Book Release: The Mystery of the Cross

Christianity is founded on the mystery of the cross of Christ.—Pope Leo the Great

Ancient Byzantine artists contributed a spectacular art form to Christian history by creating mosaics of biblical characters and stories, along with Christian signs and saints. Mosaicists pieced together tesserae—small pieces of stone, marble, or glass—to create enormous images on church walls, ceilings, and floors. Visiting a Byzantine church merits constant neck craning, looking up and down, at these intricate creations.

In 549 AD Archbishop Maximianus consecrated Ravenna, Italy’s new basilica, Saint Apollinare en Classe. He named the building after Saint Apollinare, an early martyr and the first Bishop of Ravenna, allegedly appointed by the apostle Peter himself. Walking up the nave, visitors gaze increasingly upward as they approach the apse image of Saint Apollinare with outstretched arms, flanked by the sheep of Christ’s flock. It’s a fitting tribute to a holy man who endured repeated beatings for his faith and persistent ministry to Christians.

However, a dominant image looms above the revered bishop, indicating its preeminence. It’s a large, gemmed cross with a small bust portrait of Christ positioned at the axis. Perhaps the mosaic’s designer wanted to remind worshipers that even our most devout service and sacrifices cannot compare to Christ’s sacrificial victory. He wanted us to remember the meaning and mystery of the cross.


Early Christians and the Cross
When I began studying early Christian art at mid-life, I discovered how much ancient believers revered Christ’s cross. They felt compelled to touch, honor, and memorialize it. Christians passed along stories about its power, history, and mystery. They replicated the cross in humble homes and grand basilicas, on catacomb walls and stone sarcophagi. Still, they knew the Savior, not the actual cross itself, had ushered in salvation and radically changed their lives. The sign of the cross prompted them to remember, follow, and glorify the Lord. This simple sign increased their devotion to Christ.

As obvious as this cross appreciation seems, as a Protestant I hadn’t encountered many of the long-established art, signs, legends, rituals, festivals, and extra-biblical stories related to Christ’s cross. Not because I didn’t care; for the most part, I didn’t know they existed. My church tradition hadn’t taught them. As I sat in the classroom and studied at home, I thought: This is fascinating. Has this information been here all along? Why haven’t I heard about this? I had lots of catching up to do. I wanted to understand the breadth of early Christianity and its relationship to the cross, the faith’s core and widely known symbol.

As I researched and studied further, art and history about the cross both inspired and surprised me. The horror and audacity, simplicity and splendor, reverence and sincerity, captured my imagination. Early Christians so honored the cross, Byzantine religious leaders banned its image in floor mosaics so it wouldn’t be stepped on. Somewhere in church history we’d misplaced this sacredness, and perhaps the earliest Christians guarded what we’ve now lost. On the other hand, certain stories and practices stretched me too far. I couldn’t believe the superstitions or every extra-biblical story. Nor could I condone later abuses that pedaled the cross for money and miracles. Then and now, kitschy crosses outnumbered the liturgical ones. Still, somewhere in between, early Christians taught me remarkable, life-changing lessons about the cross.

When I shared sign-of-the-cross anecdotes with friends and family, they usually responded by saying, “I didn’t know that.” Or, “It’s interesting. Tell me more.” As a result, I wrote The Mystery of the Cross. It begins by addressing pre-Christian crosses and then the cross-related art, life, and worship of early believers during the first millennium. The chapters are both informational and devotional, prompting you to consider not just the early Christians, but the cross’s influence on you, too. Perhaps what you read will also be transformational.


Ancient Cross, Contemporary Life
If you haven’t considered the cross beyond weekend worship, tapping into these images and stories can broaden and deepen, renew or strengthen, your commitment to Christ. Exploring the art, uses, history, and mystery of the cross can validate its centrality to the Christian faith. Meditating on its enduring meaning can help apply its power and principles to everyday matters.

Accordingly, The Mystery of the Cross invites you to read intriguing stories about the sign of the cross, ponder their meaning, and consider how these anecdotes speak to you. The 40 short chapters can be read for art appreciation, historical information, personal meditation, spiritual formation, small-group discussion, Lenten observation, and worship insights. Whatever the use, The Mystery of the Cross can help you understand and appreciate the cross’s spiritual work in the world and its power for everyday life.

