Holy Cross Sunday

                There is a logic to crucifixion.

                For the Roman Empire crucifixion names the dying and dead as:
common criminals,
executed insurrectionists
—overpowered wretches who failed to fall in line.

                For Jews like the Apostle Paul, who had a literalist reading of Deuteronomy 21, “Those who die upon a tree are accursed” branded the crucified as:
condemned by God and cursed like Cane.

                There is a logic to crucifixion
—crushed by God & by Empire.

                Just so, there is a logic to this last week:
—there is a logic to terror—to the attacks on 9/11—those 24 years ago
—destruction, obliteration, leveling of lives…
a logic that is followed by an equally logical response—war and death…

In my experience, friends and peers who peered into the abyss of war in Afghanistan, Iraq, and other places best not named
—came back with cauterized faith, moral injury, addictions and eventually suicide

--A logic to the bullet as well
—the shooting of Charlie Kirk in Utah and schoolchildren in Colorado.
People with political axes to grind or mentally ill and desperate for attention
—or some combination of the two
a logic that is followed by an equally logical response
—18% of Americans saying that sometimes political violence against fellow Americans is necessary…
the copycat glorification of mass shooters and all the fear and despair that gets bottled up and internalized by the young and not so young folk.

                There is a logic to crucifixion. But there is also a logic to the cross.

Let us pray

 

                There are two times when Paul shows off his full command of the conventions of the Greek Language,
flourishes and flowery language and all that
—in 2^nd Corinthians 11 he describes his failures as achievements…
and in 1^st Corinthians 1, he describes the ultimate failure—the cross
—the foolishness of the cross
—the message of the cross…
the logic of the cross.

                The Blessed One is cursed, the one who is Justice Incarnate is tried and executed… The logic of crucifixion comes up against the logic of the cross…
And in this strange crash, like flint struck, sparks fly.
All the logic catches fire; it is all upended!
“Do you really want to play by those rules?”
“Is that the system you want to maintain?”
Roman Empire and Ridged reading of Scripture erupt and are replaced by that figure crucified and raised—Jesus Christ.

                The logic of the cross overthrows all power and prestige and posturing
—God is found in the most pitiful piteous of places!

                God upends the status quo,
not as a power play,
nor for bragging rights,
but to bring life to those perishing,
to save the condemned,
to love the least, the last, and the lost.

                The logic of Crucifixion gives way to the logic of the Cross…
When we look upon the poison we willingly drink out of habit or hate, we say, “no! Save us!”
You see, when those same 18% of Americans are asked about specific acts of political violence
—they back away,
“I wouldn’t shoot law makers in Minnesota, or the President in Butler.”
“I wouldn’t bludgeon a politician’s spouse with a hammer or firebomb their home or shoot up a congressional baseball game or invade the capital.”
—only 2%—still too high by far, but the concrete reality of these things…
once you pull back from algorithms and AI purposely showing you the worst of your neighbor
—the logic of crucifixion gives way to the message of the cross!
Like that snake Moses shows the people,
we are able to reflect on the venomous logic of our violent solutions
and shutter, and step back and be saved.

 

                The cross is a story told haltingly and with fear:
He preached good news and healed the sick, was executed as a criminal, and the tomb could not hold him—he is at the right hand of God—in him we find abundant life and rest at the last.
When the message of the cross does its work, there is power in weakness and wisdom in folly. Systems of logic snap up against each other, and the only one that remains is the one founded and bound by love.

                The cross, an opening of the eyes to a new way of reasoning
—if God is there on the cross—in the worst of it
—then isn’t that where we ought to look for him?!?
Should our eyes not scan the horizon for the hurt, the hated, the locked up and left out.
The cross, a pair of glasses to clarify what we see in front of us, especially our neighbor.

                For that matter, when we’re in the midst of those same hurts.
When the awful logic of crucifixion plays itself out upon our lives
and we end up on the cross.
Crushed by ongoing grief,
untangled by war and terrified by terror,
locked down or rushing away.

I want you to know he’s right there with you, with us!
I pray that we’ll be able to say,
at least in some fumbling foolish and weak way
—that’s how it always is,
say something like that anonymous 5^th century preacher once did:
This cross is the tree of my eternal salvation, nourishing, and delighting me. I take root in its roots, I am extended in its branches. In my tent I am shaded by its shade. Its flowers are my flowers; I am wholly delighted by its fruits. This cross is my nourishment when I am hungry, my fountain when I am thirsty, my covering when I am stripped, for my leaves are no longer fig leaves but the breath of life. This is the ladder of Jacob, the way of angels. This is my tree, wide as the firmament, which extends from earth to the heavens. It is the pillar of the universe, the support of the whole world.

Amen.