Psalm 119:9-16

The Problem of the Cross

Lent anticipates the cross. Lent is the prelude to the main anthem, the mood setter for the drama to come. Waiting around the corner, begging for the bright lights of Easter, stands the cross. As we reflect on Lent, it is hard to dismiss the cross. But what cross?

The cross as symbol? The cross as personal reality? The cross as a grim, functional instrument of a repressive state? I find the cross to be a disquieting and problematic window into Christianity. It is the ultimate Divine Rorschach Test. It becomes what we project it to be.

Crucifix, cruciform? Simple X-ed bar, or multiple bars, or X-es within X-es? Two horizontal beams, or three, or four? Slanted slats, or squared up ones? Occupied or deserted? Elaborations that tell of centuries of projection and fear and bitter conflict.

Focus on the pieta of a mother’s pain. No, focus on the brutal agony and gore of the wretched victim. No, focus on the emptiness. No, focus on the nefarious history of a brutal mechanism dedicated to subjugation. Always remember that the cross was used to punish. No, it was used to humiliate. No, it was used to liberate.

Social icon or fashion statement? Separator of Christians from Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Others. Distinguisher of people, of Kardashians versus Dali Lamas and bin Ladens. Wear it on our plunging necklines, pierced ears, tattooed biceps. Show the world that we are unique–like all of our clan. Arrayed on grassy fields in geometric rows to signal the graves of Us. We Are Not They.

Healing image, hopeful future? Gently placed on crinkled foreheads on disheveled deathbeds. Kissed for good luck; bon voyage into the next world where crosses reign triumphant. Human frailty, Divine redemption. Sin and selfishness and salvation. The human condition aspiring after higher things through the cross and grave and empty tomb. It all begins with the cross.

Such a simple structure on which to hang so much ambivalence. The cross bears all things, hopes all things, believes all things. It lives in the hearts of millions, billions; spreading good, spreading evil. Such a simple structure; such a world of burden to bear. During Lent we anticipate the cross. But what cross?

—Don Luidens

Psalm 22:23-26

 From Despair to Praise and Gratitude

Psalm 22 begins with the words “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” These words recur in Mark’s and Matthew’s accounts of the crucifixion of Jesus (Mark 15:34 and Matthew 27:46). Some of those hearing Jesus’ words “My God, My God,” or “Eloi, Eloi” in their original language, thought Jesus was calling upon Elijah. Others more familiar with the Psalms would have recalled the opening words of this psalm, which in verse 18 alludes to evildoers casting lots for the psalmist’s clothing, another parallel to the experience of Jesus.

The psalmist in today’s reading and Jesus by his crucifixion and resurrection together tell us that our laments, our dark nights of the soul—and we all experience these in one way or another—are not the last words. In verses 23-26 the psalmist speaking to a congregation, family, community—and to us—says that God did not forsake him but heard his cry and brought him through the difficult time. He urges them and us to respond in praise, glory, and awe. In gratitude, he pays vows, perhaps alms that help to ensure that the “poor shall eat and be satisfied.”

Prayer: Listening and responsive God, we are grateful that You do not forsake us—as You did not forsake the psalmist or your Son on the cross—and we are grateful that your Holy Spirit is with us to help us through despairing times. Help us to express our gratitude in ways that prevent our neighbors near and far from feeling forsaken.

                                                                                                 —Judy Parr