Three years ago Fiona and I found ourselves sitting side-by-side in the pews of St. Ignatius Loyola Church in Denver. Her school was rehearsing for their Christmas Program and, seeing that they were Kindergartners, I had come down to sit with them while they restlessly waited for the other grades to rehearse. As we sat there in the sanctuary, surrounded by stained glass and what felt to be, limitless architecture, Fiona pulled my arm, pointed upward and asked with a tint of terror, who that man was on the cross.
I realize as United Methodists, we aren’t accustomed to seeing Jesus on the Cross. We might talk about seeing Jesus in the stranger, up in the sky, maybe even feeling Jesus in our hearts, but very rarely do we stumble upon the Jesus just recently nailed to a wooden cross. In our churches, this Jesus, this suffering, defeated Jesus, is tucked away during Ordinary Time and maybe, just maybe, brought out for a visit if with the Lenten Theme He seems to be a good fit. Quite understandably so, we seem to prefer the G-rated Jesus; a Jesus swaddled in cloth or a Jesus soaked in heavenly light. We like the clean, happy Jesus; the Jesus who doesn’t offend, avoids anything political, and dies quietly in the background of lectionary cycles.
It turns out, reflecting on our Scripture passage, that we are not alone. The people of Corinth also favored these more pleasant portraits of Jesus. It also turns out, reflecting on our Scripture passage, that the Corinthian’s soteriological selective imaging really irritated Paul. Well, ‘irritated’ is more my own interpretation…it’s not exactly what the Scripture says. Still, I would argue, in spite of what those biblical scholars might tell us, I think sometimes you have to read between the lines.
I mean, think about this, Paul is speaking to a community that has for all intensive purposes has completely rejected the ministry of the cross that he had spent his whole ministry with them preaching. They have rejected this message in favor of a more culturally appealing position. The crucifixion was a political platform in their time and so too inconveniently controversial. With Paul not around, they had laid claim to the ever-so-popular Gospel of: Be Nice, Follow the Rules, Use your Manners, and Always Smile.
Preachers had come to fill Paul’s place with methods that resulted in better bottom lines, heavier offering plates and higher pew traffic than what Paul’s message had ever brought in. All they had to do was toss out that drag theology where a crucified Christ shapes the life of God’s people. So, in an act that would surely break all of the United Methodist appointment system rules, Paul writes them a letter reminding them of their roles as Ambassadors of Christ, their call to become the righteousness of God, and their warning to not accept the grace of God in vain.
The recipients of this letter are not new believers. They are the church. Paul realizes the importance of the message they carry into the world and the potential they possess to distort the message of Christ. He speaks of their call to become the righteousness of God.
Become the righteousness of God.
Now there is a Lenten challenge. The Greek word for “righteousness” translated as “justice.” A justice that is not punitive, but representative of God’s restorative, reconciling, and creative presence in this world. It is God's radical participation in seeking justice in this world and our holy invitation to serve as active participants, committed co-creators, in God's new world order.
Herein lies the challenge of following the crucified Christ.
To follow the crucified Christ we must first and foremost confront and participate in a crucifixion not our own; the crucifixion we could ignore, pass by, neglect and escape. Confronting the crucifixion that isn’t nice or pretty or polite or plain to look at but the crucifixion that has many sides and multiple wound sites. We encounter and embrace this crucifixion not only as a historical act but as an ongoing experience that we are called to partake in, just as Jesus did. Jesus identified our personal suffering and transformed it into His personal mission. Today we too are called to look at a suffering not our own and embrace it as our reality for the sake of justice and for the purposes of reconciliation.
For Paul, in this passage, the mission of the church is nothing less than to transform, through Christ, the world into a reflection of God’s righteousness. That Jesus choose to suffer so that we might be reconciled to God. That Jesus saw suffering and responded to this suffering in a way that would ultimately erase that struggle...
We need no longer pine for the love of God.
We need no longer wander as orphans in a world not our own.
A grace not to be taken in vain but with an understanding of the responsibility and role that accompanies it.
This year, I invite us into a communal Lenten commitment that is less about practicing personal piety and all about placing ourselves in the pathway of the social crucifixions of our times. Sacrificing, as Jesus did, the privilege that prevents us from reconciling the world to Christ’s vision.
David Gaider writes, “Privilege is when you think something is not a problem because it’s not a problem to you personally.”
I experience privilege each time I fall asleep surrounded by the silence of a sky absent of bombs and missiles. I experience privilege each time the touch of a heated forehead results in a quick trip to a familiar doctor’s office who will care for my child.
I experience privilege each time I pass a police car and feel safe because I was born in this country and have no fear of being separated from the family I call my home.
I experience privilege.
Over and over again it passes me by and if I am not careful, if my eyes are closed to the crucifixion in my midst, I would completely miss its presence, its call upon my life, that this grace God has given might be taken and experienced in vain.
The church exists to Rise Up above these systems of oppression, these myths of entitlement, these mechanisms of crucifixion. To rise up with an alternative narrative that is built not on on justified violence or systemic isolation or legitimized exploitation but on restoration and reconciliation symbolized in the promise of the Cross.
To follow the Crucified Christ is to recognize that because of Jesus' ministry of the Cross we do not suffer alone. To join with the Crucified Christ is to repent and awaken to the suffering around us that, like Christ, we too might transform this suffering by making it our own.
That no one would suffer alone. That no one who bears a cross would carry it in isolation. That is the mission of the church. That is the message of Ash Wednesday.
This Lent, may we too choose to lay down our lives, so that Easter Morning, at this Acceptable Time, all might Rise.
