The Way of The Cross

The dramatic and hopeful story that began heralding highways through the wilderness ends on the narrow, dusty path to Golgotha.  Here on this hill we find the subversive Nazarene struggling to carry his own death stake, alone and abandoned on the journey, an enemy of imperial Rome and her Jewish collaborators.  Reaching the place of execution, he is stripped naked for the third time, exposing himself to public ridicule and shame, and then forced to lie on the ground while both forearms and wrists are nailed to a wooden beam.  Naked and betrayed, Jesus is finally, and almost mercifully, raised up onto the cross where he will die a slow and agonizing death.  According to historians, Roman crucifixion poles measured only seven feet tall, allowing wild animals to tear the convict apart as he slowly dies of asphyxiation. This form of execution was so heinous, it led Cicero in 63 B.C. to write “If we are to be threatened with death, then we want to die in freedom; let the executioner, the shrouding of the head, and the very name of the cross be banished from the body and life of Roman citizens, from their thoughts, eyes and ears!”  But for Rome, the message is clear, oppose us and our power structure and we will publicly humiliate you, destroy you and feed your remains to the dogs.  Roman crucifixion is the public and political manifestation of imperial triumph over anyone foolish enough to dare revolution.  Ironically, only the women in Jesus' circle of disciples brave an appearance at his death, showing their solidarity to the bitter end...

And yet, this instance of divine humiliation marks the cosmic moment when the rulers of this world are finally overthrown, not through coercion and power, but through defeat and death. The cross is Jesus' ultimate political statement, warning all who come after Him that this way of suffering isn’t some pithy expression of bourgeois self-denial, it is the acknowledgment and belief that choosing His path requires upon us the sentence of death. 

Christ’s affliction becomes the physical exhortation to see the world through the lens of Golgotha, refusing even now amid our desire to carve out our piece of the political pie, to compromise the politics of the cross.  But who of us is honestly willing to accept that by remaining there, by submitting Himself to the unjust authorities, by resisting the urge to call upon Elijah, Jesus ultimately shows all mankind the road to liberation. Our personal, social and political liberation does not come from coerced Constantinianism. Living in the political shadow of Christ's cross does not allow us to engage in punitive or coercive action with our social and political enemies, as we demand our voices by heard, not matter how vitriolic and bitter they sound. This will to power is antithetical to Christ, aligning us more with what and who we hate instead of the one who has shown us a new way, this way of deference and shame.

The way of the cross, the way of salvation and cultural transformation isn’t achieved via position and authority. It is experienced through sharing his cup of suffering.  Mark's Gospel  underlines this point rather dramatically by positioning two bandits ‘one on his right and one on his left’, the positions of honor requested by James and John, with Jesus on Golgotha.  The message is crystal clear: 'if you want to join me and my kingdom efforts, pick up your cross, carry it to Golgotha, and climb up on it and die'.  After all, a slave isn’t above his master, and if the teacher is despised, what will become of his students?  If the world hates you, remember it hated him first.  And in those moments, resist the temptation to protest, to demand equality, to seek your inalienable rights.  On the contrary, model Christ's humility; “when he was reviled, he did not revile in return; when he suffered, he did not threaten, but continued entrusting himself to him who judges justly.”

Few Christ-followers choose this path, his road of anguish and tears.  And yet here Jesus is, bearing our stripes, receiving our wounds and uttering not a word in return.  If this story is true, and if there is the cosmic chance of God’s kingdom coming on earth, in this space and in this time, it will only come when Christ-followers abandon the propensity to persuade through power and embrace the cup of constant sorrow willingly and joyfully, pointing back to that historic day when the sovereignty of this world was handed over to the divine Human One in the death of God’s suffering servant.

