Suddenly, right here in the middle of September, it is Palm Sunday again, the beginning of the week that we call Holy Week or the Week of the Passion of Christ. That strange procession, which must have been first seen by the guards on the city wall as it moved toward Jerusalem, takes shape before our imaginations again. The central figure - Jesus - is seated upon "a colt of a donkey," and people throw palm branches in his path, shouting "Hosanna! Blessings on the King of Israel, who comes in the name of the Lord." Later on, some remember what Scripture says: "Do not be afraid, daughter of Zion; see, your king is coming, mounted on the colt of a donkey." (Jerusalem Bible) With Jesus’ entrance into the Holy City, the "count-down to the cross" begins again. We know the connecton between Passion Sunday and the Cross. Why exalt Good Friday and Jesus’ death almost half a year later than the climactic events of Lent and Holy Week? Holy Cross Day seems totally out of place in September, doesn’t it? Why was it put back in our calendar?

Well, for one thing, it has nothing to do with any of the original reasons for celebrating Holy Cross Day on September 14. As early as the third century, Ember Days were celebrated. These were Christian fasts connected to the harvest (Penetecost), the vintage, or new wine (September), and sowing (December). Later, there were four embertides that were connected to the ordination of the clergy on four occasions during the year. After the Reformation, some Lutherans turned these days and their two-weeks celebrations into four two-week catechetical periods. This, too, has gone by the way; it and the other practices which, in September, are connected to the ancient "exaltation of the Holy Cross," have long been forgotten by most people in the various parts of the catholic church.

Nor, certainly, did its restoration have anything to do with the fact that in the fourth century, the Empress Helena brought back "pieces of the Holy Cross" to Rome and housed them in a chapel set aside in one of the halls of the Sessorian palace. That chapel was consecrated on March 20, 330, by Pope Sylvester. Tradition says that Helena not only brought back from Jerusalem portions of the cross but that she also had dirt imported from Jerusalem on which the first Church of the Holy Cross (Santa Croce in Gerusalemme) was constructed. Holy Cross Day has nothing to do with that church nor with the collection of relics - even the cross on which Jesus was crucified.

Rather, we need - as those early Greeks who sought out Philip and said, "We would see Jesus" - to be confronted again with the cross as well as Christ. In the kind of world we are living, with all of its alienation and seemingly hopeless situations, we desperately need to see Christ as the Son of God who became King of Kings and Lord of Lords when he died on Calvary. That’s why we sing:

Lift high the cross, the love of Christ proclaim

Till all the world adore his sacred name.

It is really that we lift high the Christ - and his cross - as we are about to enter the last part of Pentecost and approach the climax of that long season, the Festival of Christ the King. If this festival (Holy Cross Day) does nothing else, it keeps us on course, or gets us back on it if we have lost our way during Pentecost.

The cross of Christ, especially in the light of Christ’s acceptance of it, is the announcement to the whole world that God loves his creation and the creatures who are living in the world. The cross always says, "God loves us - right now!" The cross reveals the very heart of Jesus as it tells the whole world that Jesus loves us as God loves us - enough to die for you and me. To see the cross - and understand it - is to "see Jesus" as he took the ultimate risk in his ministry by laying down his life in the confidence that God would raise him up again and, in the resurrection, vindicate him. He became obedient unto death - for our sakes! That’s why we need to ponder the mystery of the cross more often than we do, isn’t it? Ours is a world where the lives of other people are constantly taken away by their enemies; we put people to death rather than die for their deliverance, don’t we? Who loves enough to do anything that even approaches dying for another - or risking one’s welfare to aid someone who is in trouble?

John Vannorsdal tells an interesting story about a bus ride in New Haven, Connecticut. As he boarded a city bus and moved toward the coin box, he became aware of a problem up ahead of him. Two young boys, who needed transfers, had put their money in the box before they discovered that the driver, who was new to the firm and the route, had no transfers. The driver couldn’t return the money, and one of the boys had no money left for paying the fare on the next bus. A bus pulled up behind and the driver suggested, "You fellows get on the bus behind me and just tell them you’ve already paid." A passenger said, "That driver ain’t gonna believe those boys." The driver said, "Now you folks know that I’m not supposed to leave this bus." A customer answered, "It’s all right, lady; we’ll take care of the bus." So the driver got off the bus, went back to the next bus, obtained some transfers, and the problem was solved. And a customer announced, "She’s new, but she’s gonna do all right."

Vannorsdal says that the most important element in the incident was that the people really cared about the predicament of the young boys; more importantly, because the driver risked her job by what she did, she showed that she cared for the boys. It was a Christ-like, something of a cross-like, act that the bus driver did to extricate the young boys from their near-impossible predicament. When people act that way, we see Jesus and his cross. In simple and sometimes very ordinary deeds and circumstances, true followers of Christ lift high the Christ so that the world can see the crucified one. Jesus said, "If anyone serves me, he must follow me; and where I am, there shall my servant be also; if anyone serves me, the Father will honor him."

Jesus didn’t grant the Greeks an audience as they had requested through Philip and Andrew; instead, he told the two of them that the time of his death was at hand; the cross would be where the whole world would be able to see the Christ and decide for itself whether or not to believe the story about him. Thus, the cross is either a symbol of delivery from sin and death, or it is a sign of judgment for those who refuse to believe that Christ’s death has any significance for our lives and our deaths. To reject the cross of Christ is to turn away from God’s efforts at reconciling us to himself and renewing all of his creation through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. The cross is an emblem of death for unbelievers; it condemns them whom Christ would save.