Most of all, I hope this book witnesses mystery. The apostle Paul wrote about the gospel’s mystery, revealed through Christ and his death on the cross. Irenaeus, a second-century church father, described it when he explained, “By means of a tree, we were made debtors to God. Likewise, by means of a tree [the cross], we can obtain the remission of our debt.” Beyond glorious art, ancient history, and intriguing anecdotes, the cross stands as a symbol of salvation. For reasons beyond my comprehension, the mighty God stooped to conquer evil and forgive sin. This is his eternal commitment. This is the inexpressible value and mystery of the cross.

From the Introduction to
The Mystery of the Cross by Judith Couchman

Released by Inter-Varsity Press, Novemver 2009

Available at Local at Local Bookstores and Online

Coming Soon

Many apologies that you haven't heard from me for awhile. I've been struggling with back problems and working on a deadline. Still, I've been away too long. Look for a blog soon.

Forty Days

Settling into bed late on a Tuesday, two words popped into my head. Forty days.

I immediately caught the significance, but wanted to pretend I didn’t understand because the idea sounded preposterous: too Waldenesque and debilitating to my work schedule and sanity. But guessing this could be a hint from God—someone I hadn’t heard from personally in a long time—I sighed and promised to at least think about it. That night I dreamt about stuffing multiple suitcases in a hurry.

The next day I tentatively dipped into the meaning of forty days. I recognized this number as scripturally significant. I typed “forty days” into a Bible software program and created a roster of characters who’d framed major life events within forty days.

• Noah floated his ark on flood waters while the sky raged for forty days.


• Moses dwelt with the Lord for forty days and inscribed the Ten Commandments. Later he pleaded for forty days, asking God not to destroy the wayward Israelites.


• As a warning, the prophet Ezekiel lay on his right side for forty days to represent Judah’s forty years of sin.


• Jewish spies investigated the Promised Land for forty days before their nation claimed it. Goliath taunted a paralyzed army for forty days before David stepped forward with a sling.


• After a bout with depression, Elijah hiked for forty days to Mount Horeb where God quietly staged the prophet’s comeback.


• The wicked people of Nineveh repented for forty days and repealed God’s judgment.


• Before plunging into ministry, Jesus endured forty scorching days in the desert. For forty days between the Resurrection and the Ascension, he taught his followers about God’s remarkable kingdom.

I couldn’t ignore the pattern. In these stories, forty days passed before a person, a nation, or a circumstance changed. During this time somebody persevered on behalf of people who, whether or not they admitted it, desperately needed God. In Scripture forty days ordained repentance, endurance, instruction, or preparation—and sometimes all these pathways to transformation.

Today Jews and Christians designate forty days for spiritual renewal. Every year observant Jews practice forty days of repentance and fasting, incorporating their major holidays of Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur. Christians mark forty days of Lent before Easter or Pascha. Many fast from at least one food or activity that grips them too tightly.

Symbolically, forty days mark transition. From destruction to restoration; from ignorance to instruction; from weakness to power; from waywardness to renewal; from indifference to commitment; from death to life.

I need forty days.

My Own Forty Days

I need forty days because my spiritual life feels flat. I need guidance. I want to recreate the rhythms of a satisfying relationship with God, to renew my trust in him. I'm looking for a place to retreat for forty days, working half days and devoting the rest of my time to spiritual renewal. I don't feel inclined to fast or shut off all communication. But I think a set-apart time could replenish me, soul and spirit. And this could be the Spirit prompting me. (This certainly isn't something I'd think up on my own--at least not for forty days.)

Yes, I could try accomplishing this at home. But I'd fail. Going away--even if it's just outside my hometown--helps me to focus my wandering mind. I'm not distracted by house chores and daily errands, the phone and visitors, the coffee shops and television.

So I'm praying about forty days: if and when and where. And of course, I'll keep you posted about the experience.

