Cross Foolishness
Stories
Lectionary Tales For The Pulpit
62 Stories For Cycle B
Emma stomped up the church steps and unlocked the front door. Her dinner appointment had kept her much later than she planned, and now she must hurry if she wanted to make it home on foot before dark. Walking home alone after dark was a serious concern, but it could not deter her from her family duty.
Keys still in hand, and without stopping to remove her coat, boots or scarf, Emma plodded to the storage closet near the secretary's office. She unlocked the door and turned on the light. There, in its place on the back shelf, encased in a handmade velvet cover, sat Grandfather Norman's cross. She removed the faded maroon cover respectfully, folded it and placed it on the shelf. Then she lifted the heavy, goldplated cross, which was very nearly as big as she, and gingerly backed out of the closet. She took extra care not to bump one of the crosspiece arms against the woodwork. Grandfather Norman had purchased this cross in the Holy Land in 1902, and had it shipped home at a great cost, as a gift to his church. After all these years it fell on her shoulders to see to its care and placement every week.
Not that there would be such a need if "certain circumstances" had not come about. Emma staggered a bit under the sheer magnitude of her burden as she made her way to the elevator. Once inside, she set the cross down on the carpeted floor and pressed the UP button. There was a slight shudder as the door closed and the compartment rose toward the sanctuary. If it weren't for "certain circumstances," and stubborn mules like Harvey Volkman, she wouldn't have been making these weekly rounds for the past 10 years.
Most of the younger members of the congregation knew nothing about "the circumstances." Most of the longtime members didn't care. But it was a matter of family honor for Emma, and a matter of pigheadedness, she could testify, on Harvey Volkman's part. Because Harvey had been the one who brought up the idea of the "old rugged cross" in the first place.
Fifteen years earlier, on March 12, 1980, Harvey Volkman had raised the idea of replacing Grandfather Norman's beautiful gold Holy Land cross with a rough-hewn, life-sized wooden cross. It would come complete with three metal spikes embedded where Christ's hands and feet would have been. To Emma's mother's horror, the Worship Taskforce had referred the idea to the Trustees, and the Trustees had actually brought it before the Church Council for discussion. Well, of course, Emma's mother had objected to such a ridiculous idea. She stated quite eloquently the importance of her father's loving and beautiful contribution to the worship experience of their church. And Harvey Volkman had had the gall to call Grandfather's cross a gaudy museum piece that had nothing to do with Jesus or his sacrifice for us.
Well, the battle raged back and forth, with members taking sides, until finally the Council chair had the presence of mind to table the discussion until a study could be done. Unfortunately, a mere five years later, their new pastor began a Saturday night service, and she bought Harvey Volkman's idea hook, line and sinker. The morning after that first Saturday night service, Emma and her mother entered the sanctuary early to find that "old rugged cross" still standing in the chancel. Grandfather Norman's cross had been unceremoniously dumped behind the altar, out of the way!
From that Sunday until her death, Emma's mother had carefully put the Holy Land cross away in the cover she made for it, in the locked closet, every Saturday morning. And she lovingly returned it to the altar after services every Saturday night. For the past 10 years, the duty had fallen on Emma.
She lifted the cross into her arms again. There was a strange pause when the elevator stopped, just before the doors slid open. And when they did, there stood Harvey Volkman, punching at the elevator buttons, with the "old rugged cross" perched on his shoulder just like Jesus on his way to Golgotha. When he saw Emma he snorted, kind of like an old bull. And instead of stepping aside to let her out, he barged right ahead, jamming that oversized woodworking reject right across the elevator door so Emma couldn't even pass. While he tried to heft it around so that it stood upright, he bumped the crosspiece arm into the button panel, which closed the door and started them down. Then, when he tried to turn to stop it, he bumped the buttons again, and the elevator jolted to a halt halfway between the floors.
Emma was fully prepared to tear into Harvey for his rudeness, until she saw the surprised look on his face and realized that he hadn't really meant to get them stuck. After a few minutes of his button punching, door pounding and calling for help, she set Grandfather's cross in the safety of the corner behind her. She helped lift the "old rugged cross" off Harvey's shoulder and lean it against the wall. Then she sat down as daintily as the limited space allowed. When another forty minutes had passed without any hope of rescue, Harvey Volkman did the same.
It was about 9:30 when Pastor Jones looked out her dining room window and noticed there were still lights on in the church. She had thought Harvey Volkman would turn them off when he put the cross away after the 5:00 service, as he always did. Running over to switch them off was no chore, and while she was there she remembered that she'd left her sermon notes on the pulpit. When she tried to take the elevator up to the sanctuary to get them, it didn't work, and she called the janitor.
Emma patted her hair and lifted Grandfather Norman's Holy Land cross into her arms when the elevator began to move again, after a lot of hammering and cussing by the janitor. She couldn't quite describe the looks on the pastor's and janitor's faces when the doors slid open to reveal her and Harvey, bearing their various crosses. Nor would she have attempted to relate their reactions when Harvey shifted his burden onto the janitor with instructions to dump it in the trash, and she deposited hers in the pastor's arms suggesting that it might be permanently placed on the chapel altar. They said they planned to share the expense of providing a new cross for the sanctuary. It was to be chosen by the Worship Taskforce and the Trustees.
