In John 6:54 Jesus made this remarkable statement: "Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day." An early church leader who may have studied under John at Ephesus and would have known this teaching well was Ignatius of Antioch. Shortly after the turn of the first century he was the leading bishop, or elder, of the church at Antioch of Syria. He was arrested by the Roman authorities and sent to Rome where he died in the Colosseum as a Christian martyr during the reign of Emperor Trajan. As he traveled toward Rome he wrote several letters and one was sent to Ephesus where he might have been with John. Ignatius may have been thinking of John 6:54 when he said this about the Lord's Supper: " ... and break one loaf, which is the medicine of immortality, and the antidote which wards off death but yields continuous life in union with Jesus Christ."
I remembered his words one night last week. About a month ago I went to see my primary care doctor for a physical exam. I have been blessed with good health and had not seen my doctor for a long time. Strangely, after getting a good report, within two weeks I was struck down by a vicious stomach bug, sprained a shoulder muscle, and then developed a kind of asthmatic bronchitis. I don't like being sick. I am not used to it. It is an unpleasant experience, as I'm sure all of you know. It drove me back to my doctor and to my pharmacist.
Last week in the middle of the night I was thinking about this and at the same time wondering what to use for today's communion meditation when the idea struck me that there is a good analogy here. Sin is like a sickness in several ways. It is like a sickness in that it affects all of us. Is there anyone here who has not been sick? And so it is with sin. As Paul said, "All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God."
Sin is like a sickness because it leaves us feeling terrible. We hurt in a lot of ways. And sin is like a sickness because it makes us do what we don't want to do and keeps us from doing what we want to do. Paul said exactly that about sin in Romans 7 and then raised this plaintive question: "Wretched man that I am! Who will set me free from the body of this death?" Which points to another similarity. Sin, like sickness, leads to death. If one sickness doesn't get you, another one will. And, of course, the Bible is clear on the ultimate effect of sin. As Paul said in Romans 5:12, "... death spread to all, because all have sinned."
When Paul cried out, "Who will set me free from the body of this death?" he answered his own question immediately with the exclamation, "Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord." Sin, like sickness, requires both a physician and a pharmacist. In Jesus Christ we have both. As we come to this table he is our Good Physician, he is our "Medicine of Immortality." "This," he said of the bread, "is my body..."; "this," he said of the cup, "is my blood." And to us all he says, 'Eat, Drink, and Live forevermore.'
Monday, March 4, 2013
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
A THING OF BEAUTY
There was nothing beautiful about a Roman cross. It was made out of rough lumber, a simple cross beam, either at the top or nailed on part way down. Some had a protruding piece at the bottom where the victim could rest his feet. Crosses were not attractive things that you would use to decorate your house.
Nor was the person hanging there a thing of beauty. A beaten, bloody body is not a pleasant sight. In a prophetic word about the suffering servant Isaiah said, "he had no beauty that we should look upon him" (53:2).
But today the cross is used as a thing of beauty. I tried to find a picture of a typical Roman cross on the internet but what I found looked too nice. We use precious metals to make it into jewelry with which we adorn our bodies. Or we use fine lumber and make beautiful replicas to decorate our churches.
For a long time this struck me as ironic. Picturing or thinking of the cross as beautiful surely must be misleading. How can a cruel and ugly instrument of execution be turned into a thing of beauty? How can we do such a thing?
Well, we can't -- but God can. He transformed it by placing Jesus upon it. In his book, Beauty Will Save The World, Brian Zahnd points out: "The unique form of Christianity is the cruciform -- Christ upon the cross, arms outstretched in offered embrace, forgiving the world of its sins. This is the beauty that saves the world, and the symbol of this saving grace is the cross."
He goes on to say: "That the Roman cross, an instrument of physical torture and psychological terror, could ever become an object of beauty representing faith, hope and love is an amazing miracle of transformation. Every cross adorning a church is in itself a sermon -- a sermon proclaiming that if Christ can transform the Roman instrument of execution into a thing of beauty, there is hope that in Christ all things can be made beautiful" (60).
However, it must be said, that to see the beauty of the cross in all of its glory, as with many beautiful images, we must stand in the right place. It must be viewed from this side of the resurrection. It must be seen through the prism of the resurrection. From that perspective we can join with the hymn writer to say:
As we see him on the cross let us also hear his words spoken at the last supper: 'this is my body, given for you; this ... is my blood shed for you.' How beautiful is that!
