyone
else.
Cling
to the cross, my friend, and come see me again, won’t you?
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