Tuesday, August 9, 2005
"Marked with Christ's Cross"
Mark Allan Powell, Leatherman Professor of New Testament
Trinity Lutheran Seminary, Columbus, Ohio

Last February, I walked into Trinity Lutheran Seminary on a Thursday morning and passed two women students in the hallway. One of them was crying. I didn't want to get involved in that. It might be a boyfriend issue or something else that was decidedly none of my business, but then I heard the phrase "even the children," and I knew why she was sobbing. The night before had been Ash Wednesday and for the first time in her life she had done what many church leaders do: stood at the front of a sanctuary with a bowl of oil and ashes. She had put dirty crosses on foreheads and told everyone - even the children - that they were going to die: "Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return."

We of the ELCA have been marked with this cross of Christ forever. What does it mean to be marked with Christ's cross? It means, of course, that we know we are going to die, but it means more than that.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer said, "When Jesus Christ calls someone, he bids them come and die." What did he mean? For Bonhoeffer himself, those words proved literally prophetic: he died a martyr's death, murdered by Nazis for doing what his faith in Jesus Christ compelled him to do. But for most of us, the call to "come and die" will not be so literal. How will we answer that call? What does it mean for us to be marked with the cross of Christ?

We will briefly consider a story as is told in the Gospel of Mark, for the story of Jesus in that book is framed with stories of Baptism and a cross. At the beginning of the Gospel of Mark, when Jesus is baptized, three things happen: 1) the heavens are torn asunder. They don't just open, they are ripped; the Greek word is schidzo; 2) the Spirit enters Jesus; and 3) a voice from heaven proclaims Jesus to be God's own son.

Then, when we get to the end of Mark's Gospel, to the story of Jesus' death, we find that once again three things happen: 1) The curtain of the temple is torn asunder schidzo: it rips from top to bottom; 2) Jesus expires which is to say that the breath or spirit goes out of him; and 3) a voice - this time the voice of the army officer responsible for his execution - proclaims him to be truly the Son of God.

So, we have a parallel pattern:

At His Baptism: At His Death: heavens torn, curtain torn, spirit comes, spirit leaves, voice says, "Son," voice says, "Son."

The events of Jesus' death reprise those of his Baptism in a way that suggests the two moments are similar: his Baptism is like his death and his death is like his Baptism.

This connection between Baptism and death is made elsewhere in the New Testament. The Apostle Paul says, "Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus have been baptized into his death?" (Romans 6:3).

And, so, today, when we baptize someone we trace a sign of the cross on that person's forehead, and we say, "Child of God, you have been sealed with the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever." Why the cross - a symbol of death? Why not something happier? Flowers, butterflies, liturgical face-painting to accompany Baptisms? Well, we take those babies and we put crosses on their foreheads.

What Paul suggests is that Baptism is not just the beginning of something new; it is also the end of something old. It's not just a new birth, but also a death. The new life in God has begun; the old life apart from God has ended. The life that we live now between Baptism and death is marked by the cross of Christ. It is marked by what has happened at our Baptism, and by what will happen at our death.

Exactly what does that mean? Well, as Mark tells it, Baptism and death are moments when things get torn asunder: the heavens themselves and the curtain in the temple. What did these two things have in common? The firmament of the heavens and the curtain that hung in the temple were barriers that separated people from God. When people looked up at the heavens, they thought, "God is on the other side of that sky thing," and when they worshiped in the temple, they thought, "God is on the other side of that curtain." Now, the Bible tells us, those barriers are ripped away: God will no longer live up in the clouds or stay in some special building. At Baptism and at death, God removes the barriers.

At my Baptism, God came into my life, ripping away much that would keep us apart. My sins, for instance. My sins can no longer keep me from God. I have been washed clean of sin. My sins have been nailed to the cross. I may be only dust, but I am baptized dust. Like everything else, my sins have been marked with the cross of Christ forever. That barrier - that barrier of sin - is gone! Hallelujah!

But other barriers remain. I'm not quite as close to God yet as I would like to be. Are you? We see through a glass darkly; we know only in part. This brain of mine is not able to comprehend the whys and wherefores of a God whose ways are not our ways and whose thoughts are not our thoughts. And this mortal flesh of mine keeps breaking down - getting tired, getting sick, craving things that are not good for it. Good news! God is going to remove those barriers too - rip them asunder, tear them apart. But not just yet. That is reserved for the moment of our death.

Baptism and death: these are moments that are especially marked with the cross of Christ - moments when barriers are removed, when the walls that separate us from God are taken away.

But now, in the meantime, I live a life that is marked by that cross. What does that mean? Allow me to offer three suggestions - actually three homiletical exhortations - regarding what I think it means for us right now to be people marked with the cross of Christ forever.

