How do you react when someone starts to talk about dying? Usually we get uncomfortable. "Don't talk about that now - that's a long way off," we say.
When Jesus said that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, be rejected, and be killed, Peter took him aside and rebuked him. Peter didn't want to talk about it.
But Jesus wanted to talk about it. He turned and faced the disciples. By this body language Jesus rebuked Peter. In our worship planning meeting Greg Cochran astutely observed that Peter was already behind Jesus when he said, "Get behind me, Satan!"
The next move by Jesus was even more pointed. With his back still toward Peter, Jesus called the crowd to join the disciples, and began to talk about taking up the cross.
This talk of the cross should not surprise us. If someone were to speak of an officially sanctioned violent death in those times, it would be death on a cross.
What is surprising is that Jesus should teach that to be one of his followers a person has to be ready to take up the cross and follow him, a summons which is puzzling at best and abhorrent at worst.
I identify with Peter here. I feel like him, distanced somewhat by what is taking place, standing in the background, looking over Jesus' shoulder, listening to him say words I neither like nor understand, staring at the faces of people who don't really have any idea what's at stake.
"The cross!? What about it?"
The matter is basic - what about that cross? What's it all about? How can anyone make sense of the cross?
THE PERENNIAL QUESTION
A group of college students were studying late for an exam. First we had gone out for pizza; now well after midnight we were settling down in the philosophy seminar library to prepare. A friend name Tony burst into the room, not to study but to ask with passionate intensity how a man dying 2,000 years ago on a Roman cross could possibly make any difference in his life. Would we please explain it to him?
"Go to blazes (a paraphrase), Tony; we have to study."
"But if I don't get this right," he countered, "I may do just that - go to hell."
Someone said that you don't end up in hell over "head stuff" like his question. "Forget it and get to work."
"No," he said, "I have to get the cross straight in my head and in my heart and in my life. And I'm starting with my mind."
Tony had grown up in the church, sang all the songs about the cross, and had started out to be a minister. But what about the cross?
"And don't try to put me off by quoting those verses about the cross being foolishness to those who are perishing (I Corinthians 1: 18)." And then he said something I will always remember. It was a demand, a challenge and a plea all at one time. "Someone ought to be able to make sense of the cross," he said.
A CRASH COURSE IN THEOLOGY
Part of what my friend was asking for was a crash course in the theology of the cross. So here comes one! Please understand - what follows will be first of all "head stuff," but not an intellectual exercise as an end in itself. After the thinking we will do some feeling to help us get our heads, our hearts and our lives centered on the cross for Lent, for Holy Week, for Easter, and beyond.
There are many summaries of the understanding of the cross. The British New Testament scholar Vincent Taylor once wrote a book in which he identified fourteen such ideas (The Atonement in the New Testament [London: The Epworth Press] 1940). Don't worry! I will be following the work of others who see just three main understandings of the cross.
I will be drawing on a book by Markus J. Borg, Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time, and his summary of a classic work by a Swedish theologian named Gustaf Aulen. This Lutheran thinker offers a clear but not oversimplified explanation of the main ideas on the death and resurrection of Jesus. He surveyed the Bible and centuries of Christian thought and identified three main points of view. As we walk through these theories, we need to remember that no one perspective can completely do justice to the cross. Each has its strengths and weaknesses, elements which attract some and put off others. (Markus J. Borg, Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time [HarperSanFranciso] 1994, pp. 128-129)
A. Christ Victorious
Aulen holds that the oldest of the three understandings of the cross is what he calls Christus Victor, a Latin phrase meaning "Christ Victorious."
God has in Jesus the Christ triumphed over "the powers" that hold humans in bondage - sin, death, the devil and evil (Romans 8: 2, 35ff.). As in the Exodus story in the Hebrew scriptures, the human predicament is seen as bondage. God's work is liberation. He sets us free from the power of sin and death, the devil and evil and Hell.
And so we sing on Easter...