Nor was the person hanging there a thing of beauty. A beaten, bloody body is not a pleasant sight. In a prophetic word about the suffering servant Isaiah said, "he had no beauty that we should look upon him" (53:2).
But today the cross is used as a thing of beauty. I tried to find a picture of a typical Roman cross on the internet but what I found looked too nice. We use precious metals to make it into jewelry with which we adorn our bodies. Or we use fine lumber and make beautiful replicas to decorate our churches.
For a long time this struck me as ironic. Picturing or thinking of the cross as beautiful surely must be misleading. How can a cruel and ugly instrument of execution be turned into a thing of beauty? How can we do such a thing?
Well, we can't -- but God can. He transformed it by placing Jesus upon it. In his book, Beauty Will Save The World, Brian Zahnd points out: "The unique form of Christianity is the cruciform -- Christ upon the cross, arms outstretched in offered embrace, forgiving the world of its sins. This is the beauty that saves the world, and the symbol of this saving grace is the cross."
He goes on to say: "That the Roman cross, an instrument of physical torture and psychological terror, could ever become an object of beauty representing faith, hope and love is an amazing miracle of transformation. Every cross adorning a church is in itself a sermon -- a sermon proclaiming that if Christ can transform the Roman instrument of execution into a thing of beauty, there is hope that in Christ all things can be made beautiful" (60).
However, it must be said, that to see the beauty of the cross in all of its glory, as with many beautiful images, we must stand in the right place. It must be viewed from this side of the resurrection. It must be seen through the prism of the resurrection. From that perspective we can join with the hymn writer to say:
In the old rugged cross, stained with blood so divine,
A wondrous beauty I see.
For twas on that old cross Jesus suffered and died
To pardon and sanctify me.
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
"ALL THINGS NEW"
Today, in our series of 31 studies in The Story, we have come to the end, which, in some ways, is only the beginning. In reviewing Revelation 21 I was struck by verse 5, "He who sits on the throne said, 'Behold, I am making all things new.'" Note that he says, "all things new, " and not "all new things." There is some continuity implied. This led me to look at what all of these "things made new" might be. And this led me to a much deeper appreciation of what must be included when we hear Jesus say, "This cup is the new covenant in my blood which is shed for you" (Lk 22:20). Here, in brief, is the journey that I took through the New Testament looking at these "things made new."
It begins at the end. In Revelation 21:2 we see a new Jerusalem, the holy city, that encompasses the entire world of God's people and in which there is no evil.
Just before that we see in Revelation 21:1, "A new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and first earth have passed away, ...". Here is the location of the new Jerusalem -- a new heaven and a new earth.
A new heaven, new earth, and new Jerusalem require a different kind of resident. Thus, we have Paul saying in 2 Corinthians 5:17, "if anyone is in Christ he is a new creature; the old things passed away; behold, new things have come." To be this new creature, Jesus said, requires a new birth. As he told Nicodemus, "You must be born anew (again, from above) of water and the Spirit" (Jn 3:3,5).
And this results in a new name. In Revelation 3:12 the Son of Man, the Lord of the church, promises: "He who overcomes, I will make him a pillar in the temple of my God .... I will write on him the name of my God and the name of the city of my God, the New Jerusalem. And I will write on him my new name."
It was to make all of this possible that Jesus gave us a new covenant. The nature of a covenant is to bind together two or more parties. In the new covenant we are bound together with God and with one another. Thus, the Lord's supper becomes a "communion," a "participation," a "fellowship."
And in this fellowship all of these "things made new" are already upon us. Already we are "new creatures in Christ." Already we are residents of and have a foretaste of the new heaven and new earth and of the new Jerusalem. All because in our baptism we have said yes to the new covenant provided for us by the one who said, "this cup is the new covenant in my blood which is shed for you."
This calls for a celebration. Lets do it now as we partake of the Lord's Supper.
It begins at the end. In Revelation 21:2 we see a new Jerusalem, the holy city, that encompasses the entire world of God's people and in which there is no evil.
Just before that we see in Revelation 21:1, "A new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and first earth have passed away, ...". Here is the location of the new Jerusalem -- a new heaven and a new earth.
