The CAUCC Twisted Cross

A Symbol of Grace

 The cross was designed by Betty Shaffer Rigney, member of CAUCC

In Protestant churches, the empty cross symbolizes that Christ rose from the dead and lives among us. As your eyes follow the beams to the ends, their angular edges stop and the cross becomes an entity unto itself, confined within the walls of its sanctuary. This “Twisted Cross” gives a sense of being alive, unity in movement that flows in all directions. It appears to penetrate these sacred walls, to reach out and bless the community and the world of fellowship. It is Grace personified.

A Current Member’s Understanding

 “George Vance provides one interpretation of the cross.  I remember hearing of a Creative Writing Group at the church being asked to provide their interpretations of the cross. As there is, as of now, no discoverable notes from Betty Rigney and Rev. Vance admits he didn't know her thinking about it, maybe we are all being asked to provide our own interpretation just as we all find our own path to God.”

-Spencer Elliott

An interpretation through sermon from the founding pastor, Rev. George C. Vance

This is a sermon that I knew sometime had to be preached. And I’m sure that an appropriate time is on this Sunday when we recognize the memorial gifts made in the building of this our new church. Ever since last late July when I stood in this empty sanctuary and saw this excellent Cross being lifted into place as the center and new highlight of our church, I know that one day I had to preach on this subject -- the twisted cross. For in spite of all the loveliness in the other parts of the sanctuary - beams in the ceiling, the lights, the simple white walls, the brilliant red carpet and cushions - this cross, as it ought, is the unique and central thing about this place. I would not be a bit surprised that in time our church might become to be called, at least in the terms of the vernacular, the Church of the Twisted Cross.

 

Now I do not know that symbolism Betty Rigney, its designer as you know a member of this church and chairman of the Interior Committee that planned the interior of this sanctuary, had in mind when she created it and conceived this cross an I sincerely hope that she is not shaking in her shoes when I use the word “twisted.” I admit the word “twisted” has an unpleasant connotation as though something had been found askew or out of perspective, perpendicular or crude design, but that is not the way I see it. I see this twisted cross as a highly symbolic creation for religion of our day, of the basic truths that are in our Christian Faith. Now most crosses are either rough or plain, simple or ornamental, either with crucifix attached or without; the Protestant cross as you all know, is without crucifix emphasizing the risen Lord and not the crucified One; and sometime our crosses are slim, made of silver, or dazzling, made of bronze. But always the cross is, or ought to be, the center of a sanctuary, the focus to which the eye of the worshipper is drawn. For so it is in our Christian Faith.

Philosophically, the Cross is the center of Christianity and of history. About fifteen years ago Life Magazine had as its cover page a picture of Christ on the Cross. And the editorial writer, explaining the use of the cross of Christ, in a secular magazine, said that no other scene could ever be more appropriate, that every human situation had in it the philosophy of the Cross - with man, like Christ, held between heaven and hell; pulled one way, upward, by the good and the idealistic and pulled the other way, downward, by the selfish and the debasing. Every hour of history and every moment of time, mankind is on this cross between heaven and hell and his choice is what makes the events of the day. The cross is the center of history and of our faith; make no mistake about it.

 

I certainly is the center of our personal lives. Who ever became anything, attained any amount of goodness or grandeur without bearing a cross of discipline and sacrifice? No artistic ability nor insight was ever given unless a person strove for it by discipline; no professional proficiency was ever purchased without bearing a cross. Who was it? Wasn't it the great pianist, Paderewski, who said that if I fail to practice one day, I know it; and if I fail to practice two days, the critics know it; and if I fail to practice three days, the public knows it.

 And this, I suspect, is the real trouble with our world today -- the Cross has gone out of lives. Our lives are predicted on the plane of pleasure and satisfaction only. We think we can have a successful marriage on passion and love; in truth it takes work and sacrifice and forgiveness; it takes a real cross. We think we can be saints by coming to church once a month—or some people once a year, but the barest minimum of spiritual attainment is unnatural and demands a cross. We want a sensitive spirit, but we do not want it bad enough to pay the price, pay for it the price of understanding and forgiveness.

 But this sermon is not meant to be a sermon on the philosophy of the cross, important as that might be, it is meant to be a sermon on the symbolism of this cross, this “Twisted Cross,” as I see it and as it suggests itself to me.

 

First, see here “Grace,” the restraining grace of Christ and God. Most crosses of yesterday are stark, rigid and angular. There they are -- fixed, foreboding and factual; then they have a take-it-or-leave-it attitude, a believe-and-be-saved or doubt-and-be damned. There were only two extremes possible: either the cross was a mystery before which we must kneel and pray, or it was nonsense -- white was white and lack was black and there was no bridge between to span the chasm of differentness.

But this cross is more in tune with the modern concept of religion; it has no angular edges. There is a distinct unity in this cross; we know it is a cross of Jesus Christ, but because of its flow and movement it seems to go in all directions; the harsh edges have been modified by the flowing lines of its body. It is grace personified. And if this be the symbolism, I am much in accord with its purpose.