"Christ the Lord is ris'n today...
Raise your joys and triumphs high...
Where, O Death, is now thy sting?
Where thy victory, O Grave?"
(Charles Wesley, Baptist Hymnal, edited by Wesley L. Forbis [Nashville: Convention Press] 1991, No. 159)
"Crown him the Lord of life, Who triumphed o'er the grave,
And rose victorious in the strife For those He came to save..."
("Crown Him with Many Crowns, Matthew Bridges, Baptist Hymnal, op. cit., No. 161)
"The strife is o'er, the battle done;
The victory of life is won;
The song of triumph has begun: Alleluia!"
(Latin hymn, translated by Francis Pott, "The Strife is O'er," Baptist Hymnal, op. cit., No. 172)
B. Substitutionary Sacrifice
The second understanding of the death and resurrection of Jesus is known as the "substitutionary" theory. Sometimes it is called the "objective" theory because it holds that something objective changes in the relationship between God and us because of the sacrificial death of Jesus.
We are to picture the death of Jesus as a sacrifice for sin that makes God's forgiveness possible. Although there is much sacrificial language all through the New Testament, this image did not become dominant in the Church until the early Middle Ages, according to Aulen's study. Anselm, the archbishop of Canterbury, first systematically developed these ideas in a work called Cur Deus Homo, "Why the God Man?," in 1097. When people say, "Jesus died for our sins," they are seeing the cross through the lens of the Jewish sacrificial system as understood by a medieval, priestly mind. This popular view resonates with a much loved verse, "For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son...." (John 3: 16)
Evangelical Protestants enthusiastically embraced this view in 19th and 20th century gospel songs:
"'twas on that old cross Jesus suffered and died, To pardon and sanctify me."
(George Bennard, "The Old Rugged Cross," Baptist Hymnal, op. cit., No. 141)
"Jesus paid it all, All to Him I owe; Sin has left a crimson stain, He washed it white as snow." (Elvina M. Hall, "Jesus Paid It All," Baptist Hymnal, op. cit., No. 134)
"What can wash away my sin? Nothing but the blood of Jesus...Nothing can for sin atone, Nothing but the blood of Jesus. Naught of good that I have done, Nothing but the blood of Jesus." (Robert Lowry, "Nothing But the Blood of Jesus," Baptist Hymnal, op. cit., No. 135)
The good thing about this view is that its message is simple and direct. We are accepted, just as we are, without one plea. Our sin and guilt need not stand between us and God.
The limitations of this view are serious. It calls for a knowledge of Jewish ritual sacrifices which have not been performed for almost 2,000 years. It requires the ability to understand transference of sin from people to dead animals or, in the case of Jesus, a dead Son of God, to change God's attitude toward humans.
Another drawback: the substitutionary theory does not necessarily make for passive Christians, but it can. We are accepted but we may not grow. Each Sunday we get absolved by the priest in a liturgical service, or in an evangelical setting we "get saved" all over again. In the former case we need to experience confession and absolution over and over; in the latter case we need to have a spring and fall revival with people rededicating their lives over and over until one day we arrive in heaven.
C. Moral Influence
The third theory is called the "moral influence" or "subjective" theory. The emphasis is not so much on Jesus accomplishing something which objectively changes the relationship between God and us, as upon Jesus disclosing by his death something which subjectively changes the believer. This view is associated with the late medieval theologian-philosopher, Peter Abailard.
When he wasn't thinking about his beautiful student, Heloise, Peter Abailard was thinking about theology. He did not like the second view of the cross. He did not like the idea that God had to do business with Satan or the notion that the death of Jesus was necessary to change the heart of God. God does not need changing, Abailard argued. How dare we say that there is something wrong with God? There is nothing wrong with God. Humans need changing. And as we contemplate the cross, a transforming flame is kindled in us, an awakening to new springs of activity, a change in our fundamental direction and disposition. (John David Maguire, The Dance of the Pilgrim [New York: Association Press] 1967, pp. 75-77)
When we survey the wondrous cross, how can we look away unchanged? "Is it nothing to you, all you who pass by? Behold and see if there is any sorrow like my sorrow..." words from Lamentation 1: 12 which some Christians have reapplied to Jesus on the cross and his impact on those who pause to reflect.