A new heaven, new earth, and new Jerusalem require a different kind of resident. Thus, we have Paul saying in 2 Corinthians 5:17, "if anyone is in Christ he is a new creature; the old things passed away; behold, new things have come." To be this new creature, Jesus said, requires a new birth. As he told Nicodemus, "You must be born anew (again, from above) of water and the Spirit" (Jn 3:3,5).
And this results in a new name. In Revelation 3:12 the Son of Man, the Lord of the church, promises: "He who overcomes, I will make him a pillar in the temple of my God .... I will write on him the name of my God and the name of the city of my God, the New Jerusalem. And I will write on him my new name."
It was to make all of this possible that Jesus gave us a new covenant. The nature of a covenant is to bind together two or more parties. In the new covenant we are bound together with God and with one another. Thus, the Lord's supper becomes a "communion," a "participation," a "fellowship."
And in this fellowship all of these "things made new" are already upon us. Already we are "new creatures in Christ." Already we are residents of and have a foretaste of the new heaven and new earth and of the new Jerusalem. All because in our baptism we have said yes to the new covenant provided for us by the one who said, "this cup is the new covenant in my blood which is shed for you."
This calls for a celebration. Lets do it now as we partake of the Lord's Supper.
Monday, November 19, 2012
ON SEEING JESUS
Do you tend to be more right brain oriented in the way you think, or left brain? That is, do you think in pictures and images or in more didactic, logical ways? Even those who think in more abstract terms than in pictures can still conjure up an image of something. If I say, I can see in my mind's eye the foam flying as a huge wave crashes into the rocks at Depoe Bay, you can probably see one too -- maybe not at Depoe Bay but someplace in your experience.
When Jesus took the bread and the cup at the Last Supper and said, "Do this in remembrance of me," how do you think he meant that? He was a Jewish man speaking to Jewish people. It is well known among students of how people think that there is a difference between Western, or Greek ways of thinking, and Eastern or Semitic ways of thinking. Its the difference between Aristotelian logic and prophetic imagery.
When Jesus said, "remember me," I don't think he was saying, "remember the main points in my sermon on the mount." Or, "be sure you can boil down each parable to a single proposition." He probably meant, remember me as a person -- what I did, how I acted, how I felt, and how I related to people. Remember what I was really like -- who I was.
How can we do this? We can think in pictures, and pictures are created by stories. Can you see him at age 12, sitting in the Temple area, talking to learned teachers who were amazed at his understanding and his answers? Here is a sharp, perceptive person. Or can you see him kneeling at the tomb of Lazarus and weeping? Here is deep grief and sorrow. Can you see him looking out over a huge crowd of people, most of them too poor to bring a lunch with them, and saying, "give them something to eat?" Here is compassion.
On my computer I have hundreds of photos, organized into folders. Some for family, others for relatives, and so on. One of my favorites contains pictures of golf courses I have played. I use it as a screen saver and the pictures play across the computer reminding me of beautiful places where I have enjoyed a good walk -- if not a good game. Frances has a more often used place for pictures that remind us of our grandchildren and others -- the refrigerator door.
In our minds, we need to have a folder of Jesus pictures. I'm sure that you already have one, but it can strengthened. How? By reading the Gospels and when you come to a story, stop and picture it in your mind. Don't try to intellectualize it so much as to simply notice the action, the interchange of words, the reactions of people to Jesus, how he related to them, and how he might have sounded as he spoke. Let the story come alive in your mind and you will develop a reservoir of pictures that will remind you of him.
To be sure, the cross and all that he went through on our behalf is primary. As we see him hanging there, we hear his words, "this is my body, give for you; this is my blood shed for you; do this in remembrance of me."
When Jesus took the bread and the cup at the Last Supper and said, "Do this in remembrance of me," how do you think he meant that? He was a Jewish man speaking to Jewish people. It is well known among students of how people think that there is a difference between Western, or Greek ways of thinking, and Eastern or Semitic ways of thinking. Its the difference between Aristotelian logic and prophetic imagery.
When Jesus said, "remember me," I don't think he was saying, "remember the main points in my sermon on the mount." Or, "be sure you can boil down each parable to a single proposition." He probably meant, remember me as a person -- what I did, how I acted, how I felt, and how I related to people. Remember what I was really like -- who I was.
