The Refurbished Cross

When I was young I refused to be confirmed in the Catholic Church.  I don't know why.  It just struck me as wrong.  I'm not sure when I started rebelling.   I remember something about being told by a Nun that there are only two alternatives, one of them following Jesus and the other suffering damnation.  It seemed wrong.  Even though I was only 13 or something, such a simple dichotomy, one of which involved being roasted alive for eternity just struck me as not something I wanted to get involved with.  As when I was pressed, "Jesus is asking you Mike, are you really not going to follow him?"  I decided not to.  And I was proud.  I was "special."  While the other kids went docilely along with the story, I decided to extend my middle finger to the whole idea.

My parents, bless their heart, showed remarkable patience.   Even though my father was very devout, I remember him telling me that even though the purveyors of the faith in the small town in North Eastern Wyoming may not have the answers for me, the teachings did have truth which I would discover later in life.

So I went on for many years extending my middle finger to the Church.  And it gave me many reasons to do so.  The priest who would have confirmed me was later dismissed for soliciting a male prostitute in Denver.  Though I went to a Catholic University, many of my classmates simply followed the Catholic teachings without question.  And, of course, I was not going to be a lemming.  So when I had to take Theology Classes, I studied world religions.

After college one of my close friends and employers discovered that he had been sexually abused by a priest when he was young.  He started one of the first survivor organizations of those abused by priests.  I grew angry at the Church's byzantine response to the situation, and that, together which the Church's treatment of women, caused my extended middle finger to grow even more outstretched, firm, and rigid.

It was really not until very recently that I came to a  much more rich understanding of Christianity and its beautiful and inspiring symbols.  The most moving symbol for me is Jesus on the Cross.  It is no wonder that it is the universal symbol of Christianity.  Jesus' arms are spread wide to accept the suffering of the world.  He is embracing the suffering of the world--not turning away from it.   Or, as the Buddhists would say, suffering is exacerbated by avoidance.  When we are confronted by harsh realities in life, or even small discomforts, we often by impulse run in the opposite direction, distract our self from it, or deaden it with any number of sedatives.  But we can never escape the suffering in that manner.  Plus, we can miss what it trying to teach us.

The Crucifixion also contains many other symbols.   It is no accident that the world is enforcing the suffering on Jesus.  The executioners, denizens of the world, are spreading his arms wide and extending his legs, and nailing them open, emphasizing that to live in this world offers no escape, no end to the suffering.   Such is the first Noble Truth of Buddhism elegantly depicted as Jesus is nailed to the cross by humanity.

And Jesus accepts his suffering--and even more remarkably, forgives the world for what it is doing to him.  "Forgive them Father for they know not what they are doing."  For only by forgiving, can the suffering be transformed into universal love, which is the ultimate salvation for humanity.

I think Mom and Dad, I'm finally beginning to appreciate what you said:-).