When we look at Jesus on the cross, we see that God is love. His love is "so amazing, so divine, that it demands" our souls, our lives, our all. (Isaac Watts, "When I Survey the Wondrous Cross," Baptist Hymnal, op. cit., No. 144) In "the old rugged cross" "such a wonderful beauty I see" for it "has a wondrous attraction to me." ("The Old Rugged Cross, op. cit.) We also see that God is light, beckoning us home from the darkness of exile. The strength of this view is that the death of Jesus can have a wondrous attraction, a wonderful beauty. The death of Jesus may indeed reveal a love so amazing, so divine, that it demands our souls, our lives, our all. The weakness of this view is the sad reality that for many the cross evokes no such response. It is nothing to many who pass by, unresponsive and indifferent.
Many hymns speak of the moral influence of the cross:
"What language shall I borrow To thank Thee, dearest friend...?
O make me Thine forever, And should I fainting be,
Lord, let me never, never Outlive my love for thee." (Paul Gerhardt, based on a Medieval Latin poem, "O Sacred Head, Now Wounded," Baptist Hymnal, op. cit., No. 137)
"But drops of grief can ne'er repay The debt of love I owe;
Here, Lord, I give myself away, 'Tis all that I can do.
At the cross, at the cross where I first saw the light,
And the burden of my heart rolled away,
It was there by faith I received my sight,
And now I am happy all the day!"
(Isaac Watts, "At the Cross," refrain by Ralph E. Hudson, Baptist Hymnal, op. cit., No. 139)
FROM HEAD TO HEART AND INTO LIFE
I want to close by telling you two stories from the world of art - one about a great museum and the other about a great collector. The purpose of these stories is to suggest how we can move from thinking about the cross to feeling the meaning of the cross in our lives. I will tell you the two stories and then give us some quiet time to begin to process the meaning of the cross.
A. The Hermitage
In 1941 as Hitler's forces moved relentlessly toward the city we again call St. Petersburg, the staff of one of the world's greatest art museums, the Hermitage, worked around the clock to protect the paintings and sculptures. In ten days the staff packed nearly two million objects. On July 1, the director of the museum stood weeping at the railroad station as three trains, loaded with the treasures of the Hermitage, prepared to leave for the Russian heartland. Not even the conductors knew their final secret destination.
The third train never left; Hitler's forces had closed the circle around the city. 2 1/2 million people were trapped during the siege. The museum staff kept the palatial building opened during the siege. Only minor works were on display, but the building itself was a work of art. Perhaps it would encourage the people to see the building, to recall what once hung in the empty frames, and to hope that one day they would be back in their places. The staff and their families lived in the basement, 2,000 people seeking refuge from German bombs. As provisions ran low, they made a jelly like food from vats of joiners glue intended for making picture frames.
The picture frames were hanging empty on the walls, their canvasses rolled up and packed onto those trains. Then even the Heritage building became at risk. The explosion of bombs shattered the glass; heavy snows fell onto the exquisite parquet floors. The museum staff enlisted Russian soldiers to shovel up the mixture of snow and glass, take it out bucket by bucket, and install new windows to protect the Hermitage.
There was no material way to thank the soldiers. But a guide named Pavel Dubchevski offered to give the soldiers the most amazing museum tour ever offered. He led them through the cavernous halls where only empty picture frames were hanging, pausing where once masterpieces had hung to tell the soldiers what they were missing. The soldiers later said that Dubchevski's descriptions were so vivid and so powerful that they felt they could see Rembrandt's Prodigal Son and DaVinci's Madonna.