How can we do this? We can think in pictures, and pictures are created by stories. Can you see him at age 12, sitting in the Temple area, talking to learned teachers who were amazed at his understanding and his answers? Here is a sharp, perceptive person. Or can you see him kneeling at the tomb of Lazarus and weeping? Here is deep grief and sorrow. Can you see him looking out over a huge crowd of people, most of them too poor to bring a lunch with them, and saying, "give them something to eat?" Here is compassion.
On my computer I have hundreds of photos, organized into folders. Some for family, others for relatives, and so on. One of my favorites contains pictures of golf courses I have played. I use it as a screen saver and the pictures play across the computer reminding me of beautiful places where I have enjoyed a good walk -- if not a good game. Frances has a more often used place for pictures that remind us of our grandchildren and others -- the refrigerator door.
In our minds, we need to have a folder of Jesus pictures. I'm sure that you already have one, but it can strengthened. How? By reading the Gospels and when you come to a story, stop and picture it in your mind. Don't try to intellectualize it so much as to simply notice the action, the interchange of words, the reactions of people to Jesus, how he related to them, and how he might have sounded as he spoke. Let the story come alive in your mind and you will develop a reservoir of pictures that will remind you of him.
To be sure, the cross and all that he went through on our behalf is primary. As we see him hanging there, we hear his words, "this is my body, give for you; this is my blood shed for you; do this in remembrance of me."
Thursday, September 27, 2012
PARDON ACCEPTED
When is a pardon not a pardon?
Andrew Jackson was our seventh President; he served from 1829 to 1837. His nickname was "Old Hickory," and he is well remembered for his exploits in the war of 1812, particularly the Battle of New Orleans. He was a rough-hewn Tennessee farmer, and he changed, at least temporarily, the way the Presidency was used and viewed by people.
In 1830, Jackson had an experience which, so far as I know, has never befallen another President. A man named George Wilson held up a coach carrying the U.S. mail, and in the process shot and killed the driver. He was tried and convicted, and sentenced to hang. For reasons we do not know, President Jackson issued a Presidential pardon for Wilson. But a strange thing happened -- Wilson refused the pardon. He was guilty, and he did not feel that he deserved a pardon.
Jackson was perplexed. He asked the Supreme Court to rule on the matter. Chief Justice John Marshall wrote the Court's response: "A pardon is merely a scrap of paper unless it is accepted by the pardoned." Jackson's pardon of Wilson was worthless because Wilson refused it.
Micah 7:18 says, "Who is a God like thee, who pardons iniquity and passes over the rebellious act of the remnant of his possession? He does not retain his anger forever, because he delights in unchanging love."
God's pardon is far more enduring than a "scrap of paper," but it isn't a pardon until we accept it. No matter how willing God is to forgive, his forgiveness is of no value to us unless we accept it. We do that initially when we accept Christ as our Savior, and we accept it again each time we come to the Table, remembering the sacrifice that Jesus made for us and renewing our commitment to live as He would have us live. As with George Wilson, if we do not accept the pardon, the sentence stands.
(My thanks to Mel Mead who first used this meditation and credited Hugh Poland, Secret Place, Oct 10, 2006, for the original idea).
Andrew Jackson was our seventh President; he served from 1829 to 1837. His nickname was "Old Hickory," and he is well remembered for his exploits in the war of 1812, particularly the Battle of New Orleans. He was a rough-hewn Tennessee farmer, and he changed, at least temporarily, the way the Presidency was used and viewed by people.
In 1830, Jackson had an experience which, so far as I know, has never befallen another President. A man named George Wilson held up a coach carrying the U.S. mail, and in the process shot and killed the driver. He was tried and convicted, and sentenced to hang. For reasons we do not know, President Jackson issued a Presidential pardon for Wilson. But a strange thing happened -- Wilson refused the pardon. He was guilty, and he did not feel that he deserved a pardon.
Jackson was perplexed. He asked the Supreme Court to rule on the matter. Chief Justice John Marshall wrote the Court's response: "A pardon is merely a scrap of paper unless it is accepted by the pardoned." Jackson's pardon of Wilson was worthless because Wilson refused it.
Micah 7:18 says, "Who is a God like thee, who pardons iniquity and passes over the rebellious act of the remnant of his possession? He does not retain his anger forever, because he delights in unchanging love."