Ray Bradbury wrote a story called "The Coffin." It is about a seventy-year-old man, Charles Braling, who is building his coffin in the belief that he would soon die. His brother, Richard, looked on, "bitter-eyed, for a long moment. There was a hatred between them," says Bradbury. "It had gone on for some years and now was neither any better nor any worse for the fact that Charlie was dying. Richard was delighted to know of the impending death ..." Charlie said, "I’ll be dead in another week and I’m - I’m building my own coffin!" There’s a bit of the note Jesus sounded at the beginning of Holy Week when he spoke to Philip and Andrew about his proximate death. But there’s more to the story that Bradbury spins than an old man anticipating death, announcing it, and then making the final preparations - the coffin - for death.

Charlie’s brother said, "That doesn’t look like a coffin. A coffin isn’t that complex ... it would be easier to buy one." And Charlie replies, "You couldn’t buy one like this anyplace, ever." And it was different - "a good twelve feet long, with a transparent top, and it was five feet thick." In two weeks, Charlie had finished the coffin and dropped dead. Richard called the mortuary and asked them to send around "a wicker" for brother Charlie. He gave instructions when they arrived: "Ordinary casket. No funeral service. Put him in a pine coffin. He would have preferred it that way - simple. Good-by." Then he went to investigate his brother’s coffin, believing that he would find money hidden in it, He discovered no secret buttons - only directions on how to operate the coffin: "Simply place body in coffin - and music will start." He called the gardener and told him to come by in fifteen minutes to make sure that everything was all right, then he got into the coffin. He closed the lid because he was aware of the ventilation holes in it. The music began to play - organ music - and then a funeral sermon began; it was his brother’s voice announcing the funeral of Richard Braling: "Richard was a fine man. We shall see no finer in our time." He relaxed, even though he couldn’t get the lid open, because the gardener would soon come. But before he knew what was happening, a small panel opened and a metal arm injected him with a fluid that paralyzed him - and soon his death was inevitable. The coffin had been built so that it even dug a grave; lowered itself into it, and pulled in the dirt behind him. The younger brother who had viewed the coffin and said to his brother, "To hell with you," was actually judged and condemned - and killed - by that which he had rejected, his brother and his coffin. To reject the death of Christ on the cross and simply call it nonsense is to place oneself in the same sort of jeopardy. "Now is the judgment of this world, now shall the ruler of this world be cast out."

The cross of Christ - in the light of his resurrection - tells the world that Satan has been defeated and cast out; his hold on humanity has been broken by Jesus’ refusal to fall down and worship him, and especially by his acceptance of the cross and death. The devil may still be around to work his wiles upon people and trick them - to try to deceive them into thinking he is lord of the earth, but Jesus destroyed his powerful hold on humanity and released God’s children from Satan’s grip so that they - we - could be God’s again. There’s another Ray Bradbury story which reverses the Christmas-Jesus story. It is titled "The Small Assassin." Alice Lieber is about to give birth to a child and says, "I am being murdered before their eyes. These doctors, these nurses don’t realize what hidden thing has happened to me. David (her husband) doesn’t know. Nobody knows except me and - the killer, the little murderer, the small assassin." And after her delivery of the baby boy, she knew her fate was sealed while David thought the new baby was "fine" and "fun." But they never named the baby until she died in a fall that was caused by the baby’s doll, then David said, "Funny thing ... I - I finally thought of a name for the baby ... I’m going to have him christened next Sunday. Know what name I’m giving him? I’m going to call him Lucifer." In the end, David discovered that the baby, who was able to get in and out of his crib and could crawl around at a very early age, was trying to kill him - and did. The baby turned on a gas jet while David was under sedation. Later, Dr. Jeffers, who knew the whole story, discovered that the door to the nursery had blown closed; the crib was empty. "I can’t take any chances. I’m not sure of anything," he said, "but I can’t take any chances." He went downstairs, opened his medical bag, and took out something and went looking for the baby: "See, baby! Something bright - something pretty." A scalpel.

God used a cross to rid the world of Satan’s power to deceive and destroy all that is good and enduring in people. And he used it, not only to defeat the devil at his own game, but to draw people to himself through Jesus Christ: "And I, if I be lifted up, will draw people to myself." That’s why we placed our "Christ Figure" - a crucifix done by Paul Granlund - in the middle of the nave among the seats in our chapel. Oriented to the font near the rear door, the Christ Figure not only represents - "And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself," but it also says, "We were buried with him by baptism into death, so that as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life." It is astounding how many theological students fail to see what the Christ Figure stands for or is attempting to say. Sometimes I think we need another Christ Figure dominating the interior of the chapel - up front by the communion table - and announcing by his kingly garb and crown that Jesus has not only drawn us to himself and set us free but now reigns until his return. You see, Pilate’s sign was right and proper: "This is the King of the Jews," and, although he and most others didn’t know it then, of the whole, wide world.

And so the hymn ("Lift High the Cross") catches the meaning and the reason for celebrating Holy Cross Day:

Led on their way by this triumphant sign,
The hosts of God in conqu'ring ranks combine.
All newborn soldiers of the Crucified
Bear on their brows the seal of him who died.

O Lord, once lifted on the glorious tree,
As thou has promised, draw us all to thee.
So shall our song of triumph ever be:
Praised to the Crucified for victory!

Lift high the cross, the love of Christ proclaim
Till all the world adore his sacred name.

To "lift-high the cross" is to lift high the Christ so that all the world might see him, be drawn to him, and call him Lord and King.