Lent: A Time For Radical Discipleship

And To Dust You Shall Return

It’s early March, but here in the Southeast signs of spring are just becoming visible after an altogether brutal winter.  Tender buds are forming on the trees, and just outside my window the first buttercups are braving the winter wind and morning snow. One season is faithfully, if begrudgingly, giving way to another in this continual cycle of life. How fitting then that we in the Christian tradition observe the season of Lent during this period of earthly transformation.  From the Anglo-Saxon word “Lencten”, Lent means ‘long’ or ‘to lengthen’, referring to the increasing hours of sunlight as springtime creeps ever nearer and winter retreats back from which she came. Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday, marking the beginning of 40 days of dark, penitent preparation as Christians the world over join a great cloud of witnesses practicing the great traditions of spiritual formation. The Lenten rituals of prayer, fasting, repentance and self-denial pre-dates the established church, with evidence that even first century Christians formalized a time of intentional spiritual formation, taking seriously Christ’s commands to “deny yourself, pick up your cross, and follow me continuously”.[1]  We join a community of travelers along this way, led, modeled and embodied by ‘The Way’ himself.

Christ’s three-fold challenge (deny, pick up and follow) is the sin qua non for radical discipleship. Lent is the occasion whereby we align our soul and will more deliberately with the Spirit of God. It is living for forty days how we should be living 365 days a year.  And while self-denial and the divestiture of habits, addictions and luxuries that enslave us is the first step toward transfiguration, personal disavowal is much more than sentimental bourgeois asceticism.  The biblical connotation of 'denial' evokes images of a courtroom, where followers of Christ are pressed to either profess Christ or renounce him, the former necessitating self-sacrifice and death, as slaves for Christ Jesus.[2]  And yet, the very choice to fast and deny one's physical needs provides both existential and physical freedom. “It should be accepted as a most elementary human and moral truth that no man can live a fully sane and decent life unless he is able to say ‘no’ on occasion to his natural bodily appetites.”[3] No one who simply eats and drinks whenever he feels like eating or drinking, or gratifies his every physical urge and impulse can ever consider himself free.[4] He is the servant of compulsion, a slave unto himself. Lent becomes the opportunity to put down the habit-forming indulgences that bind us, while joining our Lord in the solidarity of self-denial and acts of service.  For it is in serving the least of these that we offer freedom not only to the 'other', but to ourselves as well.  As Isaiah reminds us:

“Is this not the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of wickedness, to undo the straps of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover him, and not to hide yourself from your own flesh?...If you pour yourself out for the hungry and satisfy the desire of the afflicted, then shall your light rise in the darkness and your gloom be as the noonday.”[5]

 

And still, this self-denial should not be an end in itself.   It's never enough to simply put aside this thing or the other, we are required to pick up something altogether different, a cross. The specific turn of phrase echoing down through the ages to ‘pick up your cross’ has no other meaning than an invitation to share in Christ’s suffering; to join Him weeping with those who weep, mourning with those who mourn, making peace with those who choose war, offering meekness to a world replete with domination and practicing mercy with those hell bent on redemptive violence.  Only when we die to ourselves, when we pick up this cross will we be truly free. Only then will we be worthy to be called Blessed.


As His followers, called by His namesake, we identify with and accept as recompense the suffering that comes from this subversive Way.  The ashes of Wednesday remind us


“A servant is not greater than his master. If they persecuted me, they will also persecute you.”[6]

As we move deeper into Lent, as one spiritual season gives way to a new one, urge one another on to follow him unceasingly.  Obedience is never an accident.  One never falls into faithfulness, it requires intentionality and action.  Abide in Him so that He may abide in you.[7] Join the saints in this season of spiritual change repenting of sin, renewing of faith, practicing the traditions of the ekklessia and preparing to celebrate the joyful mystery of our salvation.

Amen.

---

[1] Mark 8: 34.

[2] Fears, J. “Rome: The Ideology of Imperial Power.” 1980.

[3] Merton, Thomas. New Seeds of Contemplation.

[4] Ibid.

[5] Isaiah 58: 6-7, 10.

[6] John 15: 20.

[7] John 15: 4.