First, it means let us be who we are: baptized people reconciled with God through the miracle of grace alone. We are not justified by the goodness of our works or  by the correctness of our ideologies. We are justified by the grace that God has already shown to us in Baptism. So, let us take ownership of that and just be who we are! We are a church of sinners, reconciled with God through Baptism. Our identity as God's people does not depend on our always getting everything right or doing what pleases God. Now, I grant being right is a whole lot better than being wrong - and pleasing God is a whole lot better than not pleasing God, but the Good News is, even when we do get things wrong, we are still God's people justified by grace! How liberating is that? We can be wrong and still be baptized! If we boast at all, let it be of our failings, for where we are weak, there Christ is strong. The ELCA is not the sinless church that always gets everything right. We are the church of failures, losers and sinners - a community of persons who have no right to be here apart from the fact that we have been marked with the cross of Christ in Baptism. Let us not forget that; let's just be who we are.

Second, let us try as best we can to be who we will be. Some day, after that final separation of death has passed, when the world, the flesh, and the devil assail us no more - some day we will be selfless servants, more interested in bearing each other's burdens than in stumping for our own priorities, more likely to ask "what's important to you?" than to insist on what's important to me. Some day, when all the barriers are down, we will be people who love God with all of our hearts and souls and minds. We will be people who love our neighbors and even our enemies as ourselves. We will people who love with the sort of love that does not insist on its own way - a love that bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Some day, that is who we will be. So, if we cannot be that right now, I suggest, we might at least practice. Let us practice for our future, so that perhaps it will not be quite so big a shock when it finally arrives. Let us practice right now being the people who, some day, we will be.

And finally, let us note the plurality of this reference: we are marked with the cross of Christ forever. For the baptized, this is our primary identity, a primary orientation. Baptism, defines who we are in a way that nothing else does. As individuals we may describe who we are with reference to all kinds of things: race, gender, nationality, political party, ideological views. But Baptism - Baptism defines our identity in a way that is more profound and permanent. Baptism defines who we are in Christ; indeed, it defines who we will always be.

We must recognize, then, the bond of commonality that baptism brings. I am a White American male. But you know what? I have more in common with a Black African woman who is baptized than I do with other White American males who are not. Baptism is our primary identification, and I'm the first to admit that it doesn't always feel that way. Last November, in swing-state Ohio, I sometimes felt like I had more in common with unbaptized members of my political party than I did with baptized members of the opposing party. Sure, it felt that way, but to note the truth, I go to the Bible and not my own feelings, and the Bible teaches that those who are marked with the cross of Christ are united in ways that transcend all other factors, including values, beliefs and commitments. Believe it. It's true. We are united by God. We are united by what God has done for us in Jesus Christ. We are not even united by our understanding of what God has done for us; we are united by what God has done.

The Apostle Paul says that whoever has been baptized into Christ has put on Christ. Baptism defines who we truly are and, indeed, who we will always be. Death will reveal all, and when that second barrier is ripped away, what will remain? I don't know what it will be like in heaven. I don't know if I will still be male in heaven. I'm pretty sure I won't be White; I don't think I'll be American. I might not even be Lutheran! But here is the point, which I hope is non-controversial: I will be baptized! And even then - perhaps especially then - I will be marked with the cross of Christ, because, friends, that's forever.

Now it seems that we're done, and I pretty much am, but you get to do something. I would like for us all to join now in an activity together that will involve some personal reflection and, then, brief discussion, perhaps, with those seated around us.

First, let me direct your attention to the text of scripture printed on the screen:

Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus have been baptized into his death? Therefore we have been buried with him by baptism into death so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life. (Romans 6:3-4).

I'm going to ask that we all read this text together, in unison:

[Whole assembly reads the text aloud]

Now we're going to do something a little bit spooky - Holy Ghost spooky. We're going to use our imaginations. I'm going to ask us all to engage this text in a way that is intense and personal. Please close your eyes and focus your thoughts with me on the passage in silent meditation.

Here's what I want you to do. I want you to imagine that your Baptism is a doorway - a door that leads from the old life apart from God to the newness of life in Christ. I'm asking you to remember your Baptism, but not in a literal sense. Perhaps you were baptized as a baby and remember nothing of the actual event. We're not remembering the external event, but the spiritual one. We are remembering what truly happened - what God did. So think of a doorway. You are on one side, in a life apart from God. On the other side is newness of life. You are going to pass through that door. What does that feel like, just knowing that you are going to pass through that door? But wait: when you go through the door you will be changed - you will leave some things behind. There are things about this old life that will not survive Baptism. Paul says they will be buried with Christ; they will be dead, and they will stay dead. So, as you imagine going through the door from the old life to the new, what is it that you will leave behind? What is it that will not survive? How will you be changed?

And now, in our imagination, let us go through. Leave the old life without God and enter into newness of life in Christ. Go through the door. What is new? Many things are new. Everything is new, but what do you notice? What is new about you? Or about this world that you have entered? Newness of life in Christ. Where has your Baptism brought you? Think about that for just a moment: what is new?

All right, let's open our eyes and return to now. Oh, look! Here we are at the Churchwide Assembly in Orlando, with a lot of work still to be done. But before we get to that work I'm going to ask you to take just a few minutes to discuss the two questions now that will be printed on the screen. Get together quickly in a group of just three or four, and let each person in your group answer the questions. Think of your baptism as a door that leads from the old life apart from God to the "newness of life" in Christ.

1. What did you leave behind when you went through that door?

2. What did you find to be new on the other side?

Gather now with two or three others and let each one answer those questions.