"The faithful were wearing necklaces, to remind them why they came. Some concrete motivation, when the abstract could not do the same"

I received a cross necklace for Christmas. It is made of silver from Ethiopia, and my sister-in-law (one of those wonderful people who manages to keep having quiet faith despite doubts and bad church experiences and all that) gave it to me. It's beautiful, and I love it. But when (and how) should I wear it?

I've been thinking about getting a cross for a while but kept balking for two reasons. The first was that, like Annie Dillard's monumental book Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, it's not something one should just buy new from a store. It should be well-worn, or be a gift, or have a history beyond just that of a consumerist desire. My sister-in-law solved that problem for me.

The second reason why I avoided getting a cross was that I couldn't figure out how to treat it. After all, it's a visible symbol of my faith, and a pretty nasty torture implement besides -- I can't just treat it like any other piece of jewelry. So wearing it because it happens to go with my outfit is not good, I think. But on the other hand, I don't want to wear it all the time. Besides the vain objection that I like my other necklaces and want to wear them sometimes too, there's the more serious idea that I don't always want to wear my religious affiliation around my neck. Sometimes I want to 'pass' as normal, not because I'm ashamed of my religion (at least, I hope that's not the case) but because I don't want to activate someone's hangups around Christianity. I still make immediate assumptions when I see someone wearing a cross -- how am I to expect someone who doesn't share my beliefs not to do the same?

My friend Victoria suggested a possible resolution to these sort of mental gymnastics -- just wear the cross when I'm doing something particularly Christian -- going to church or giving a sermon or something. But how can I do anything and not be a Christian? If I'm right about my beliefs, if they should undergird and support everything I do and say and decide, then I shouldn't ever take the cross off. But on the other hand, my beliefs should not be so tied up in some sort of external symbol -- the cross should be a reminder and a symbol of my faith, not the source of it. And so the debate in my head rages on...

____________________________________________________

As an addendum, the title of this post is taken (slightly adapted) from Pedro the Lion's song Secret of the Yoke. I performed it once as a dramatic piece at a theology conference, and want to do so again someday. It's the closest I've seen in modern music to the laments of the psalms and Lamentations which are so tragically neglected by modern (and postmodern) churches. Here are the lyrics:

I could hear the church bells ringing
they pealed aloud your praise
the member’s faces were smiling
with their hands outstretched to shake

it’s true they did not move me
my heart was hard and tired
their perfect fire annoyed me
I could not find you anywhere

could someone please tell me the story of sinners ransomed from the fall
I still have never seen you, and somedays
I don’t love you at all

the devoted were wearing bracelets
to remind them why they came
some concrete motivation
when the abstract could not do the same
but if all that’s left is duty, I’m falling on my sword
at least then, I would not serve an unseen distant lord

could someone please tell me the story of sinners ransomed from the fall
I still have never seen you, and somedays
I don’t love you at all

if this only a test
I hope that I’m passing, 'cause I’m losing steam
but I still want to trust you

peace, be still
peace, be still
peace, be still

Small, but persistent, ideas.

1. If I could do Communion exactly as I wanted, I would draw attention back to that part of the scriptures which most people gloss over but which sticks out like a sore thumb during the wafer-and-grape-juice rituals we have today: "When Jesus sat at supper with his friends..." If I could do communion I would have it be a simple meal with all the congregation seated around many round tables. Each table would have a fresh loaf of bread and wine/grape juice at it, as well as the various bits of the meal (a potluck, some soup, sandwiches, whatever). Each table would have one person who would repeat the words of Jesus, break the bread, and hand it around to signal the start of the meal. Then, as people were finishing up, she or or would rise, raise a glass, and everyone would drink some wine/grape juice. I don't care if this would be too expensive or too non-traditional or too difficult to organize or would interfere with regular sunday service. It's the way the Eucharist meal ought to be done.

2. If we are to truly show the Trinity as a model for the whole people of God, then we need to remake God the Father into God the Mother. To resolve gender issues, it makes sense if the Trinity is he/she/it. 'It' is obviously the Holy Spirit -- we can refer to 'it' without sounding mechanistic, which we can't do with either the other parts of the trinity. And obviously Jesus came to earth as a Man (what else could he have done in first century Palestine? -- as a woman no one would have listened to him), so that means to complete our triumvirate we need God to be She. It's not that hard really, God's always giving birth in the Old Testament, groaning in travail for her people. God is loving yet stern, laying down the law for unruly children, letting them learn how to ride their own bike (with all the skinned knees that entails) but always ready to enfold us when we come back crying from our wounds. This is not to say that I will hereafter always refer to God as 'she', but thinking of the Trinity in this way does break down that old notion of the holy boy's club.

[Addendum: Removing God from the role of Father also severs God from that pervasive deistic notion of God as a 50's father: a shadowy figure who doesn't take much personal interest in our lives, who is to be catered to and feared more than cuddled up to and chatted with. Not around very much when we need Him, although his work makes our lives of relative luxury possible, so we are taught to feel endebted to him in specific monetary and commodified/material way. Ie. "Daddy paid for the clothes you're wearing and he's very tired right now, so don't bother him with your questions." Very nasty metaphor, that.]

3. We need to find a way to make 'church' into an animate, rather than an inanimate noun. Church should be a someone, not a somewhere. Again, I'm not going to be dogmatic about this (I can't change English word usage all by myself, much as I would like to), but I think conceiving of a 'church' of people the same way we refer to a flock of birds or a school of fish would go a long way to helping Christians (and non-Christians) realize that the buildings are just empty shells, that we are what matters.