When Francis of Assisi had an audience with a Muslim ruler, he had to approach the potentate by walking on a carpet decorated with crosses. The Muslim taunted him for having trodden on the symbol of his Lord, but Francis replied, “There were three crosses on Calvary. I have walked on the other two.”
The cross of Jesus Christ was unique among all of the instruments of execution devised and used by humans in that it was the scene of God’s mighty work of reconciling man to himself. In fact, it was unique not only in the sense that nothing else like it ever happened, before or since, but also because what took place there was ep’ hapax, once for all: in the words of the Book of Common Prayer, Jesus Christ “made there, by his one oblation of himself, once offered, a full, perfect, and sufficient sacrifice for our sins and the sins of the whole world.…”
Yet, as the confrontation between Francis and the Bey of Tunis indicates, in another way Jesus’ cross was not at all unique—there were three on Calvary, and thousands lined the Roman roads when rebellious slaves were put to death. In that sense, the cross was common, all too common, and the remarkable thing about the cross of Jesus is not the singularity of his suffering or the cruelty of his death but who he was and is, and the absolutely unique effect of his death.
Through the centuries, Christians—and non-believers as well—have frequently been ill at ease with the cross. They have tried to stylize it or make an abstract symbol of it, thus relieving it of some of the oppressive sense of cruelty and suffering that an instrument of torture and execution conveys. In the tradition of Roman Catholicism and some liturgically minded denominations, the cross is commonly presented as a crucifix, bearing the Saviour’s tortured body, sometimes shown as still in torment, sometimes slack in death. The Eastern Orthodox tradition shows Christ on the cross, but glorious, crowned, and triumphant: the cross on which he suffered is really only a backdrop to his appearance in glory. Protestant symbolism tends to use an empty cross, from which the body of Jesus has been removed.
The common explanation for using the empty cross rather than the crucifix—aside from the obvious but no longer common one, reluctance to portray Jesus at all—is that we worship a risen, living Lord, not a dead one. This is true indeed. Yet the empty cross can appear abstract, intellectual, almost mathematical. The neo-orthodox theologians spoke of God’s intervention in human affairs as coming “perpendicularly from above,” and the upright of the cross can represent the vertical dimension of God’s intervention in history, intersecting the horizontal cross-beam, the plane of human existence.
Surely this description is valid, and yet it may seem to harbor the danger of presenting the event of the cross as a kind of abstraction, a mathematical concept rather than part and parcel of our human history in time and space. The Eastern tradition does not show us an impersonal cross without Christ, and yet it too may incline one to view the cross too abstractly, as only a symbol of Christ’s office as Saviour, rather as a shepherd’s crook traditionally depicts the office of bishop. The crucifix, on the other hand, may fix our attention on the terrible suffering alone, binding us in imagination to the process and what it cost, rather than encouraging us to see through and beyond to its destined and accomplished consummation.
In attempts to explain what is specifically human, what distinguishes human from other forms of existence, modern philosophers have fastened on the notions of time and of death. Of course other beings die, but man, as far as we know, is the only one who can anticipate death, reflect on it, and understand some of what it implies about his own significance. And man is aware of time, both as potentiality and as bondage; the animals are unaware of time. God, we suppose, is beyond time; mathematicians can suggest models by which it is impossible to conceive that all that we experience as time—past, present, and future—appears as constant present to God, as he stands beyond our finite space-time universe.
In going to the cross, Jesus was fully man in the experience of death, one of the fundamental realties of created human nature since the Fall. Even more, he also experienced, as we do, time. The trial, suffering, crucifixion, and death were not concepts, not mere symbols of office. They were realities that had to be experienced in sequence: no anticipating the triumph and glory without going through the suffering and death. And in this, too, Jesus showed that his love for us was strong enough to make him join us in that difficult and fateful journey through time and death, relinquishing his rightful position above or beyond it all.
The crucifix alone is an incomplete symbol, for it might hold us in our contemplation the prisoner of time, and keep us from seeing that Jesus’ struggle, fought out in time, has its consummation in the resurrection, ascension, second coming, and reign. But in the context of the other two depictions—Christ victorious against the backdrop of the cross, and the empty cross, with Christ ascended at God’s right hand—the sad crucifix, laden with Jesus’ broken body, reminds us that he experienced not only death but also the strange human bondage of time, earning for us a place in eternity.