Copyright 2009 Judy C. Couchman (Judith)

Wild Grace

I don't remember the story's details, but its message lingers almost thirty years later. In a small book about Christian love, the theologian Francis Schaeffer told a story about a German church during the Nazi regime of the 1940s. Some of the congregation cooperated with the Nazis. The others did not. At the war's end, both the silent and the resistant congregants had suffered terrible losses. Schaeffer says instead of resentment and retaliation, the two groups practiced forgiveness. These Christians forgave one another and fused the church back together with tender hearts.

This is radical grace. We don't witness it--or participate in it--often enough. I know that I don't, although I assent to Scripture's broad reach of grace. In an unmerited gesture, God rescues us from ourselves. Although we reek with sin and selfishness, he forgives us, guides us, and promises us heaven. If I think about this long enough, God's actions don't make sense. Why would he bother with humans who accuse, ignore, mistrust, and disbelieve him?

Grace.

It's God's deep nature to offer grace to the wretched, the lowly, the rebellious, the disgusting, and the worst of sinners. (See 1 Tim. 1:15-16.) He offers grace to all, even to those who don't think it's necessary but probably desperately need it. God's grace runs untamable, free. A whipping wind when we least expect it. Who can truly describe or explain it?

I just know that I crave grace. In my worst moments I struggle with disbelief, depression, addiction, attention deficits, and broken relationships. Yet God says he'll shine his light into these dark corners: forgiving, healing, rearranging, and delighting in me. He's hard to resist.

So I'm pondering God's wild grace. How I can't live without it. But also how I can extend this grace to others. It's appalling how I can receive grace but not offer it in return. So I'm asking myself, "How can I both accept and express wild grace?"

How can you?

Copyright 2009 Judy C. Couchman (Judith)

Who Is Blessed?

Tonight a newscast reported that the unemployment rate is over nine percent--a big percentage for our nation. At this point, most of us know someone who has lost a job, a home, or part of their income due to this recession. We're living a "new kind of normal," and many feel disappointed that the American dream has betrayed them. We felt meant to prosper.

Some Christians teach that if we give enough, pray enough, and believe enough, God will prosper us financially. But that teaching, though appealing, unsettles me. When I read what Jesus said, he talked most about propsering the soul. He often taught about the kingdom of God, that its values contradict the power-grabbing of the world’s empires or the individual desire to get rich. In fact, most of God's kingdom runs contrary to our culture's idea of success and effectiveness.

In Matthew 5:3-10, Scripture records one of his most poetic and poignant teachings about this kingdom and its citizens.

Blessed are the poor in spirit,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn,
for they shall be comforted.
Blessed are the meek,
for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for rgihteousness,
for they will be filled.
Blessed are the merciful,
for they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart,
for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers,
for they will be called sons of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

According to Jesus, members of God’s kingdom are poor, mournful, meek, hungry, thirsty, merciful, pure, peaceful, and persecuted. I’ve been a Christian since childhood, and I still don’t grasp the blessedness of these beatitudes. Everywhere, the culture tells me to live against the grain of these teachings. When I’m poor, I’m to get rich quick. When I’m mournful, I’m to “buck up.” When I’m meek, I’m to assert myself. If I hunger and thirst for righteousness, I’m too conservative. When I’m merciful, I didn’t receive what’s “due” to me. When I’m pure, I’m straight-laced. When I’m peaceful, I don’t care enough. When I’m persecuted, I should fight back. I’ve been handed this advice from “the world,” but most of it generated from Christians. I’ve offered this advice myself.

Jesus invited us to live in an inverted kingdom. In this kingdom the first shall be last (Mt. 19:30), childlike faith is necessary for citizenship (Lk. 18:17), and it’s hard for a rich person to enter the gates (Mt. 19:24). He also claimed that the kingdom of God is near (Lk. 10:9), as near as the cross he would soon carry. As near as our willingness to repent (Mk. 1:15) and allow his kingdom to live within us (Lk. 17:21).

Perhaps more than ever, we need to ponder this kingdom, to understand that when we're counted among the humbled and needy, Jesus calls us blessed.

Copyright 2009 Judy C. Couchman (Judith)

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Questions about Prayer

God could have answered a simple prayer last week. I was scheduled to teach a two-week art history class at the university, and it only needed eleven students to fulfill the minimal enrollment requirements.

