Limiting the cross’s purpose an injustice to Jesus’ sacrifice

Lent is my least favorite church season.

The main reason is that our church music, liturgies, prayers and personal introspection put too much emphasis on a rigid understanding of the cross. What if there is much more to “Jesus died for our sins” than we usually settle for?

For those who believe this dogma, it can create an unnecessary separation from those who don’t believe it as passionately or at least differently. For those who struggle with “Jesus died …” theology, that separation can put the entire church into question.

Both extremes are so unfortunate, and unnecessary.

Today, I want to add a little historical context and theological inclusiveness to the discussion.

Let’s try a metaphor here: “Jesus died …” is a key ingredient in the bread we share at Holy Communion, but it isn’t the only ingredient. It’s mixed with a great many other crucial ingredients.

This most popular interpretation of the cross in today’s religious climate is a relative latecomer. It didn’t become a substantial part of historic Christian thought until about 900 years ago, according to “The Heart of Christianity” by Marcus Borg. Before that, Jesus’ followers were focused on other meanings of the cross found in the New Testament but relegated to secondary importance (at best) in today’s theological climate.

When this phrase is used in today’s pulpits, or between two people talking about their faith, it almost always centers on individual piety – what Jesus’ death means in my life. That doesn’t appear to be the original, first-century meaning.

In that day, Jesus’ “sacrifice for sin” was a subversive challenge to the religious sacrifice system of the Jewish temple in Jerusalem. Temple priests demanded that they alone had authority to forgive sins. That forgiveness came after a suitable sacrifice – money, animals, produce, etc. – was made. Thus, since forgiveness was required before a person could enter into God’s presence, the temple also had a monopoly on access to God.

So to affirm Jesus was a “sacrifice for sin” effectively signaled the religious leaders that their claim to sole authority in forgiveness and access to God was a thing of the past. Jesus’ death effectively subverted the temple’s sacrificial system. The people now had complete access to God’s radical, unconditional grace and forgiveness.

Another observation: Today, “Jesus died for our sins” insists that God’s offer of forgiveness is available only to those who believe Jesus died for them. Today’s church can often sound like it has an institutional monopoly on God’s grace. Ironically then, we seem more like the temple religion and less like the first-century church.

In our own hearts – and mouths sometimes – we too easily decide to whom God’s “unconditional” grace and forgiveness will be offered. We decide that God’s grace and forgiveness are available only to those who spout the “company line,” those beliefs we believe. No deviations allowed!

But that isn’t our call, folks. This kind of judgmental attitude – whether spoken from a pulpit or in a private conversation – becomes an obstacle to the very grace it affirms. For the person who speaks or thinks judgmentally, the danger is double-edged: It betrays a lack of attention to Jesus’ fuller Gospel that included all persons; plus it plops an obstacle of grace directly in the path of the person to whom the perhaps well-meaning, but overzealous, Christian is speaking.

Our God is much bigger than that. If we are to reflect that God, and the Jesus we say we follow, we can be, and must be, bigger too. When I get past this crossed-up view of cross theology, maybe I’ll engage in Lent more fully.