Author: Brad

I originally wrote this for our Providence Associates’ weekly e-news. It appeared there on September 28, 2021.

In a radio interview, Sir Elton John (age 74) discussed how he almost immediately went to the task of finding ways to make music in the environment of social distancing. He contributed his piano genius to another artist’s recording via Zoom and met with others in the studio behind glass partitions. There were all manner of new ways to create and collaborate. With a talent group he had previously mentored, some of his greatest hits (and a few lesser known ones) were chopped into musical pieces and reassembled into a new song, as if working a jigsaw puzzle. The catchy song of recycled parts has made its way onto the “Billboard Top 100”, and someone will likely say it speaks to their soul.

The phrase, “sing a new song” appears repeatedly in scripture, especially in the Psalms. Growing up in church, it puzzled me: why a new song? Sure, God wants us to sing, but a new song every time? I admit, I may have been a bit naïve and too literal at first. As one who needn’t be evangelized, I had to discover a fitting context for the concept of conversion. I already lived the life Jesus wanted for me — or so I thought, and just what’s wrong with these praise songs we’ve been singing that we need a new one? (Definitely too literal.) This metaphor to live differently than the world around me eventually made sense as I came to know growth as a necessity when living for God and others. Today, I’m thinking that maybe I do need a new song.

The Holy Spirit urges us to take part in Creation. Our part may be putting hand to clay or canvas, making music, or crafting elegant prose. Whether we claim or lack certain talents, we all can be present. Perhaps that is providing safe, comfortable space and feeding people well. It could be listening compassionately or providing encouragement. Maybe we take a stand (or a knee) to call out injustice, but it’s also kindly smiling to a stranger on the street or just sitting with someone in their time of need. And when we can’t easily rise from chair or bed, our prayer can. What and how need not be novel, even for things done countless times before. This time, new circumstances; maybe a new person or response; but definitely (re)new(ed) intentions. Any moment’s grace is never old but always a new creation.

Recycling is making new that which we’ve already used. Can I sing – or BE – a new song, even with old recycled parts? It may not be a chart-topping hit, but it most certainly will touch a soul somewhere.

In Mark 8:34, part of today’s Gospel reading, Jesus says, “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me.”

Take up your cross. We are pretty familiar with the phrase. It is in the hymns we sing, sermons that are preached, prayers we’ve prayed, and we have probably used the phrase on various occasions to describe some undesirable or unpleasant task or situation. I don’t think we really grasp what it means, though.

For the disciples following Jesus on this particular day, this was a harsh and shocking statement to hear. I can almost imagine hearing their thoughts: “What is he saying?! He wants us to willingly take on a cross? That’s gruesome; grotesque; and definitely not what I signed up for on this trip. Is he going to purposely try to get us killed? This guy is nuts!”

We have to remember what the word cross would have meant for these people. I think for us, we too often hear “the cross” and imagine the little necklace some people wear or the one that adorns the steeple of our church building. Those are beautiful signs of hope and peace. For those following Jesus, it wasn’t even close to what we think about. It was torture, death, and humiliation. It wasn’t just an end of their earthly life, but it was the worst possible way to go – and you were pretty much begging to die before you even got to the point of being placed on the cross. Imagine having your clothes ripped from you, possibly being beaten by some pretty terrible instruments that burned and tore at the flesh, being forced to labor under the weight of this massive wooden beam as you were made to carry it – weak, naked, and fully exposed to the jeers and embarrassment of walking by your family and friends in the public street, only to make it to the destination and have your body further abused by metal spikes to hold you to this erected device meant to be your demise. I think the Romans, in fact, almost hoped you didn’t make it that far; it was probably preferable and most likely that many people died en route to the place they would hang upon a cross. It would be less work and hassle for them if you died in the street. Of course, the morbid and wicked ones also probably looked forward to the excruciatingly awful and profane way for you to die – you would either suffocate hanging there or drown in your own fluids. You would have to cause yourself no small amount of agony to raise your body enough that your lungs would function to breathe and expel the build-up of what was no doubt a mixture of natural and unnatural substances flooding them. And, just in case you didn’t die fast enough, after they let you hang there for as long as they could possibly wait – days, maybe, for the particularly strong – they would come along with clubs and spears to break bones and pierce you further to speed things along – but not too much. You still had to die under your body’s own process.

When the disciples heard, “take up your cross”, this might have been a few of the things going through their minds. No wonder Peter took Jesus aside and tried to talk some sense into him. Can you imagine the act of faith it took to keep following him after he not only said all this, but called you Satan for arguing about it with him? The disciples had to learn the hard way exactly what Jesus meant. They witnessed (either directly or indirectly) what would happen to Jesus himself. The Twelve Apostles themselves¹ Whether you count Judas or not, 12 of 13 Apostles – Matthias being #13 – all died unnatural deaths; John is the only one to die of old age. all met similar ends except one. Countless others were killed for just following along and agreeing. It’s not sounding like the odds of being a disciple and making it to your next birthday were exactly good; they definitely weren’t going to be pleasant.

