THE CROSS AND THE CORONAVIRUS

For the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. For it is written,

“I will destroy the wisdom of the wise,
and the discernment of the discerning I will thwart.”

Where is the one who is wise? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world? For since, in the wisdom of God, the world did not know God through wisdom, God decided, through the foolishness of our proclamation, to save those who believe. For Jews demand signs and Greeks desire wisdom, but we proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles, but to those who are the called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. For God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength.

1 Corinthians 1:18-25

My Twitter feed has been a wreck this week. Everybody, and I mean everybody is mad or panicked. At the government, for not acting enough, or for being over-dramatic, at their neighbor, for mostly the same reasons. But also at Christianity. Panicked that some churches weren’t closing down to protect their congregants, or angry at the Church’s call for prayer acting as a proxy for inaction. What I’ve noticed is that the current crisis we’re going through is bringing up some of the underlying frustrations at our faith. They are the same criticisms I’ve heard before, but leveled in all kinds of new ways in response to our current global situation- religion is a problem, faith is foolish, we are all better off without it. So why is it that we continue? 

In our reading today, St. Paul is beginning his letter to the Corinthian Church, a church characterized by division; class division, ethnic division, and educational division. Some of the members of the Corinthian church were very wealthy, and also then very educated since it was something they could afford, and this skill was prized very highly in Corinth. Indeed, addressing the value of eloquence and logic is something that St. Paul will address throughout the letter, though he begins doing so here. He levels the apparent accusations of the foolishness of what he has been telling the Corinthians with an odd assertion- God has rejected the world’s wisdom for wisdom of another kind, which appears foolish, but in reality is superior. Christ is the epitome of this paradox- his weakness is real strength, and his foolishness is real wisdom.

I think, like the Greek Corinthians, we are all seeking wisdom in these times. Whether that’s figuring out what source to get our information from, and how to act to keep ourselves and our loved ones safe, and what to do in this new national order we’re finding ourselves in. Like the Jewish Corinthians, we are asking for signs- for proof of our health, our stability, our security. And, like the Corinthians, many people in our society hear about the cross, and level the accusation that it is foolishness; it is ancient silly nonsense not fit for the problems of the modern world. St. Paul invites us into this conversation today, a conversation that many folks, like those on my Twitter feed, are already having. The cross is foolishness. It seemed foolish then and it seems foolish now. Yet, we hold onto the cross as the crux of our faith. So, what does the cross have to say in the time of the coronavirus?

The cross reminds us two things about Jesus. First is that Jesus lived a life before the cross. He lived a certain kind of life, one that was filled with compassion that led to action. The life he lived before the cross is what gives the cross meaning; it’s what gives it power. He saw crowds of hungry people, he loved them, and fed them. He saw people possessed by demons, he took pity on them, and he cast demons out. He had all sorts of people who were ritually unclean because of illness come to his feet, and he saw them and then healed them. The compassion and action which Jesus exemplified embodies the character of God. 

And the powers that be did not want God running around earth, they wanted God’s power to themselves, to use for their own means. They tried to put an end to the work of Jesus, and they used tools of the greatest extremity- death, but not just any death, a socially stigmatized death. The death of a criminal, a non-citizen, someone who did not have the rights to be treated better. And by any human standard that should’ve been the end of it. 

But the cross also is a reminder that Jesus lived a life after the cross, or more accurately, lives a life after the cross. The cross reveals the powers that be are not as powerful as they wish. It reminds us that there is not just human wisdom and power at work in the world. And they don’t have the power to silence the love of God. And that love which overcame the severity of the cross has not left us, or forgotten us. That love has not stopped asking us to join in overcoming death. Through the model of the life of Jesus, through action and compassion, the love of God asks us again today to join in overcoming death. 

Now, I most certainly do not have the power to heal, and I have not resurrected anyone from the dead. So joining this task feels a bit overwhelming to me. I come to the cross and ask, “What do you need me for? I cannot contribute anything of worth!”. There is good news in that Jesus does not ask us to perform miracles, and if that was the standard of a Christian then I would have to quit seminary and find a new path. Instead, Jesus asks us to overcome death in a much simpler, less showy way. He asks us to overcome death by loving our neighbor, in compassion and action. And somehow, when we leave our struggle for human wisdom and human power, we enter the economy of God, and that love grows deeper and stronger than it should by human standard. This love becomes a miracle, defying human boundaries.

What simple nonsense this is! How can loving our neighbor combat the power of death? Yes, it is foolishness to the Greeks, and a stumbling block to the Jews. But the cross during the coronavirus tells us to love foolishly. But not with human foolishness—with God’s foolishness. How silly does it sound to adore the distance we keep from our friends and families, and delight in the ways we can keep them safe? What kind of parody would we become if we gave our money and possessions away to those who don’t have enough while the rest of the world is hoarding all they can? If we used our time spent confined to our home to advocate bringing others out from their confinement, out from prisons and detention centers? The weakness of the cross; the soul-wrenching compassion which made way for new life, is not the way of the world. It does not make sense to the human logic. 

I have to tell you, that I agree with the resounding judgment of the world on the Church. The cross is foolishness. And its foolishness is why I stay. Its foolishness is its beauty and its power. Who would’ve thought that an unknown Jewish rebel would be Lord of the universe. The cross reminds us to imitate the compassion and action that this rebel lived. The compassion and action that befuddled his society and threatened the empire’s hold on their power. 

So let us love with heavenly foolishness. In our circumstances, we might need a little more imagination that we’re used to, but I know the Spirit isn’t short on that. 

Let us bring peace to a frenzied world. 

Let us bring abundance to the places of scarcity. 

Let us bring compassion to the places of apathy. 

And let us pray.

Fount of compassion and source of all just works: We thank you for the unseen angels who attend to the sick and dying in the places that we cannot go- the hospitals, the prisons, the nursing homes and detention centers, and we pray fervently that each and every person may  feel the presence of the heavenly hosts in their solitude. We confess of our lack of compassion and action; we have failed to see your face in the face of our neighbor. We pray that you send your Holy Spirit to light the fire of justice in our hearts; give us the wisdom and strength of your son, Jesus Christ, to not only endure but to join in overcoming death through the cross, through the mercies of our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

Rachel Douglass

Rachel Douglass is a seminarian at Princeton Theological Seminary, and a Postulant for Holy Orders in the Episcopal Church through the Diocese of New Jersey. She received her undergraduate degree in Missiology at Seattle Pacific University, and continues to yearn for the abundance of coffee she had there. You can find her on Twitter under the handle @rachdougl015, and follow her journey documenting living life with chronic illness, mental illness, and trauma under the handle @becomingdear on Instagram. She/Her.

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