I also remember the first time I walked downtown during December when I returned in my late twenties as the priest at St. John’s Episcopal Church. I remember looking up at the Nativity scene and raising an eyebrow. After all, the Episcopal Church follows the traditional observance of Advent—one that is focused upon silence, prayer, and waiting and not upon an early celebration of Christmas. Nativity scenes are sometimes set-up early in Episcopal churches and homes, but most of the time they are instead set-up after the Fourth Sunday of Advent. If they are set-up earlier in December, the Christ child is never included. The manger is left empty as we wait for his arrival.
Now, the Nativity scene on Dewey hill did not offend me. But I did think it was interesting how one Christian tradition’s approach to Advent dominated the public view in our city. I found it to be an opportunity for good discussion in my parish and at the Theology on Tap event I host downtown (then at Odd Side Ales and now at Joe’s Wooden Nickel—first Tuesday of every month at 7pm!). Many believers were surprised to learn that other believers practice December differently. The diversity of expression was enriching to all.
We often forget that even within Christianity there is diversity of practice. And, as an Anglican, I would affirm that this diversity is a good thing, that it reveals the manifold and rich mystery present in a God who is always beyond our conceptions of the divine.
Over the past couple months, as the controversy over the cross on Dewey Hill has played out in this newspaper and its online website, I have often been disappointed by the anger and strong words of those involved—particularly my brother and sister Christians. When Christians tell non-Christians that their concerns and objections to our symbolism are unimportant, when Christians tell non-Christians that they should move somewhere else if they don’t like the majority Christian culture of our area, I always grimace. I worry about the way this language reinforces the negative views of those who have often by wounded by the church in their past.
I know that for some people the objections to the cross seem to be an attack on the Christian faith. It doesn’t seem like that to me. It seems like a plea for our community to acknowledge its diversity. It seems like an entirely fair and reasonable request by members of our community that one religious perspective not dominate a piece of public land that we all share as citizens of the Tri-Cities. In general, I would prefer an ecumenical and inter-religious use of that land, setting up a variety of symbols or messages that truly reflect our diverse community. However, given the ecological concerns, my hunch is that not using any symbols on that particular piece of property is the best way forward.
Last week’s conversation on the cross, sponsored by this newspaper, seemed to be a fantastic step forward. The panelists, despite their diversity of views, were civil and charitable with each other. In particular, I’m grateful for the Christian witness of my colleagues, the Rev. John Kenny and the Rev. Ray Pagett—affirming the intentions of those who want the cross removed and the importance of embracing diversity in our community.
After all, the most important message I, as a Christian, want anyone who disagrees with the cross to get is this: God loves you. I love you. And if your background, if your journey, makes this symbol difficult to see on public land, then I absolutely support taking it down. Because what matters to me is that non-Christians see followers of Christ as people of grace and mercy, people who value relationships over symbols on public land. And maybe if we respond graciously and take it off public land, people who do not have faith will feel a little more welcomed to come into our churches and talk with us about the crosses we place there.
True, it may hurt to see a symbol of our faith removed from public land. But fundamental to the Christian ethic is not that we display the cross on public land for all to say. Instead, Christian discipleship is, at it’s core, a willingness daily to take up the cross in our own lives, to be willing to die to self, believing that the “other” has deep value to God.
That’s what I’d like to see, I think. Let’s take the cross on public land down and let’s encourage believers instead to take up the cross in their own lives, to be people of love and generosity, who value others more than their selves.
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