A couple weeks before the starting date, nine students had signed up for the class. No problem, I thought. I'll advertise the class and ask friends to pray with me for at least two more students.

That's what I did.

In the next week, the enrollment dropped to eight students and the dean canceled the class.

I really needed the honorarium connected to that class, and now I'm "down" more than $2,000. I don't understand why, if God rules the universe, he couldn't have nudged the class enrollment up by a mere two students. In fact, for the many years I've been a Christian I've never figured out why God overlooks some of the simplest prayers; requests that seem small for him but would make a big difference for me or others. Instead, a potentially easy answer turns into a baffling difficulty.

In these cases, it feels too simplistic to say sometimes God says "yes" and sometimes he says "no." It feels like a capricious no; a no that doesn't make sense from a loving Father. Even with hindsight, many of these turndowns still don't "compute." They just feel disappointing and a contradiction to Scripture.

For example, consider these verses from the New Testament, spoken by Jesus.

"Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened. Which of you, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!"--Mathew 7:7-11

"Have faith in God," Jesus answered. "I tell you the truth, if anyone says to this mountain, 'Go, throw yourself into the sea,' and does not doubt in his heart but believes that what he says will happen, it will be done for him. Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours."--Mark 11:22-24

Some other verses to consider are John 15:7; Ephesians 6:18; Philippians 4:6-7; James 1:5; 5:16-18.

No doubt, you've wondered about unanswered prayers, too. As a writer and encourager, I feel pressed to offer a satisfying reason for these denials. Something like the oft-repeated explanations, "God knows best" or, "Someday we'll understand." I'd rather say, "Prayer is a mystery." This approach feels more honest. There are some things we don't understand and God doesn't explain them.

So the questions become: Will we believe what Jesus said about prayer? Will we keep the faith?Will we continue to pray?

I'd love to read your answers, comments, and questions . . .

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The Art of Faith

But what does this mean?

Long before I studied art history, I gazed at ancient Christian art and asked this question. Although an editor and writer by profession, I migrated toward art, visiting museums while traveling and taking advantage of exhibits in my hometown. I bounded up the steps at the Chicago Art Institute and the Metropolitan Museum of Art, looked at every painting and sculpture possible, and eventually wound up stumped.

As I shifted back and forth on throbbing feet, pondering a famous medieval triptych or Renaissance tapestry, I identified a few biblical figures or something as obvious as a unicorn. Flowers, animals, symbols, religious objects, and odd people crammed backgrounds and spilled into borders. But if the curator hadn’t posted their meanings, theses images felt as good as invisible. Giving up, I usually wandered off to the Impressionists, who despite their imprecise brushstrokes, communed with me.

Still, I didn’t lose my interest in Christian art. I considered it my religious heritage—something that could enrich me spiritually—and I wanted to decipher it. Over the years I began studying art history, one class at a time, and when I reached early Christian and medieval art, my soul shifted. As the professor’s slide show illumined a dark classroom, I envisioned God’s creative hand hovering above history, imprinting the world through artists and their works. With a sprinkling of symbology, Christian art finally blossomed for me. I longed to learn more. I also wanted to infiltrate aspects of Christian art into my writing, helping the curious to better understand this faith’s visual metaphors. Perhaps as it did for me, deciphering Christian art would sharpen their spiritual outlook and deepen their understanding of church history.

Over time I earned a master’s degree in art history and in addition to my writing career, I began teaching art history part-time at a local university, focusing on ancient through medieval art. In many of these classes it’s important that students learn the forms of Christian art, along with how to identify its eras, themes, and stories; read its symbolism; and analyze specific works. Unfortunately, I’ve not found one source that simply and concisely teaches these steps. Art history books overview forms and timeframes. Symbolism dictionaries list signs and symbols. Religious texts teach themes and stories. Primers outline the elements of art and its analysis. Byzantine texts explain iconography.

Consequently, based on my experiences and observations, I’ve wanted a book that students, readers, travelers, museum visitors, church goers, and others can easily carry and consult to interpret Christian art. Besides unraveling art mysteries, it could answer questions, enhance faith, heighten worship, and perhaps cultivate a few armchair art historians.

