The Cross: A Symbol Of Absolutes
Sermon
Living Vertically
Gospel Sermons For Lent/Easter Cycle C
Pilate asked him, "What is truth?" (John 18:38).
The cross of Good Friday stands as a symbol of the absolute in a world where much is relative and where a great deal more seems to be relative. Pilate's question has become our question: "What is truth? What is genuine? What is absolute?" We contemporary Americans have become suspicious of givens and unconditionals and absolutes because of the way they are sometimes used dogmatically to force consensus. So many of us have completely dismissed the possibility of dealing with absolutes that we live in what is described by some as a therapeutic society. Everything, we seem to believe, can be handled in an intrapersonal, therapeutic manner.
If someone says, for example, that they are confronted by a problem, we assume the problem must be with them -- they need therapy so that they will no longer feel like they have the problem. Someone has trouble at the office: we tell them to work on their attitude or to alter their habits or their dress; we may go so far as to advise them to quit and look for a job where they will feel more comfortable. It doesn't generally occur to us that the problem they present may have to do with an inherently immoral or evil system on the job -- some absolute wrong that needs to be confronted and withstood absolutely. We tend to dismiss, in other words, the possibility of absolutes that demand response on their own terms. We tend to act as though every situation can be manipulated or managed away.
As we read the Passion story, we realize that Jesus would rather not have died on Good Friday: he was not a self-styled martyr. That much was made clear in the Garden of Gethsemene as he prayed, "Remove this cup from me." But it was clear to him that there was an absolute necessity for his death: "Not what I want, but what you want" (Mark 14:36). He could not manipulate or wish away the necessity of facing head-on the worst that the powers of evil could muster by being absolutely faithful -- faithful even unto death. "No one takes it [my life] from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it up again. I have received this command from my Father" (John 10:18). So Christ on the cross reminds us of the polarity of the eternal absolutes: absolute evil, the darkness that refuses to comprehend the light, which is absolute good, obedience to God, faithfulness even unto death.
When we neglect the presence of absolutes -- as so many of us do -- we are open to a great many pitfalls. Denying absolutes leads to a trivialization of both the power of evil, and the possibility of redemption. As a campus minister I frequently see students who are referred by local pastors or faculty. On a number of occasions I have counseled with individuals who have had firsthand experiences with the destructive powers of absolute evil: they have been abused by parents or trusted adults; they have been addicted to alcohol, other drugs, or illicit sex since they were very young; they have had multiple abortions or been married and divorced at incredibly early ages. They have been involved in all manner of destructive but very real change-of-the-millenium situations. Not infrequently the person who did the referring will remark: "Well, I can't believe so-and-so's story. I assume it is just an attention-getting device." Without denying that some people have active imaginations and know how to get attention, these stories are usually true. They are the results of destructive encounters with evil. Jesus was not looking for attention by going to Calvary. He was overcoming the power of death by facing it head on. And because of his victory over the forces of death and evil, we have the power, in Jesus' name, to overcome. But we cannot overcome death and destruction if we don't acknowledge their existence and point out the source of potential victory -- Jesus, triumphant on the cross.
There is a second snare for us when we deny the reality of absolutes of good and evil related to this first one: it is the tendency to blame the victims of the powers of evil rather than offering them a way out. A number of studies over the years by social scientists have shown how tenaciously we hang onto the absurd notion that we live in a just universe. Most of us want to cling to the idea that if we just keep our noses clean and do our best we will be rewarded, that "everyone gets what they really deserve." As a consequence we end up blaming victims as if they brought the evil which befell them on themselves. How often is the rape victim still portrayed as a loose woman who was really "asking for it"? Some years ago one of my mother's friends was severely beaten by a purse snatcher. A newspaper article described her as "an elderly woman in a bad part of town," suggesting she had really brought the mugging on herself. My mother was indignant -- her friend was waiting for the bus after church in her own neighborhood, something she had done for years. The fact is she was the victim of a violent crime, not its cause.