Their chins really hit the floor, though, when Harvey held out his arm to Emma and asked her to join him for a cup of coffee, after which he would give her a ride home. No one was ever told just what had occurred in that elevator in those three and a half hours. But it had a lasting effect on Emma and Harvey, and on the church as well.
Keys still in hand, and without stopping to remove her coat, boots or scarf, Emma plodded to the storage closet near the secretary's office. She unlocked the door and turned on the light. There, in its place on the back shelf, encased in a handmade velvet cover, sat Grandfather Norman's cross. She removed the faded maroon cover respectfully, folded it and placed it on the shelf. Then she lifted the heavy, goldplated cross, which was very nearly as big as she, and gingerly backed out of the closet. She took extra care not to bump one of the crosspiece arms against the woodwork. Grandfather Norman had purchased this cross in the Holy Land in 1902, and had it shipped home at a great cost, as a gift to his church. After all these years it fell on her shoulders to see to its care and placement every week.
Not that there would be such a need if "certain circumstances" had not come about. Emma staggered a bit under the sheer magnitude of her burden as she made her way to the elevator. Once inside, she set the cross down on the carpeted floor and pressed the UP button. There was a slight shudder as the door closed and the compartment rose toward the sanctuary. If it weren't for "certain circumstances," and stubborn mules like Harvey Volkman, she wouldn't have been making these weekly rounds for the past 10 years.
Most of the younger members of the congregation knew nothing about "the circumstances." Most of the longtime members didn't care. But it was a matter of family honor for Emma, and a matter of pigheadedness, she could testify, on Harvey Volkman's part. Because Harvey had been the one who brought up the idea of the "old rugged cross" in the first place.
Fifteen years earlier, on March 12, 1980, Harvey Volkman had raised the idea of replacing Grandfather Norman's beautiful gold Holy Land cross with a rough-hewn, life-sized wooden cross. It would come complete with three metal spikes embedded where Christ's hands and feet would have been. To Emma's mother's horror, the Worship Taskforce had referred the idea to the Trustees, and the Trustees had actually brought it before the Church Council for discussion. Well, of course, Emma's mother had objected to such a ridiculous idea. She stated quite eloquently the importance of her father's loving and beautiful contribution to the worship experience of their church. And Harvey Volkman had had the gall to call Grandfather's cross a gaudy museum piece that had nothing to do with Jesus or his sacrifice for us.
Well, the battle raged back and forth, with members taking sides, until finally the Council chair had the presence of mind to table the discussion until a study could be done. Unfortunately, a mere five years later, their new pastor began a Saturday night service, and she bought Harvey Volkman's idea hook, line and sinker. The morning after that first Saturday night service, Emma and her mother entered the sanctuary early to find that "old rugged cross" still standing in the chancel. Grandfather Norman's cross had been unceremoniously dumped behind the altar, out of the way!
From that Sunday until her death, Emma's mother had carefully put the Holy Land cross away in the cover she made for it, in the locked closet, every Saturday morning. And she lovingly returned it to the altar after services every Saturday night. For the past 10 years, the duty had fallen on Emma.
She lifted the cross into her arms again. There was a strange pause when the elevator stopped, just before the doors slid open. And when they did, there stood Harvey Volkman, punching at the elevator buttons, with the "old rugged cross" perched on his shoulder just like Jesus on his way to Golgotha. When he saw Emma he snorted, kind of like an old bull. And instead of stepping aside to let her out, he barged right ahead, jamming that oversized woodworking reject right across the elevator door so Emma couldn't even pass. While he tried to heft it around so that it stood upright, he bumped the crosspiece arm into the button panel, which closed the door and started them down. Then, when he tried to turn to stop it, he bumped the buttons again, and the elevator jolted to a halt halfway between the floors.
Emma was fully prepared to tear into Harvey for his rudeness, until she saw the surprised look on his face and realized that he hadn't really meant to get them stuck. After a few minutes of his button punching, door pounding and calling for help, she set Grandfather's cross in the safety of the corner behind her. She helped lift the "old rugged cross" off Harvey's shoulder and lean it against the wall. Then she sat down as daintily as the limited space allowed. When another forty minutes had passed without any hope of rescue, Harvey Volkman did the same.
It was about 9:30 when Pastor Jones looked out her dining room window and noticed there were still lights on in the church. She had thought Harvey Volkman would turn them off when he put the cross away after the 5:00 service, as he always did. Running over to switch them off was no chore, and while she was there she remembered that she'd left her sermon notes on the pulpit. When she tried to take the elevator up to the sanctuary to get them, it didn't work, and she called the janitor.
Emma patted her hair and lifted Grandfather Norman's Holy Land cross into her arms when the elevator began to move again, after a lot of hammering and cussing by the janitor. She couldn't quite describe the looks on the pastor's and janitor's faces when the doors slid open to reveal her and Harvey, bearing their various crosses. Nor would she have attempted to relate their reactions when Harvey shifted his burden onto the janitor with instructions to dump it in the trash, and she deposited hers in the pastor's arms suggesting that it might be permanently placed on the chapel altar. They said they planned to share the expense of providing a new cross for the sanctuary. It was to be chosen by the Worship Taskforce and the Trustees.
Their chins really hit the floor, though, when Harvey held out his arm to Emma and asked her to join him for a cup of coffee, after which he would give her a ride home. No one was ever told just what had occurred in that elevator in those three and a half hours. But it had a lasting effect on Emma and Harvey, and on the church as well.
