An Offensive Cross

I was chatting over the weekend with someone who’d been to another church on her vacation – and who was telling me there wasn’t a visible cross anywhere in the sanctuary.  Ferns, yes, video screens and a lectern, some chairs and a fake tree – but no cross.  Why?

I certainly don’t know the motivations of that church, but I’ve heard other pastors say, “The cross isn’t the only symbol of Christian faith.  We want to use all of them:  stars, angels, candle flames, doves.  We don’t want to be exclusive.”

Now for someone who deeply values inclusivity, I’m really rankled by that logic.  What they mean is that they don’t want to be offensive.  The cross carries all sorts of baggage, so let’s pick gentler, less bothersome symbols.  More people will come if we’re not so off-putting right up front.

And they have a point.  The cross is often offensive.  It can be offensive for the wrong reasons;  many Jews, for example, see it as a sign of long and painful anti-Jewishness  on the part of the church.  That’s an offense for which we ought to repent.  But at its best – even at its best – the cross is supposed to be offensive. 

There is supposed to be something shocking about a God put to death at the hands of human beings.  There is supposed to be something scandalous about a Savior who accepts – and even chooses – death by crucifixion. The New Testament calls the cross an “offense,” “foolishness,” and a source of “shame.” Peter found it inconceivable that God’s chosen Messiah would ever be touched by suffering, yet the cross visibly confronts us with the shocking message of a weak, vulnerable, crucified Savior.

Ferns are so much more attractive.

But at least we’re honest.  We put it front and center.  Oh, we make it from brass and polish it up to a nice shine so it’s pleasant looking.  Aesthetically there’s nothing offensive about it either.  But theologically, the message we at least put front and center is distasteful:  God in Jesus Christ was put to death by people just like us. We killed the Loving Creator of the Universe.  We killed the Son of God. And God let us do it.

Reminds me of the man who came in late to church.  He’d been looking for a congregation that had people like him in it.  As he settled in his seat the congregation around him was praying the Prayer of Confession:  “We have done those things we ought not to have done, and we have not done those things which we ought to have done.  There is no health within us. Have mercy on us, O God.” And he settled back and said to himself, “Finally.  My kind of people.”