When I was campus minister at a large state university we had an ongoing support group for former members of destructive cults. One of the very difficult barriers often put in the way of persons coming out of such groups is that friends, families, even ministers and counselors, treat them as if some flaw in them was responsible for their cult involvement, rather than acknowledging that there are many pernicious groups that use manipulative techniques for their own end, literally snaring innocent victims. Instead of offering the word of grace, hope, and forgiveness which was assured by Calvary, we make the mistake of the disciples who, seeing the blind man at the temple asked, "Rabbi, who sinned?" (John 9:2). They wanted to know who was to blame, and we often blame the victim rather than the evil.
The third very common pitfall is the most insidious: it is the temptation to internalize every encounter with evil in an intrapersonal way leading to a crippling pre-occupation with self rather than a dynamic confrontation with the evil. Return a moment to our opening illustration of the person who feels uncomfortable on the job. Suppose the feelings of discomfort are due to the fact that the boss is embezzling money, or the company is fundamentally corrupt, or the product is a safety hazard and a public menace. Dealing with negative feelings too simply by means of a coping mechanism is to miss an opportunity to engage the absolutes of the world.
In the Gospels we read how Jesus repeatedly told the disciples that if they were to be faithful to him, they would have to suffer -- they would have to confront the powers of evil, and that might hurt. It is hard to be on the side of good. Each time he told them this they responded in the same way. First, "they were afraid" (Mark 9:32 and 10:32) and then they engaged in inappropriate self-concern. They wondered who was greatest. They wanted special favors in the kingdom of heaven, they were jealous of others who did great things in Jesus' name. They became so concerned about themselves that the closest disciples fell asleep as Jesus agonized in the Garden; they were so caught up with their own feelings that they missed out on the cosmic confrontation between good and evil that resulted in eternal victory for those who do indeed follow Jesus in the way of faithfulness.
The cross stands as a symbol of the confrontation between absolutes -- absolute good and absolute evil. It is a stark reminder of the irony of Pilate's question: there is truth; there are absolutes. It reminds us of Jesus' faithfulness even unto death and calls us beyond ourselves and our own feelings. It summons us to acknowledge and confront evil around us by claiming the good that God makes available to us in the sacrifice of his son Jesus. We affirm on this day of the church year that the victory over sin and death has been won by Christ's sacrifice on Calvary. The cross calls us to the battle that surrounds us by reminding us that God's good triumphs only as we painfully and faithfully face and overcome evil.
The cross of Good Friday stands as a symbol of the absolute in a world where much is relative and where a great deal more seems to be relative. Pilate's question has become our question: "What is truth? What is genuine? What is absolute?" We contemporary Americans have become suspicious of givens and unconditionals and absolutes because of the way they are sometimes used dogmatically to force consensus. So many of us have completely dismissed the possibility of dealing with absolutes that we live in what is described by some as a therapeutic society. Everything, we seem to believe, can be handled in an intrapersonal, therapeutic manner.
If someone says, for example, that they are confronted by a problem, we assume the problem must be with them -- they need therapy so that they will no longer feel like they have the problem. Someone has trouble at the office: we tell them to work on their attitude or to alter their habits or their dress; we may go so far as to advise them to quit and look for a job where they will feel more comfortable. It doesn't generally occur to us that the problem they present may have to do with an inherently immoral or evil system on the job -- some absolute wrong that needs to be confronted and withstood absolutely. We tend to dismiss, in other words, the possibility of absolutes that demand response on their own terms. We tend to act as though every situation can be manipulated or managed away.
As we read the Passion story, we realize that Jesus would rather not have died on Good Friday: he was not a self-styled martyr. That much was made clear in the Garden of Gethsemene as he prayed, "Remove this cup from me." But it was clear to him that there was an absolute necessity for his death: "Not what I want, but what you want" (Mark 14:36). He could not manipulate or wish away the necessity of facing head-on the worst that the powers of evil could muster by being absolutely faithful -- faithful even unto death. "No one takes it [my life] from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it up again. I have received this command from my Father" (John 10:18). So Christ on the cross reminds us of the polarity of the eternal absolutes: absolute evil, the darkness that refuses to comprehend the light, which is absolute good, obedience to God, faithfulness even unto death.