Coping With Technology
Admiral Hyman G. Rickover recently spoke some words of caution that all of us whose daily lives are greatly affected by technology should hear. In a lecture at Notre Dame, Rickover expressed concern about innovations that have a potential for doing harm. He said it troubles him “that we are so easily pressured by purveyors of technology into permitting so-called progress to alter our lives without attempting to control it—as if technology were an irresistible force of nature to which we must submit.”
It is gratifying to hear such concern from one who is himself one of the great technologists of our day, having presided over the development of nuclear submarines. We think it particularly noteworthy that Rickover also calls for more ethical sensitivity on the part of engineers. He urges better education of engineers to reflect this, and also establishment of professional ethical codes.
The multiplicity of hazards inherent in our modern gadgetry is only too obvious. Last fall the Consumer Product Safety Commission came out with a “hazard index” of hundreds of items based on frequency and severity of injuries reported to hospital emergency rooms. Such guidelines from the government are often helpful and needed, but let’s not presume that this alone is going to solve the problem. The enforcement problem is too great, for one thing. A greater sense of responsibility is needed on the part of those who design and manufacture the stuff in the first place. Among these are undoubtedly many church people, so it is really an opportunity for the churches to infuse into their constituencies the heightened level of ethical sensitivity that is needed for our technology.
Another Singing Nun
The biggest hit in religious music so far this year is a record featuring an Australian nun in a contemporary music version of the Lord’s Prayer. She is thirty-six-year-old Sister Janet Mead, who heads the music and drama departments at St. Aloysius’ College in Adelaide. She has had a rock band and has led weekly rock masses attracting crowds of upwards of 2,000. She is currently working with the Australian Broadcasting Corporation in the production of a rock mass for television.
A & M Records describes the tune as having a solid rock beat, but most listeners find it a very mild kind of rock. The arrangement is by Arnold Strals, whose work is a welcome antidote to the preoccupation with the devil that our culture has been experiencing.
Ncc And Evangelism
Now that Key 73 is over, the Governing Board of the National Council of Churches has announced it plans to start something in evangelism (see News, page 42). We welcome the new interest, but we wish it had developed sooner. NCC leaders refused to have anything to do with the Key 73 evangelism effort even though a poll taken at the NCC General Assembly in Dallas in 1972 showed that a majority of the delegates favored participation.
There was another spurt of NCC interest in some kind of evangelism in 1966, when Billy Graham was a guest luncheon speaker and NCC president Arthur S. Flemming vowed there would be a major emphasis on evangelism during his three-year term of office. Nothing came of his promise. A small office of evangelism maintained by the NCC was subsequently closed down. We hope that the current plans hold more promise.
Part of the problem, of course, is that the NCC has no agreed-upon definition of evangelism. Some religious theoreticians might stretch the definition to include the adoption of political pronouncements, and others might even stretch it to embrace violent revolution. The most influential people in the NCC reject the idea that evangelism is simply the preaching of the Gospel with the aim of leading people to a saving faith in Jesus Christ.
The new evangelism program projected for the NCC hinges upon whether funds can be raised for it. But who is going to put up money for “evangelism” without a fairly clear idea of what is going to be done with it?
The Egg And You
Anyone who has received a Ukrainian Easter egg knows what a pleasure it is to examine these wonderfully decorated objects. Before working on the eggs with wax and dye, Ukrainian women have traditionally prayed “God bless us and help us.” The designs on the eggs often incorporate Christian symbolism—crosses and fish for Christ, wheat for the bread of life, triangles for the trinity. However, the egg-decorating custom is believed to have originated with the sun-worshiping Ukrainians as part of the celebration of the rebirth of spring before their conversion to Christianity in 988.
Evangelicals are inclined to take a somewhat jaundiced view of symbolism. But what could be more appropriate than to take the egg, which represents fertility, and embellish it with symbols of the living Lord, who made the egg and who gives us springtime and harvest?
We need to incorporate more symbols of our faith into our everyday lives, not fewer. Let a thousand eggs be decorated this Easter—all with reminders of God’s redeeming love and blessing.