After much thought and some prayer, I believe I can write this book, combining my roles of seasoned professional writer and modest art historian. In fact, I’m passionate about creating a guidebook with an accessible writing style and length that most anyone could use to learn the basics—or supplement formal studies—about the wonders of Christian art.

So that's the book I'm writing now, only two weeks after completing my last manuscript. The Art of Faith is an easy reference guide to understanding Christian art and architecture. The deadline feels daunting, so I'd appreciate your prayers.

I hope when The Art of Faith releases in 2010 (Paraclete), the book will help you better understand your spiritual heritage. Early Christians were called People of the Book. But they also were people of the image. Art played an important role in spreading, communicating, and commemorating the faith. Exploring art can grow your faith, too.

Angel by Fra Angelico, 15th Century

--Copyright 2009 by Judy C. Couchman (Judith)

The Pleasure of the Process

In the late 1950s the revered editor Katharine S. White began writing a series of 14 articles about gardening for The New Yorker, sprung from her love for perusing seed catalogs and planting the "finds" from her research. Her surprised husband, the writer E. B. White, had never considered Katharine an expert on horticultural matters, but conceded that her self-taught knowledge rivaled that of gardening professionals.

However, writing about gardening was another matter. In his introduction to Katharine's book, Onward and Upward in the Garden, a posthumous compilation of the popular articles, E. B. wrote, "Katharine's act of composition achieved the turbulence of a shoot-out. The editor in her fought the writer every inch of the way; the struggle was felt all through the house. She would write eight or ten words, then draw her gun and shoot them down."

To her husband's delight, Katharine's near-death encounters with writing paid off. Her articles met with enthusiasm, and she developed a loyal readership through the years. But for Katharine, it was the act of gardening--not merely writing about gardening--that produced immeasurable satisfaction.

Enjoying the Process

Katharine enjoyed the process of gardening as much or more than its outcome, and she spontaneously visited her flowerbeds whenever the mood hit her. E. B. described his wife as a "spur-of-the-moment escapee from the house." He reminisced, "I seldom saw [Katharine] prepare for gardening, she merely wandered out into the cold and the wet, into the sun and warmth, wearing whatever she had put on that morning. Once she was drawn into the fray, once involved in transplanting or weeding or thinning or pulling off deadheads, she forgot all else; her clothes had to take things as they came. I, who was the animal husbandryman on the place, in blue jeans and an old shirt, used to marvel at how unhesitatingly she would kneel in the dirt and begin grubbing about, garbed in a spotless cotton dress or handsome tweed skirt and jacket. She simply refused to dress down to a garden; she moved in elegantly and walked among her flowers as she walked among her friends--nicely dressed, perfectly poised. If when she arrived indoors the Ferragamos were encased in muck, she kicked them off. If the tweed suit was a mess, she sent it to the cleaner's."

Whether we dress the part in boots or arrive unexpectedly in designer shoes, most of all gardening is about enjoying the work, not just the results, which a seasoned gardener will admit is never finished. (There is always one more weed to pull, another space to fill.) If we don't find pleasure in the process of gardening--of plotting and planting, of experimenting and exhuasting our resources but nonethless feeling grand--then we've missed the point. We've disembarked at the Shoot-Out Corral, and before we kill our spirits, we should probably adopt a different pastime.

On the other hand, gardening can teach us to savor the moments. If we free ourselves to enjoy the process, to love what we do while we're doing it, then most likely the garden will satisfy us for a lifetime. Writing aside, Katharine knew how to participate wholly in the moment, to enjoy the process. Ferragamos and all, she's an example we can follow.

Whatever our pursuit, if we only focus on the end result, we'll miss the process. Completing projects, raising children, or seeking spiritual transformation, we can cherish the moments. If we'll wander into the work without an agenda, we can find a hidden treasure and pleasure in the process.

--Adapted from A Garden's Promise, copyright 1997 by Judy C. Couchman

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Carpe Diem

Last Sunday after church I stopped at my friend Melinda's house. I noticed something new lying on her coffeetable: a watercolor painting.

"Did you paint this?" I asked, admiring the colorful landscape.