When we neglect the presence of absolutes -- as so many of us do -- we are open to a great many pitfalls. Denying absolutes leads to a trivialization of both the power of evil, and the possibility of redemption. As a campus minister I frequently see students who are referred by local pastors or faculty. On a number of occasions I have counseled with individuals who have had firsthand experiences with the destructive powers of absolute evil: they have been abused by parents or trusted adults; they have been addicted to alcohol, other drugs, or illicit sex since they were very young; they have had multiple abortions or been married and divorced at incredibly early ages. They have been involved in all manner of destructive but very real change-of-the-millenium situations. Not infrequently the person who did the referring will remark: "Well, I can't believe so-and-so's story. I assume it is just an attention-getting device." Without denying that some people have active imaginations and know how to get attention, these stories are usually true. They are the results of destructive encounters with evil. Jesus was not looking for attention by going to Calvary. He was overcoming the power of death by facing it head on. And because of his victory over the forces of death and evil, we have the power, in Jesus' name, to overcome. But we cannot overcome death and destruction if we don't acknowledge their existence and point out the source of potential victory -- Jesus, triumphant on the cross.
There is a second snare for us when we deny the reality of absolutes of good and evil related to this first one: it is the tendency to blame the victims of the powers of evil rather than offering them a way out. A number of studies over the years by social scientists have shown how tenaciously we hang onto the absurd notion that we live in a just universe. Most of us want to cling to the idea that if we just keep our noses clean and do our best we will be rewarded, that "everyone gets what they really deserve." As a consequence we end up blaming victims as if they brought the evil which befell them on themselves. How often is the rape victim still portrayed as a loose woman who was really "asking for it"? Some years ago one of my mother's friends was severely beaten by a purse snatcher. A newspaper article described her as "an elderly woman in a bad part of town," suggesting she had really brought the mugging on herself. My mother was indignant -- her friend was waiting for the bus after church in her own neighborhood, something she had done for years. The fact is she was the victim of a violent crime, not its cause.
When I was campus minister at a large state university we had an ongoing support group for former members of destructive cults. One of the very difficult barriers often put in the way of persons coming out of such groups is that friends, families, even ministers and counselors, treat them as if some flaw in them was responsible for their cult involvement, rather than acknowledging that there are many pernicious groups that use manipulative techniques for their own end, literally snaring innocent victims. Instead of offering the word of grace, hope, and forgiveness which was assured by Calvary, we make the mistake of the disciples who, seeing the blind man at the temple asked, "Rabbi, who sinned?" (John 9:2). They wanted to know who was to blame, and we often blame the victim rather than the evil.
The third very common pitfall is the most insidious: it is the temptation to internalize every encounter with evil in an intrapersonal way leading to a crippling pre-occupation with self rather than a dynamic confrontation with the evil. Return a moment to our opening illustration of the person who feels uncomfortable on the job. Suppose the feelings of discomfort are due to the fact that the boss is embezzling money, or the company is fundamentally corrupt, or the product is a safety hazard and a public menace. Dealing with negative feelings too simply by means of a coping mechanism is to miss an opportunity to engage the absolutes of the world.
In the Gospels we read how Jesus repeatedly told the disciples that if they were to be faithful to him, they would have to suffer -- they would have to confront the powers of evil, and that might hurt. It is hard to be on the side of good. Each time he told them this they responded in the same way. First, "they were afraid" (Mark 9:32 and 10:32) and then they engaged in inappropriate self-concern. They wondered who was greatest. They wanted special favors in the kingdom of heaven, they were jealous of others who did great things in Jesus' name. They became so concerned about themselves that the closest disciples fell asleep as Jesus agonized in the Garden; they were so caught up with their own feelings that they missed out on the cosmic confrontation between good and evil that resulted in eternal victory for those who do indeed follow Jesus in the way of faithfulness.
The cross stands as a symbol of the confrontation between absolutes -- absolute good and absolute evil. It is a stark reminder of the irony of Pilate's question: there is truth; there are absolutes. It reminds us of Jesus' faithfulness even unto death and calls us beyond ourselves and our own feelings. It summons us to acknowledge and confront evil around us by claiming the good that God makes available to us in the sacrifice of his son Jesus. We affirm on this day of the church year that the victory over sin and death has been won by Christ's sacrifice on Calvary. The cross calls us to the battle that surrounds us by reminding us that God's good triumphs only as we painfully and faithfully face and overcome evil.