The Appeal Of Robert Frost
The nice thing about the late great Robert Frost, the one-hundredth anniversary of whose birth we mark this week, was that his poems appealed to a wide variety of tastes. He was appreciated by those whose literary demands are considerable as well as by many who were otherwise indifferent to poetry. Recognition of his work took much longer than it should have. But he did win a great measure of acclaim before his death in 1963 (including a part on the program of President Kennedy’s inauguration). Four simple lines from “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” are the best known of all:
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
The Streaker Of Scripture
“Those young whippersnappers thinkin’ they’res’ smart!” You can almost hear the husky voices blending with the rustle, crinkle of a thousand evening newspapers. “Why, when I was a smart-alecky kid …” and the voice dissolves into a muffled chuckle over a madcap dash from a Model A to an awaiting Essex.
The words of the preacher come to mind that, indeed, “there is nothing new under the sun.” The only innovation brought to the old craze by this generation of running “buffs” seems to be the en masse lumbering (at best) of hundreds of would-be streakers who in their quest for college memories have blocked major roadways, such as U.S. Route 1 near the University of Maryland. No doubt, there is boldness as well as safety in numbers. After all, what do you say to 1,500 naked students ambling down the road?
The current craze that takes its place alongside telephone-booth-packing and goldfish-swallowing is deplorable, but it at least beats building-burning.
Scripture tells of at least one inadvertent streaker. In the Gospel of Mark, it says a young man (possibly the writer) bade his linen cloth a hasty adieu, narrowly escaping a Roman centurion as he fled the Garden of Gethsemane. Have you wondered where he went—home? to a friend’s?—and what his first words of explanation were? And what he related about the rest of the events that night, and the One who didn’t flee?
And Those Bearing Gifts
“God,” according to Paul, “loves a cheerful giver” (2 Cor. 9:7). And so do the churches, of course. So, it has seemed, does the United States government, which allows givers to deduct contributions made to churches and other charitable bodies from their taxable income, thus greatly increasing cheerfulness among them. But unfortunately the government, needing ever more money to finance its ever-increasing range of operations, is losing some of its cheerful attitude toward givers. Calling the deductibility of contributions a “loophole” and the taxes not collected on them “losses,” some government spokesmen, senators, and representatives are working to reduce and perhaps ultimately to eliminate the deductibility of contributions (see News, page 41).
If great numbers of people were contributing large portions of otherwise taxable income to charities, we might understand the practical reasons for the government’s concern. In fact, though, contributions by those who itemize deductions average in the neighborhood of 3 per cent of the individual’s gross income—less than a third of the traditional biblical tithe. Not much new revenue would be gained if such deductions were abolished, and a great deal would be lost. After all, private and religious organizations provide many socially valuable services at lower cost than the government could possibly do. We suspect that if non-profit organizations, including churches, but also schools, hospitals, and benevolences of various kinds, could no longer receive tax-free money, the government would ultimately wind up having to pay more to duplicate the services they perform than it took in in taxes—despite the fact that it would obviously make no effort to duplicate those services that are purely religious rather than secular.
The prospect that dropping tax deductibility would cost the government more than it would bring in is real and ought to be carefully considered. But over and above that, we challenge the idea that taxes not imposed on charitable contributions may properly be called a “loss” to the government, as though the government had a natural right to all the income produced within its borders. An individual’s income may well be a guide to the amount of contribution he can reasonably be asked to make to the cost of government. (Such “contributions”—unlike charitable donations—are obligatory, of course.) When an individual voluntarily contributes to church and charity, he voluntarily limits his income. Up to a point, at least, the government should allow such contributions as a matter of individual right, not of government concession, and not seek to impose obligatory additional taxes on income that the earner has already given away voluntarily.
The government may reasonably say—as it does now—that at least part of an individual’s income must be taxed, no matter how much he contributes to charity. But it should always admit that at least a part of his income, not less than the biblical tithe, may be contributed to charity without being taxed by the state.
Capable Of Meaningful Life, Anyone?
The decision of the United States Supreme Court of January 22, 1973, in effect establishing the principle of abortion on demand, used some language that has great potential for development. The state, the seven assenting justices proclaim, has no “important and legitimate interest” in protecting anyone (or anything) that lacks “the capability of meaningful life” (Roe v. Wade, X).