God's pardon is far more enduring than a "scrap of paper," but it isn't a pardon until we accept it. No matter how willing God is to forgive, his forgiveness is of no value to us unless we accept it. We do that initially when we accept Christ as our Savior, and we accept it again each time we come to the Table, remembering the sacrifice that Jesus made for us and renewing our commitment to live as He would have us live. As with George Wilson, if we do not accept the pardon, the sentence stands.
(My thanks to Mel Mead who first used this meditation and credited Hugh Poland, Secret Place, Oct 10, 2006, for the original idea).
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
WE BECOME WHAT WE WORSHIP
In our reading of The Story we have come to Second Kings and the devastating consequences for Israel of their continuing idol worship. Last Sunday Nick spoke on this topic. I like to see the text during the sermon but I had come to church without my Bible so I looked around and found a Good News Version. As I followed along in the text I was struck by how this version worded one sentence: "They worshiped worthless idols and became worthless themselves" (1 Kings 17:15). Its true! We become what we worship. If we worship worthless idols we will become worthless ourselves.
As I thought about a communion meditation for today this truth was still kicking around in my mind. It reminded me that the Apostle Paul had a similar concern and issued a warning about idolatry in connection with the Lord's Supper. In 1 Corinthians 10 he cites the disastrous results of idol worship for Israel and then says, in verses 6-7, "Now these things happened as examples for us, so that we would not crave evil things as they also craved. Do not be idolaters, as some of them were ...." Then, in verse 14 he adds a second admonition to flee from idolatry.
Now notice how he connects this with the Lord's Supper. We can see this clearly in Peterson's, The Message, by simply reading Paul's words starting in verse 15:
I assume I'm addressing believers now who are mature. Draw your own conclusions: When we drink the cup of blessing, aren't we taking into ourselves the blood, the very life of Christ? And isn't it the same with the loaf of bread we break and eat? Don't we take into ourselves the body, the very life, of Christ? Because there is one loaf, our many-ness becomes one-ness -- Christ doesn't become fragmented in us. Rather, we become unified in him. We don't reduce Christ to what we are; he raises us to what he is. That's basically what happened even in old Israel -- those who ate the sacrifices offered on our God's altar entered into God's action at the altar.
Do you see the difference? Sacrifices offered to idols are offered to nothing, for what's the idol but a nothing? Or worse than nothing, a minus, a demon! I don't want you to become part of something that reduces you to less than yourself. And you can't have it both ways, banqueting with the Master one day and slumming with demons the next. Besides, the Master won't put up with it. He wants us -- all or nothing. Do you think you can get off with anything less?
We become like Christ -- or we can become like the false gods we worship -- we can't have it both ways. That's why we come here each Sunday. To remind ourselves who we worship and whose we are. As The Message puts it, When we drink the cup of blessing ... and eat the loaf, don't we take into ourselves the very life of Christ? We become what we worship ... and we worship God in Christ alone.
As I thought about a communion meditation for today this truth was still kicking around in my mind. It reminded me that the Apostle Paul had a similar concern and issued a warning about idolatry in connection with the Lord's Supper. In 1 Corinthians 10 he cites the disastrous results of idol worship for Israel and then says, in verses 6-7, "Now these things happened as examples for us, so that we would not crave evil things as they also craved. Do not be idolaters, as some of them were ...." Then, in verse 14 he adds a second admonition to flee from idolatry.
Now notice how he connects this with the Lord's Supper. We can see this clearly in Peterson's, The Message, by simply reading Paul's words starting in verse 15:
I assume I'm addressing believers now who are mature. Draw your own conclusions: When we drink the cup of blessing, aren't we taking into ourselves the blood, the very life of Christ? And isn't it the same with the loaf of bread we break and eat? Don't we take into ourselves the body, the very life, of Christ? Because there is one loaf, our many-ness becomes one-ness -- Christ doesn't become fragmented in us. Rather, we become unified in him. We don't reduce Christ to what we are; he raises us to what he is. That's basically what happened even in old Israel -- those who ate the sacrifices offered on our God's altar entered into God's action at the altar.
Do you see the difference? Sacrifices offered to idols are offered to nothing, for what's the idol but a nothing? Or worse than nothing, a minus, a demon! I don't want you to become part of something that reduces you to less than yourself. And you can't have it both ways, banqueting with the Master one day and slumming with demons the next. Besides, the Master won't put up with it. He wants us -- all or nothing. Do you think you can get off with anything less?