So now, here we are, a couple thousand years later. We know crucifixion as an execution method didn’t last too much longer in the big picture of history after Jesus experienced it. We also know, though, that throughout the last roughly two thousand years, a number completely uncountable and probably never knowable to us have died simply by professing what they believe about Jesus. But we have converted that horrific imagery of the cross into something that we’re proud of, something we readily display² It goes without saying most of the time that we should be willing and ready to acknowledge our faith publicly, but this, too, can be a cross itself to overcome. If so, it’s probably the first and most important one for us to address. and take comfort in, something that we expect to be a sign for others that will call out to them rather than push them away³ Unfortunately, the actions of some today and certain events of the past make the Christian faith itself either distasteful or threatening to some. We need to make sure we’re displaying a faith that rectifies that.. What does it mean for us now to “take up [our] cross?”

I don’t think it’s entirely wrong to say that I might have to take up my cross in order to take the trash out or finish up the laundry. Especially for some of us, that may be one heck of a cross anyway, if we’re dealing with ailments and obstacles to the normal definition of daily living. I mean, really – we are all called to actually “lay down our life” as the scripture says, but most of us will not actually ever be faced with doing so.

It is wrong, however, if we stop there with our cross being some menial task, the unfairness of the world, or even bearing the body’s mental and physical frailties. We need to think of taking up our cross as both literal and symbolic. We need to be ready to have a cross that embraces the ugliness of the world – not for the ugliness that it is, but for the promise of the beauty we can find in it in the long run, allowing Providence to change that which isn’t good into something that is. We need a cross that compels us to be the hands and feet that allow that transforming power of God to be delivered to the world around us. We need a cross that doesn’t shy away from the challenges, whether those are comforting someone in need with words and small deeds of kindness, walking head-first into the self-conscientiousness and challenges of people near to us who don’t take faith seriously (or mock it altogether), and the scary unknown that we are called to face when those situations we’ve never imagined present themselves – especially if those situations are us being called to show love, grant mercy, or fight for justice for someone else. We need a cross that stands as our promise that we will face the day, remembering our commitment to Christ, and with Christ, we will – together⁴ Our faith is not one of individualism; if we’re thinking about “me” at any point in our journey of faith without thinking also of community and neighbor, we need to revisit some things.  Christianity is primarily communal – a faith we practice together. – come through whatever is in our path.

Notes and References

• 1
  Whether you count Judas or not, 12 of 13 Apostles – Matthias being #13 – all died unnatural deaths; John is the only one to die of old age.
• 2
  It goes without saying most of the time that we should be willing and ready to acknowledge our faith publicly, but this, too, can be a cross itself to overcome. If so, it’s probably the first and most important one for us to address.
• 3
  Unfortunately, the actions of some today and certain events of the past make the Christian faith itself either distasteful or threatening to some. We need to make sure we’re displaying a faith that rectifies that.
• 4
  Our faith is not one of individualism; if we’re thinking about “me” at any point in our journey of faith without thinking also of community and neighbor, we need to revisit some things.  Christianity is primarily communal – a faith we practice together.

I originally wrote this for our Providence Associates’ weekly e-news. A slightly edited version appeared there on September 8, 2021.

“Sometimes I am disheartened with this country that I feel as if I were carrying on my shoulders the weight of its highest mountains and in my heart all the thorns of its wilderness.”

—Saint Mother Theodore Guerin

Twenty years ago, our nation paused as terror befell our homeland. Much as I’m sure each of us can recall something of our whereabouts and activities of that day, I believe everyone probably took at least a moment to consider their own patriotism – even those who do not claim these United States as their home. The events of that day rocked the whole world in one way or another. In retrospect, it might be said that, momentous and impactful as the day itself was, the aftermath has been equally somber, if not more so. Everything from debates of liberties as new laws and governmental structures came into being to the ultimate sacrifice of many lives in the most violent of circumstances that we still know all too painfully well yet today have been a sampling of the history set in motion that September morning.

In many ways it can be argued that we as a nation have over corrected. War and its ancillaries have been all the youngest in the human family have known in our relations with certain parts of the world. Today, we disagree with our family, friends, and colleagues about border policies, proper modes of caring for the neediest among us, and the rights of “front-line” workers and those in the service industries to have even modest access to the pursuits of life, liberty, and happiness. There’s no shortage of individuals taking a stand for their personal freedoms, more often than not, at the expense of their responsibilities to love their neighbor.

Let us pause to remember the quarter of a million lives lost and countless more wounded and injured beyond measure (including civilians). Let us reflect on these two well-recognized images in the latter days of 2001, and as we do so, ask what messages they may be trying to convey. Are those messages contradictory or complimentary? Are they co-equal or does one rank above the other? As we reconcile these things in our own hearts, let us also take a moment of reflection – much like we did that fateful day – and ask what the state of our nation and world is within us and how our own patriotism can lead away from selfishness and nationalism towards love, mercy, and justice for all.

Let us pray…
Provident God,
acknowledging our complicity
in those attitudes, actions, and words which perpetuate violence,
we beg the grace of a non-violent heart.
Amen.

Prayer adapted from the Sisters of Providence Litany of Nonviolence