As some of you know, I have been away for two Sundays – on vacation with my family. I’m pleased to say that I was able to visit two different churches while I was away. On Sunday, February 22, we visited Christ the King Episcopal Church in Santa Rosa Beach, Florida. It was nice to sit in the pews with my family and experience something different. The service was lovely, the sanctuary was beautiful, and the people were nice (even when they found out that there were Presbyterian interlopers in their midst!).
If you’ve never been to an Episcopal church, in some congregations, there comes a point in the service when a small procession of people brings a Bible out into the middle of the sanctuary to read the Gospel Lesson for the day. The procession at Christ the King Episcopal included two young people carrying candles, one adult carrying the Bible, and one young person carrying a 12-inch brass cross that was attached to the top of a 5 foot long handle.
At the end of the Gospel reading, the small procession returned to the front of the sanctuary and put the candles, the Bible, and the cross back in their proper places. But as they did this, I noticed that the shiny brass cross was placed next to an American flag. And there these two symbols sat. . . side-by-side, together. . . all through the sermon, and several hymns, and the Lord’s Supper, and the weekly announcements, and the benediction.
The flag and the cross, side-by-side. . .
“Well. . . that’s an interesting juxtaposition!” I thought.
When I was growing up, there was a time when the flag was part of the procession into our Methodist church, every Sunday. It preceded the choir and pastors during the opening hymn. In our own congregation, there are at least two Sundays throughout the year – Scout Sunday and Memorial Day Sunday – when the flag is processed into the sanctuary at the start of the service and placed to the right of the pulpit. The rest of the year (aside from Advent, when it is removed to make room for the Christmas tree) the flag stays tucked in the front of the sanctuary, to the right of the pulpit. I know that some people really appreciate its presence there and others merely tolerate it. In our own congregation, there are some who would say that the flag is an essential thing, some who would rather see it removed to another part of our church building, and some who hardly notice its presence. Perhaps the folks in this last group might be thinking, at this point, “Oh yeah, now that I think of it, I guess we do have a flag in our sanctuary!”
We also have a cross in our sanctuary – front and center – mounted higher than the flag, above and behind the pulpit, affixed to the front of our historic pipe organ. This particular cross has been there for decades, I am told, a gift from the McAllister family – who also gave some of the historic pewter that can be found in the case at the back of the sanctuary.
Around 500 years ago, the Reformation movement, led by people like John Calvin in Geneva and John Knox in Scotland, sought to remove any and all symbols from church sanctuaries that distracted people from the sovereignty of God. They were especially keen on removing all images, icons, and other signs and symbols. Stained glass windows were broken and replaced with clear glass. You can still see places in churches where statues of people were broken off at the legs and all that remains are the feet of whatever was there before. Would John Calvin and/or John Knox have allowed a national flag in their sanctuaries? Well. . . if you go to St. Giles Cathedral in Scotland – John Knox’s old church – today, you’ll find both a statue of John Knox AND multiple flags. Perhaps old John Knox is rolling over in his grave (which is in a small parking lot behind the cathedral, right below parking spot # 23).
For my part, the flag and the cross are merely symbols of greater things, symbols that are rich (and sometimes fraught) with deep and complicated meaning.
The flag’s meaning as a symbol is largely linked to the history of our nation – a history that some would say is unquestionably glorious and others would say is imperfect, at best. There are also the various personal meanings that we imbue – meanings that are linked to deep emotions and powerful memories. For some, these meanings are overwhelmingly positive and for others, they are overwhelmingly negative. I am so thankful to live in a nation where all of these meanings about our most ubiquitous national symbol can be discussed and debated until the cows come home. My eyes will mist up when an American flag is draped on a casket for the funeral of a veteran and then folded and handed to a loved-one by solemn military personnel. And, I admit, my eyes will roll a bit when I see someone wearing a red, white, and blue American flag bathing suit, walking down the beach with a beer. And yet both images are distinctly American. The meaning of the flag says something about who we are as the people who live in and love this complicated nation, this beautiful land.
The meaning of the cross, on the other hand, is theological. It says something about God. From an historical standpoint, the cross – as the old hymn goes – was “the emblem of suffering and shame.” It was – and is – also a symbol of the One who suffered on behalf of all humanity, including you and me. The very idea of the cross and a crucified God is, as the Apostle Paul writes, “foolishness” (1 Corinthians 1:18) to those who do not understand that “God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength.” (1 Corinthians 1:25) And, in our tradition, the “empty” cross that does not include a representation of Christ’s body (like a Crucifix) is a sign of God taking this instrument of suffering and shame, the empire’s horrific implement of execution, and changing it – redeeming and glorifying it – into a symbol and sign of the resurrection.
The cross is a symbol that has already been redeemed and glorified by God – in the dying and rising of Jesus Christ. The cross is a sign of something that God has done – and continues to do – for all creation.
And the flag. . . ? It is a symbol of something that we long to be more perfect. . . but we are not there yet. Acknowledging our imperfection does not mean that I do not love my country. Far from it. I want the absolute best for my country and pray for this. Hopefully, you do, too! For me, to see a national flag in a church sanctuary – even the flag of a nation we love – is a reminder that we are not perfect yet. We live in a world that has been saved by God, but is still in need of God’s saving power, especially in these turbulent times.
I am grateful for the ways that we are able, as a church, to hold some of the complexities of this world in tension with one another, even as we pray for, long for, and work for God’s kingdom on earth, as it is in heaven. . .
Grace and Peace,
John
Prepare for Worship
This Week: “Had. . . Have. . . Are. . . Enough?” (The Good News is. . . With God, All Things are Possible)
Read Ephesians 3:20-21
Read Mark 6:32-44
Read or sing Hymn # 312 – “Take Us As We Are, O God”
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