Readings: Numbers 21:4b-9; Psalm 98:1-6; 1 Corinthians 1:18-24; John 3:13-17 

Today we celebrate Holy Cross Day.  It calls us to convey in some way the truth of the cross, the symbol that is at the heart of our faith.  It is a sacred symbol that we look on with a sense of reverence and awe.  We make the sign of the cross.  We wear crosses as a recognition of our faith.  We use the symbol to decorate our churches.  Through the ages the event of the cross has been depicted through the language of symbol, through story, through music, through art.  Such images have presented varied and often idealized images of the cross.  What is the truth behind the symbol?  What does it mean in our lives?   

While I was on holidays an acquaintance questioned why I was wearing a cross.  I was somewhat taken aback by the question, since this was a person who confesses the Christian faith and knows that I am a priest.  I gave her a quizzical look; I didn’t answer right away.  I needed to ask myself what was behind her question.  Was it something about the particular cross I was wearing?  Was it because I was on holidays?  Was it what it represented?  Finding myself still wondering, I finally asked her and was confronted with a barrage of hurt, anger and frustration.  It became abundantly clear to me that for her the image of the cross was not merely foolish, but abhorrent. 

It is a very strange symbol to have at the heart of our faith.  But then it is more than a symbol.  The cross is an event.  Events need to be experienced.  The people of Jesus’ time had experienced the reality of the roman manner of execution.  They understood its horror.  They knew of its brutality.  They related with complete empathy to the death of Jesus.  

We on the other hand, cannot know in the same way.  At best we turn it into a theological statement.  The problem with that is that it takes away from the event.  How are we to convey in a meaningful way, the kind of suffering that Jesus undertook on our behalf?  How are we to convey the meaning of the cross in our own lives?  We say that we will "bear the cross".  But we have no concept of what that means.  We need to experience it as God’s answer to the human condition. 

That is the foolishness of the cross that Paul was speaking about.  “For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing.”  While the people of Jesus’ time  understood its horror; they didn’t understand its connection to God.  The Jews were looking for the saving action of God that would occur through the sending of the Messiah.  They were looking for signs, but not the sign of the cross.  They could never even consider that God’s promised agent could be put to death. 

The Greeks were seeking pure knowledge.  A suffering god would be impossible for them as well.   

I think of the images of cross which have been meaningful to me at different times of my life.  The first is from my childhood.  In our home was a crucifix, perhaps five feet high from Oberamergau, beautifully carved.  I must have spent much time looking at the figure on the cross, because I remember it vividly.  It was a very human form, with an Aramaic face, graphically portrayed.  To stand beneath it and look up at it when I was so small, and it was so large, was overwhelming.  I remember the look of anguish on the face, the crown of thorns, the taut and rigid body. 

Such depictions of the cross are not unusual.  They provide us with a strong sense of the humanity of Jesus.  Such a portrayal illuminates the words of the prophet Isaiah speaking of the suffering servant.  "He was wounded for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the punishment that made us whole, and by his bruises we are healed." 

Compare that to the Christus Rex, the reigning Christ, which dominated the sanctuary of a very modern church to which I once belonged.  It presented a startlingly different image of Christ crucified.  The figure seemed almost suspended in mid air.  Christ was not so much hanging on the cross as lifted from it.  A much gentler figure, Jesus was dressed in chasuble and wearing a golden crown.  The muted shades had an aesthetic beauty but there was nothing of the human in its impact.  The effect was ethereal rather than graphic.  Such a portrayal is closer to the image the writer of Hebrews conveys.  Christ the Great High Priest, a human offering of perfect obedience to God's will.  Through Christ, God does for us what we cannot do for ourselves.  God offers the perfect sacrifice on our behalf. 

Somehow I think our image of cross needs to do more than either of those images can do.  It needs to help us radically to experience the event of the cross.  It needs to help us to understand that it is God’s answer to us.  The cross allows God to participate in the human condition.  It allows God to suffer with us.  To experience what we as humans experience.  It brings God into solidarity with God's own creation.  How important for us who have lost touch with the experience to participate in the event! 

There is a story that expresses that experience to me.  A Japanese writer, Shusaku Endo, in his novel “Silence” opens up in a wonderful way the mystery of God's participatory act of solidarity with human suffering.  His work is a protest against the triumphalism of the message of the Jesuit missionaries who brought their form of Christianity to Japan in the sixteenth Century.  It is about a young Portuguese Jesuit priest, Rodriguez.  He has a genuine devotion to Christ.  He spends hours in prayer and meditation, contemplating, imitating Christ, convicted of his need to be willing to suffer, even to die for Christ's sake. 

During an uprising against the Christians, Rodriguez finds himself in great difficulty.  He is taken prisoner and is asked to renounce his faith.  He refuses, hoping to emulate Christ, hoping even for martyrdom which he believes will bring him into the very presence of God.  Instead of martyrdom, he is imprisoned.  From his cell, he hears the cries of Japanese Christians who have already recanted their faith, but who are still being tortured.  Rodriguez is told, until he renounces his faith, they will continue to be tortured.  It horrifies him.  His captors ask him once more to apostatize.  They offer him a crucifix.  All he need do is to trample on the image of Christ on the cross, merely to grind it with his toe. 

The image that is presented to him does not resemble in any way the face that he has come to adore and emulate.  It has been stepped on so many times that it resembles his own haggard appearance.  Still he cannot bring himself to step on it.  Then he hears the voice of Christ speaking to him: "Trample, it is for this that I have come." 

Suddenly he understands the message of the cross.  “God so loved the world …” His image of Christ is transformed.  He experiences the event in a whole new way.  He tramples on the crucifix.  In experiencing the event, he is enabled to alleviate the sufferings of others.

Somehow, our view of the cross needs to enable us to participate in the event, to understand God's participation in our human condition.  The cross allowed Jesus to suffer with humanity.  It allowed God access to our human condition.  The cross was a sign of humiliation, pain and suffering; a sign of failure.  But to the Christian it is a transforming experience that allows us to see ourselves in God.

There is one further image of cross that I would like to leave with you.  It hangs in All Souls' church where I was organist for many years.  It is a large, rough wooden cross.  The figure of Jesus is made from broken pieces of mirror.  Roughly cut, they are placed much as one would place the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.  It has caused more than the usual amount of disagreement over whether or not it is art.  It seems that people either like it immensely, or find it deeply disturbing.  I find it a powerful symbol as I see my own image reflected in the brokenness of Christ.  It reminds me that Christ suffered with me.  It reminds me that God's power is able to transform even the most terrible suffering.  It reminds me powerfully, that God is with us.  In that encounter with the crucified God I learn that the sharing of suffering is the beginning of its transformation to wholeness and joy.  Salvation truly is a gift.