Something like the experience of those soldiers can happen to you now. In the suffering and deprivation of our lives when we long for love of Jesus the crucified, all too often we have only the empty picture frames of songs like The Old Rugged Cross. What our music, art, poetry and theology lack must be supplied by the Holy Spirit, the Comforter, whom the Father sends in Jesus' name to teach us and bring to our remembrance all that he has said and done. (John 14: 26)
In a moment we will have a quiet time to give the Holy Spirit an opportunity to take us beyond our empty picture frames and inadequate texts to whatever vivid and powerful perception of the cross the Holy Spirit can bring to our heads and hearts.
B. San Simeon
In his generation William Randolph Hearst was as dominant a media figure as Ted Turner is today. Hearst was the inspiration for the powerful film Citizen Kane. In the years between World War I and the Depression Hearst collected art treasures from all over the world, the best that money could buy, to install in his palatial California home at San Simeon.
Hearst became aware of a collection of splendid works of art, objects of such quality and beauty that he had to have them for his own. He instructed his agents to find these treasures and acquire them for him. They set to work, eager to please their employer, happy to spend someone else's money, and passionate to see for themselves the wonderful works of great art.
Hearst grew impatient as the staff failed to locate and purchase the objects of his desire. Finally the staff had to go back and tell Hearst what he did and did not want to hear. "Mr. Hearst, we were unable to buy the paintings and sculptures because you already own them." He possessed the treasured objects but had forgotten what was there all along! His restless, acquisitive mind had failed to appreciate what was there all the time.
So it is with the cross and all that it means for our heads, our hearts and our lives. The cross is there, waiting for us to take the time to survey its wonders, wonders so great that next to it "our richest gain counts but loss." The cross has been there all along, but we have not paid attention with our heads and our hearts. "Love so amazing, so divine, Demands my soul, my life, my all."
In a few minutes we are going to sing the hymn, When I Survey the Wondrous Cross, but first we are going to survey the cross literally to give the Holy Spirit a chance to be our guide par excellence. I want us to have a quiet time to think and feel our way to the cross.
In silence I want us to survey the two crosses before us:
(1) the lovely polished cross which is the visual focal point of this room each week, the cross which hangs above whatever we say or sing in worship, a cross which was not here originally but which was fashioned by the skillful and loving hands of the late Bernard Lampe at the request of a wonderful young woman named Miriam Price Burch, a lovely person in every way, a fine violinist, a good wife, mother and friend, a radiant Christian who died much too soon, like John Duvall whom we remember especially today.
(2) In silence I want us also to survey the cross on the table before us, a cross suggested in worship planning by Maryan Brown, and made by June Heintz. Maryan and Sharon Brown Banks arranged the fabric to set it apart from the lustrous wood of the table below it and the pulpit behind it, for it is a "rugged cross."
We have much to think about, much to feel as we consider a finished cross of great beauty and a rugged cross of great passion.
I hope you will see what a woman once wrote of seeing:
"Upon that cross of Jesus Mine eye at times can see
The very dying form of One Who suffered there for me;
And from my smitten heart with tears Two wonders I confess,
The wonders of His glorious love And my unworthiness."
(Elizabeth C. Clephane, "Beneath the Cross of Jesus," Baptist Hymnal, op., cit., No, 291)
Join another woman in this prayer:
"Near the cross! O Lamb of God, Bring its scenes before me;
Help me walk from day to day With its shadow o'er me."
(Fanny J. Crosby, "Jesus, Keep Me Near the Cross," Baptist Hymnal, op., cit., No. 280)
Join in silence,
as we survey the wondrous cross,
as we see upon the cross of Jesus the very dying form of One who suffered there for us,
as we ask the Lamb of God to bring its scenes before us.
After a quiet time of reflection Terry Yount will play a stanza of When I Survey the Wondrous Cross. That will draw to a close our quiet time and signal us to stand and sing our hymn.