In my calling this week, I was talking with a person who I am sure was searching for a deeper understanding of the Christian faith, and she asked me this very simple question. It was -- “Why are ministers always so sure and so forceful that what they said was right as though there could be no deviation from a rigid norm or standard?” That caught me a little between the eyes, because I am sure that you have that idea sometimes of my preaching. And I replied, “I suppose it is because of the vehicle of the sermon. In a sermon you have to shout to keep people awake, or so other people can hear, and because of that shouting you associate the sermon with harshness. The soft conversational philosophy of talking together in love is not the tone of the sermon. And then in the sermon the minister does have to portray a certainty of basic faith, an irreducible minimums of Christianity.” There are scripture you all remember that goes “If the trumpet gives an uncertain sound who will hear?” But I assured her that deep down in the minister’s heart and mind there was plenty of doubt and uncertainty. For it seems to me that some religion is made for the pulpit and shouting and certainty -- the eternity of God’s moral truth, the destruction of rebellious evil, the shout of faith. But there is some part of religion, humbleness, the bended knee, the question of the mysterious -- that is made for the altar and kneeling bench, for whispers of only hope and heart.

 

Daniel Williams, a noted Congregational theologist in one of his books speaks of the sensitive minister today as one who has to tread a difficult tight-rope of doctrine, “where the lights are dim and the very stars seem to wander.” The more you think about the tenets of faith the more that is so. But it is not only to faith but it applies to all personal traits. I've used this before; I use it for the funeral of one of our friends and it goes like this: “When one has found a man who is gentle in speech, cheerful in manner, tolerant in judgment, who lives uprightly and unselfishly loving deeds more the creeds, friendship more than favor, a man who gives without thought of return, being wronged, is ready to forgive and being misunderstood still keeps his faith, a kindly man of wholesome thought, uplifted spirit and resolute purpose to do the will of God, mark him well that man is a Christian.” The grace of humbleness and goodness is what is needed today -- not roughness and division. But there is more than grace here in this twisted cross, there is action and there is movement.

In the older crosses, as I see it, your eyes would stop at the end of a beam as though it were an entity in itself but in this our “twisted cross” there is for me a sense of aliveness -- the whole cross is alive with movement and action -- a quality that religion of today must have.

 

Do you remember the scene in the great book Lloyd C. Douglas, the “Magnificent Obsession,” a book which was made into a movie? Phyllis, the main character, is feeling very sorry for herself; she believes she has been unjustly wronged and judged by another who was a friend; she is boiling mad and seething with hatred. She come into the rector’s office, the rector is crippled in body but brilliant in mind, with a tirade of bitterness on her lips. And he hears her for a moment and then he stops her bluntly and says, “Phyllis, go out into the chapel and look at the figure of Christ and see what hatred did and is doing to the world.” Now there is one way to know Christ well and that is to seek Him in meditation and prayer, but there is another way and that is to find Him in action and service. The scripture says that he that doeth the will of God shall know of the doctrine whether it be of God or not.

 

In England in the 19th century, I would say that there were two outstanding Christians. One was Cardinal John Henry Newman whom I spoke about a few Sundays ago as the author of that great sermon “The Expulsive Power of a New Affection,” in which Newman said that only the love of Christ could drive out evil from our hearts. Newman was a scholar and a philosopher and even a bit of a mystic. He wrote, as you know, that beautiful hymn that w well could have used this morning, “Lead, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom, Lead Thou me on. The night is dark and I am far from home. Lead Thou me on. Keep Thou my feet, I do not ask to see the distant scene, one step enough for me.” Newman approached religion through prayer, study and faith and he loved his Christ. The other outstanding religious leader of the 19th century was General William Booth, the founder of the Salvation Army. As I remember, he was first an uneducated itinerant preacher. He couldn't hold a candle in thought or culture finesse to Newman, but he loved the souls of men so much that in helping them find a better life he showed his love of God and Christ. One came from and through God and Christ in meditation to love people; the other came through love of people to love and serve God. Both are needed, but in this stuffy, stratified, self-oriented church of today we need the action and movement the “twisted cross” symbolizes.

 

But there is one more thing this twisted cross says to me. It means penetration; it means getting out of the sanctuary into the world. The rigid, straight crosses seem to me to confine the cross to the walls of a church. But this grace, this movement and action has a feel about it that it penetrates outward, out of these sacred walls, so that the cross gets out of the sanctuary to bless the world. And here is a great need for the Church of God today. Make no mistake about it, we need what happens in the church and I shall never de-emphasize that, but when religion stays in the church it stinks. Do you remember the words of the Reverend Mr. Griffith in “How Green Was My Valley” who after forty years of ministering to the Welch congregation through thick and thin and trying to help them see the message of God, said at the end, “All I can say is, they put on black and sat in chapel.” The greatest procession in the church, the greatest musterings of robes and gown, of crowns and miters, of swinging incense pots and pomp galore is nothing compared to one disciple of Christ going out into the world to be of service. This is our gospel; not only that the church shall be redeemed, but that the world shall be saved. And in the words of Vachel Lindsay, we sing “This is our faith tremendous. Our sure hope, who shall scorn that in the name of Jesus the world shall be reborn?” Grace, Action and Movement, Penetration into the world -- Let this cross symbolize our fellowship.