The language of the chief and associate justices is intended to apply only to unborn life. Nevertheless, the criterion “meaningful life” may show an unexpected capability of meaningful expansion. After all, the momentous “right to privacy,” from which the justices derived their conclusion that a woman and a physician, privatissime, may lawfully “terminate” the life of the fetus in utero, originates, according to Roe v. Wade, in an 1891 Court decision that for the Union Pacific Railroad to strip and search a Mr. Bolton was an assault on his person. If the criterion of privacy protecting one from a humiliating bodily search can be extended to privacy permitting one to “terminate” unborn life without interference, then who can predict the lengths to which the criterion of “meaningfulness” may yet be taken?
Dr. Alan F. Guttmacher, his long fight for the right to terminate unborn life apparently won, has now taken up euthanasia. Supporters of this cause appeal for the right to terminate other “meaningless” life—such as those in advanced senile degeneracy, uncontrollable pain, or prolonged comatose conditions. It should be noted that what the euthanasia camp calls the right to “death with dignity” is not the right to be allowed to die, or to let someone die, naturally instead of resorting to “heroic” measures to prolong life by hours, days, or weeks. Allowing a dying person to die without resorting to drastic measures to maintain his vital signs is not euthanasia; it is neither morally nor legally wrong. Euthanasia involves deliberate killing (“termination,” to use the language favored by the Court). There is a vital distinction between the decision not to attempt to prolong life beyond a certain point and the decision to “terminate” it at a certain point.
According to the study Your Death Warrant? Implications of Euthanasia, edited by Jonathan Gould and Lord Graigmyle (Arlington, 1973), the various proposals for establishing euthanasia in Britain and the United States generally provide that the patient must be an adult suffering from an “irremediable condition,” for example: (a) physical illness thought in the patient’s case to be incurable and terminal, and (b) grievous physical affliction occasioning the patient serious injury and/or disability, thought to be permanent and expected to cause him severe distress; (c) physical brain damage or deterioration to the point that the patient’s normal mental faculties are severely and irreparably impaired. While patients fulfilling conditions a or b might themselves ask for euthanasia, in case c the decision would have to be made by “competent authorities.” No present proposals call for applying euthanasia to those who object, but attitudes change. Back in the early 1960s, for instance, Dr. Guttmacher was writing that a pregnant woman’s physician has two patients, “the woman and her baby,” but since then baby seems to have lost its standing.
The biblical standard is not “meaningfulness” but innocence. From Genesis on, the taking of innocent human life is forbidden and placed under divine condemnation. American courts have shown a great diffidence about whether a person’s being guilty of a “capital” crime (murder, for example) is a criterion for taking his life. But they are showing considerable enthusiasm for the far more arbitrary and ambiguous criterion of “meaningfulness.”
The 1973 Supreme Court decision has already resulted in 1.5 million legal abortions. Those opposed to abortion on demand were not prepared to take up the fight against it before it became a million-fold reality. Perhaps the abortion decision can be overthrown; we hope that it can. But time marches on, and now a proeuthanasia climate is being generated by many of the same people who prepared the way for abortion on demand, using many of the same methods. It is high time to start working against it.
Take Time To Be Useful
According to a recent study made by Allen Nauss at Concordia Seminary (Springfield, Illinois), statistics show that ministers who remain in a pastorate for less than a four-year stay are less effective in virtually all areas: pastoral care, counseling, interpersonal relations, evangelism, religious education, preaching, conduct of worship, and administrative activity. Moreover, pastoral tours longer than twelve years apparently do not diminish effectiveness, contrary to what is often alleged.
In the early Christian Church, a priest who left his first parish was thought to be just as bad as one who ran out on his first wife. In Puritan times it was common for a pastor to spend his whole active ministry in one parish, and this practice is still followed in some quarters. Admittedly, excessively long pastorates can lead to problems; we know of some once powerful preachers who hung on to their pulpits long after they had ceased to be effective. From a statistical perspective, however, it would appear that the Church today has more of a problem with short pastorates than with long ones. It takes time to get to know people, to build relationships, to win confidence. In a day of exaggerated mobility, clergymen should be encouraged to think about the value of stability in the pastoral ministry.
