The Jews expected a leader to vouch for his authority with signs of power. Perhaps they still do. Be that as it may, the radical young rabbi had just created mayhem in the outer court of the temple by driving out the stall-holders with a cattle whip, and overturning the tables of the money changers. What sign can you show us for doing this? What is the evidence for your authority? Within the careful structure of John’s gospel, Jesus has in fact just demonstrated his authority with the first of seven signs the turning of water into wine but that was at a private wedding ceremony in Galilee, and here we are in Jerusalem. The reader knows about Jesus’ authority, but if this event did indeed take place early in his ministry, there is no particular reason why the Jewish questioners should know.
They must have been very puzzled by the answer Jesus gave he does not point them to any evidence of his power to heal and restore instead he appears to evade the question altogether by making what must have seemed a ludicrous claim to be able to rebuild the temple in a matter of three days. Everyone knew the rebuilding had taken 46 years already, and it still wasn’t finished. Once again, the reader is let into the secret. The sign to which Jesus is pointing is not about the physical reconstruction of the temple at all, but about his own crucifixion and resurrection. Having just introduced the first of his seven signs of Jesus’ power, John prepares us at once for his own conviction, at the very heart of his gospel message, that the ultimate sign, greater than any or all of the seven signs which will shape his narrative, is the definitive sign of God’s infinite love and power which we are invited to perceive in the crucifixion and resurrection.
You and I know that, of course, but it is good to be reminded of it because the cross is not only the sign which makes sense of the narrative of Jesus’ life; it is the sign which makes sense of our lives too. We have become so accustomed to seeing the cross, in the shape of our church buildings as well as in paintings and stained glass, on altars and rood screens and lapel badges, that it is easy to forget just how radically it sets us apart from the values of the secular culture within which we operate on a daily basis. The radical symbolism of the cross was more apparent in St Paul’s day. To the Jews it was a massive stumbling block; according to the book of Deuteronomy, anyone executed by hanging was under God’s curse. How could a true prophet, let alone the Messiah, be crucified? To the Greeks and Romans the cross was a symbol of folly; a crucified leader was obviously a fool or a failure, probably both. Over the centuries the cross has become respected, even revered, but it is now associated in most people’s minds with dimly lit buildings where a respectable but rather boring minority of the population meets on Sunday mornings to be talked at by some well-meaning airhead, and to take part in some obscure old-fashioned rituals. Nobody is scandalised by the Church or the Cross these days, we are just tolerated, kindly enough, as a marginal irrelevance.
Yet Paul insists that, to those who are called, the sign of the cross, Christ crucified, is the power of God and the wisdom of God. Both those claims remain true to-day, and I would venture to add a third the Cross symbolises to us the centrality of Christ crucified in our lives.
First then, the sign of the cross bears witness to the power of God. The power of God cannot begin to be measured on the same scale as human power. If He chose to deploy his power, it would easily outgun the might of the greatest powers on earth. Jesus knew he could have called on his Father to send ten thousand legions of angels to scatter the posse of Roman soldiers at the foot of the cross and set him triumphantly free. He didn’t do that because the power of God is not shown in overwhelming force, but in overwhelming love. The love of God has infinite power to heal and restore, a power for good vastly greater than the explosive power of any bomb, but that power in the Holy Spirit could only be released into the world by God himself, who in Jesus loved us so much that he was willing to allow our sinful nature to crucify Him, so that our true nature, restored to the likeness of God, could also be raised to new life in him. When we look at the cross, we see the power of God.
Second, the sign of the cross bears witness to the wisdom of God. The wisdom of God differs from human wisdom just as radically as the power of God differs from human power. All around us wise and clever people are calculating how to make more money, how to come out on top, how to win the glittering prizes, but the wisdom of love teaches us to give and not to count to cost, to fight and not to heed the wounds, to labour and not to seek for any reward. Male or female, we may have to sacrifice a promising career, or a familiar and comfortable way of life, in order to make the provision which love suggests for the needs of someone else. Such counter-cultural behaviour may put at risk that fat bonus, or that coveted promotion, there may indeed be a price to pay which looks utterly foolish by the standards of the world we live in, but if the offering is made for the love of God and our neighbour generously, willingly and without any expectation of a payback then the surprising thing is just how often our foolish actions give rise, eventually, to a whole shower of unanticipated blessings. I said ‘surprising’, but we ought not to be surprised. If for God’s sake we live by the wisdom of love, foolish as it may appear, costly as it may be, we shall stay close to God our Father, who loves us and is the source of all joy and peace and blessing. When we look at the cross, we see the wisdom of God.
And then finally the sign of the cross bears witness to the centrality of Christ crucified in our lives. We are citizens of this world, with all its random pains and pleasures, joys and sorrows, as well as the not-so-random consequences of the choices and decisions which we and others make. It’s a bumpy ride for all of us, and sometimes it looks as if those who put themselves first, and aren’t too scrupulous about their behaviour towards others, may have the better of it. Don’t be fooled. Not only is this life rather short, and they can’t take the fast cars, the string of racehorses, the night-clubs and the private beach in the Caribbean with them. But getting all that stuff, and keeping it, is liable to get in the way of the things that really matter, being there for one another, bearing one another’s burdens for love’s sake, making for ourselves the discovery that Jesus who went through the deepest pain and suffering imaginable physically, mentally and emotionally is at our side if we will dare to reach out to him when we are being put through the mangle.
What sign can you show us? The love of God, by which Jesus lived, brought him into conflict with the values of his society. The conflict is apparent from the first pages of John’s gospel. ‘He was in the world, and the world was made by him, and the world knew him not.’ In John’s eyes, the cross was the sign of that wise and powerful love which would carry Jesus into conflict and through it to his death and resurrection. He tells the story so that we may see the centrality of the cross in Jesus’ life as he sees it, and that seeing we may believe as he believes. The cross of shame and folly that has become the cross of glory still stands at that same point of conflict and intersection, where we all stand as citizens of earth and citizens of heaven. At our baptism we were all marked with the sign of the cross and commanded ‘to fight valiantly against sin, the world and the devil, and remain faithful to Christ to the end of our lives.’ We look to the cross as the sign of God’s power, the sign of God’s wisdom, the sign of God’s love, the sign by which we are called to order our lives.
Handley Stevens