It's Wednesday of Holy Week. Tomorrow begins the Great Triduum -- Thursday, Friday, Saturday -- which brings Lent to its culmination. In that time, there's a lot of talk about "the cross". Jesus', particularly. And ours, generally.
If there's one thing I've learnt as a Christian throughout the past forty years, it's this: We tend to talk a lot about "the cross we've been 'called to bear'". So what is that cross? And what is its meaning?
One of the ways -- perhaps the commonest way -- some folks talk about the cross we bear is that it has something to do with suffering. In this view, "bearing the cross" means enduring some form of suffering, that we happen to be enduring -- a sickness, a sorrow or a person.
Thing is, I don't think the "cross" we've been called to bear has anything to do with those.
What do all those have in common? They're all quite natural -- terrible, maybe, but natural. They're things that every one of us will suffer at some point. They come with being human. The point here is that there's nothing particularly Christian about them. And that's why they have nothing to do with what the New Testament means. The "cross" isn't a natural phenomenon. It comes with being a disciple of Jesus. The crucified Jesus.
What's more, it's not just something that happens. In the earliest Gospel account, Mark, when Peter confesses Christ, and then points out he has no idea what that means, Jesus calls to the crowd: "If any want to be my followers, take up your cross, and come, follow me" (Mark 8.34).
See that? Apparently "take up your cross" isn't something that happens. It's something you decide. It's something you do. It's not only a choice. It's also an action. An obedience.
It's not an added extra. It's at the bloody heart of discipleship.
And this gets at a few things all our ways of thinking about "taking up the cross" misses.
First, according to the New Testament, this is something shameful to do. Nowadays, we sanitize the cross by coating it in gold and turning it into jewelry. We cast it in bronze to set on altar tables. We adorn it for wall hangings. But think about it. Why would Paul say he's "not ashamed of the Gospel" (Romans 1.16)? Because at the heart of the Gospel is a cross. And the cross is a shameful thing.
We're not just talking about an excruciating way to die. This way of death is reserved for the underclass and enemies of the state. For the poor scum of the earth. Stripped naked and hung up for all the the world to mock and spit at. An embarrassing and humiliating spectacle.
And following Jesus, we choose that.
When was the last time you were scolded for being Christian?
So, we're talking about a humiliating death. But there's more.
This isn't a death by natural cause. It's a death sentence handed down by the state, by courts, by the political machinery. When Jesus calls us to "take up the cross", he's not talking metaphor. He's warning us. We're likely to be hauled into court, made to offer testimony, hear a fearful verdict and be marched out for execution.
That's what it means to be Jesus' "witness". In Greek, a witness is a martus, from which we get our English word martyr.
This hints at something else we miss: The cross is inherently political. Being a political witness isn't for enthusiasts. It's the very essence of the Christian vocation. There are times when challenging the powers-that-be is part of witnessing Jesus.
In his classic Cost of Discipleship, Bonhoeffer wrote about "cheap grace". "Cheap grace", he explained, "means grace sold on the market of cheap wares. Cheap grace means a doctrine, a principle, a system. Cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ, living and incarnate". And further: "To endure the cross is not a tragedy; it is the suffering which is the fruit of an exclusive allegiance to Jesus Christ. When it comes, it is not an accident, but a necessity. It is not the sort of suffering which is inseparable from this mortal life, but the suffering which is an essential part of the Christian life. It is not suffering per se but suffering-and-rejection, and not rejection for any cause or conviction of our own, but for the sake of Christ".
That is what "bearing the cross" is all about.
Bearing the cross means picking it up and carrying it ... all the way to a scaffold. Politics, in this sense, is inseparable from discipleship.
This is why we confess Jesus is Lord. That confession is a challenge to all would-be, half-baked claimants. Including political ones.
Pilate's lies, fear-mongeeing, violence, scape-goating: These are never far from us. Whoever of us doesn't speak the truth and risk the consequences -- they've not taken up a cross like Jesus.
Granted, "What consequences?" is an honest question -- but usually one asked from the comfortable, detached position of privilege. Being lampooned or patronized is about as risky a response as most of us have. So I add a question: "At the moment?"
When was the last time our Lenten discipline was that risky?
So I conclude with a parable -- a true parable. The kingdom of God is like this. November 1989, a special unit of the El Salvador army forced its way into the Centro Monsenor Romero and shot dead the six theology professors who were living there. They also murdered the housekeeper and her fifteen-year-old daughter.
One of the murdered men was Juan Ramano Moreno. For reasons which cannot be discovered, a soldier dragged his body from the inner courtyard into the professors' living quarters and put it in the room of the famous liberation theologian Jon Sobrino (who was abroad at the time). In the process a book was knocked off the shelf; it lay in Juan Ramano's blood.
This blood-soaked book can now be seen in a little exhibition devoted to the memory of the murdered Salvadorean Jesuits. It bears the tile El Dios Crucifado, the Spanish translation of Jurgen Moltmann's book The Crucified God.
Wearing a cross is one thing. Bear it, another. The martyrs are our mentors in this faith. Because witnesses to this Crucified God are all we can be.