We become like Christ -- or we can become like the false gods we worship -- we can't have it both ways. That's why we come here each Sunday. To remind ourselves who we worship and whose we are. As The Message puts it, When we drink the cup of blessing ... and eat the loaf, don't we take into ourselves the very life of Christ? We become what we worship ... and we worship God in Christ alone.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
The Way of the Cross
Every summer for ten years I went back packing in the Wallow Mountains Eagle Cap wilderness. After a week of sitting on logs and sleeping on the ground I longed for a chair to sit back in and a comfortable bed. We are comfort loving creatures. We seek ease and pleasure and try to avoid difficulty and unpleasantness. And yet, if we stop to think about it, there seems to be a law written into the universe that nothing really good comes without struggle, or even pain and suffering.
Look at the great athletes who have been in Eugene for the Olympic trials these past ten days. How many stories have we read about the long hours, working to the point of exhaustion, and then running long distances with heart pounding, lungs bursting, muscles aching, to the finish line -- and then the joy.
Or look at the mother-to-be. Weeks, sometimes months of morning sickness, a growing discomfort, and finally, labor pains. I knew a young minister who once said to a woman who was having a long, difficult delivery, "I know how you feel." You can imagine her response.
While it can be misapplied when exercising there is a great truth behind the slogan, "no pain, no gain."
This truth is certainly seen in the cross. There is an old gospel hymn that says, "The Way of the Cross Leads Home." What is the way of the cross? We could well answer: it is the way that Jesus took for us. As another hymn says, "Jesus Paid It All." The way of the cross is the way Jesus took to bring salvation to us, a way that involved sacrifice and suffering.
But the way of the cross can apply to our journey as well. In fact, Jesus said to those around him, "If anyone desires to come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross and follow me" (Matt 16). The way of the cross is for us as well.
Last week I attended some of the Oregon Christian Convention at Turner and was struck by a speaker's statement that expressed exactly what I wanted to say in this communion meditation. He was talking about how the cross was central to Paul's thinking in 1 Corinthians and said something like this: the cross is not just a fact to be appreciated; it is a way of life to be practiced.
The symbolism of the cross was transformed by Christ. It was a symbol in the Roman world of criminality and guilt on the one hand and of cruelty and persecution on the other. But Christ made it a symbol of self-giving sacrifice, of giving one's life on behalf of others, and an expression of unconditional love. This is the way of the cross, the way that Jesus asked us to travel with him. It is not easy or comfortable but the way of the cross leads home.
Look at the great athletes who have been in Eugene for the Olympic trials these past ten days. How many stories have we read about the long hours, working to the point of exhaustion, and then running long distances with heart pounding, lungs bursting, muscles aching, to the finish line -- and then the joy.
Or look at the mother-to-be. Weeks, sometimes months of morning sickness, a growing discomfort, and finally, labor pains. I knew a young minister who once said to a woman who was having a long, difficult delivery, "I know how you feel." You can imagine her response.
While it can be misapplied when exercising there is a great truth behind the slogan, "no pain, no gain."
This truth is certainly seen in the cross. There is an old gospel hymn that says, "The Way of the Cross Leads Home." What is the way of the cross? We could well answer: it is the way that Jesus took for us. As another hymn says, "Jesus Paid It All." The way of the cross is the way Jesus took to bring salvation to us, a way that involved sacrifice and suffering.
But the way of the cross can apply to our journey as well. In fact, Jesus said to those around him, "If anyone desires to come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross and follow me" (Matt 16). The way of the cross is for us as well.
Last week I attended some of the Oregon Christian Convention at Turner and was struck by a speaker's statement that expressed exactly what I wanted to say in this communion meditation. He was talking about how the cross was central to Paul's thinking in 1 Corinthians and said something like this: the cross is not just a fact to be appreciated; it is a way of life to be practiced.
The symbolism of the cross was transformed by Christ. It was a symbol in the Roman world of criminality and guilt on the one hand and of cruelty and persecution on the other. But Christ made it a symbol of self-giving sacrifice, of giving one's life on behalf of others, and an expression of unconditional love. This is the way of the cross, the way that Jesus asked us to travel with him. It is not easy or comfortable but the way of the cross leads home.
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