Solidarity

Just before Lent began, something appeared in the sanctuary of Second Presbyterian that many people had been asking about since the new sanctuary opened in January. A cross. The central symbol of our faith had finally been included in our new worship space. At first, I didn’t like it. It disrupted the simplicity that I had been enjoying. The pulpit sort of forms a cross as interpreted in the PCUSA seal; we had a table, a font and a Christ candle. Wasn’t this enough? Despite what I thought, there were many who thought something was missing without a prominent cross.

What a strange symbol our faith has. The cross is an execution device. Maybe if Jesus would have lived in 2007, an appropriate symbol for Christianity would be a syringe or an electric chair. For me, as Al Gore might say, the cross is the inconvenient truth of faith. It is so tempting to skip over the crucifixion aspect, especially since I was so turned off by the marketing and frenzy surrounding “The Passion of the Christ” movie a few years ago. I am a Christian who likes to think about the life Jesus lived and the example he left for us, or the resurrection, which calls to mind notions of eternity and hope. But a horrifying death by torture? No thanks.

Today was one of those days where things were a little rough at work. This morning, one of our participants had what we called a “psychotic episode” which was really an episode of pain, illness and rage. It began with us asking him to leave for the day because of the language he was using and the way he was talking to us. It ended in his being taken away in an ambulance after he had been so desperate to seek release from the pains of this life that he had rammed his own head against one of our buildings in an attempt to take his own life. As I said something like “I understand what you mean” or “I know what you are going through” he absolutely broke down as a person and wept openly to the point of mental instability where he made threats against others and himself before finally injuring himself. As he made clear to me, I don’t know what he is going through, and he was right. As he lay in pain on the cold concrete with his arms spread and his legs flailing around in a state of semi-consciousness, he kept crying in pain, spiritual, emotional and physical.

There is someone who knows what pain we face in life. For in human form, God walked in our shoes. Christ faced the most humiliating and cruel pain the world had to offer. That is the message of Good Friday: the cross stands as an eternal symbol of the God who bears the pain of this broken world every day.