"Yes, but years ago," she answered with a caveat, as if the artwork didn't "count" because it wasn't painted recently. "But I want to start painting again," she added. Later in the conversation, Melinda showed me three old violins she's taking to the repair shop, so she can start playing them.

"Last week's events motivated me to get on with my life--to do the things I put off," she explained.

"Yes, I can understand why," I said. The week before, a college student from our church, home on spring break, burned to death in a freak accident at a gas station. While filling up her gas tank, another driver slammed into a waiting vehicle. This created a horrific chain-of-events that pinned Whitney against a gas pump. It burst into flames and she couldn't escape. The incident stunned our community.

This was the same week the actress Natasha Richardson fell while snow skiing, suffered a brain bleed, and died within 24 hours.

Melinda said she hated it took somebody else's death to motivate her life.

I understood.

Last night I finished a book by a man who claimed that for many years, he felt absent from his own life. He'd submerged himself in work, writing sitcoms and film fantasies. After a career, marriage, and location shakeup, he finally "got a life." He's happier now. I understood this, too. As a writer, it's too easy to live on the page instead of in the present. Deadline and income-making pressures divert me from taking time off, doing the things I love. But when an 18-year-old girl loses her life, I realize it's time to reclaim mine.

This morning I pulled down a stack of books from a shelf, dusted them off, and set them on the kitchen table. The books comprise a self-learning Latin course I'd started several months ago and enjoyed, but dropped because of book deadlines. I'm going to start again.

As the ancient Romans would say, carpe diem. I'm going to "seize the day." I'm going to seize my life.

--Copyright 2009 by Judy C. Couchman (Judith)

Excerpt: A Good Friday

Earlier I commented that I'd post a few more chapters from my book, The Mystery of the Cross, as we draw near to Passion Week. I'm keeping my promise. Here's an entry about a dramatic re-enactment of Christ's death and resurrection in a medieval liturgy. Fascinating! If you attend a liturgical church, you might observe some similarities to the Good Friday service that you celebrate.


“Let’s decide by lot who will get it.” This happened that the scripture might be fulfilled which said, “They divided my garments among them and cast lots for my clothing.” So this is what the soldiers did.—John 19:24

Early on, the English displayed a flair for the dramatic. Long before Shakespeare, a tenth-century Good Friday liturgy drew worshipers into the tragedy of God forsaking his Son on the cross. Taken from the Regularis Concordia, a Benedictine monastic code created for “the English nation,” the service integrated biblical enactment and songs into the liturgical readings. Scholars believe the roots of Western theater reach back to this solemn ceremony and its “stripping of the altar.”

In the afternoon on Good Friday, the service began with prayerful silence, followed by readings from the Old Testament books of Exodus and Hosea. The prophet Hosea set a repentant, prophetic tone for the liturgy. “Come, let us return to the Lord. He has torn us to pieces but he will heal us; he has injured us but he will bind up our wounds. After two days he will revive us; on the third day he will restore us, that we may live in his presence” (6:1-2). To this plea the Lord replied, “Your love is like the morning mist, like the early dew that disappears. . . For I desire mercy, not sacrifice, and acknowledgement of God rather than burnt offerings” (vss. 4, 5).

After responses from the psalms and prayers, a friar read the Passion account from the Gospel of John. According to instructions in the Regularis Concordia, during this reading two deacons stalked the altar “like thieves.” When the reader reached the sentence, “They divided my garments among them,” the deacons stripped away the altar cloth lying under the gospel book, spoiling the sacred arrangement. Both the altar and the book represented Christ’s presence. So in essence, the deacons assaulted the Lord’s body before his death, mimicking ruthless Romans guards. Intercessory prayers followed the Passion reading and prepared congregants for honoring the cross.

Next, during mournful songs, monks placed a cloth-covered cross in front of the altar. The lyrics asked, “My people, what have I done to you?” with the response, “Holy God, Holy and Strong, Holy Immortal One, have mercy on us!” Gradually, monks unveiled the cross and placed it on a cushion. The Regularis Concordia directed, “As soon as it has been unveiled, the abbot shall come before the holy Cross and shall prostrate himself thrice with all the brethren of the right hand side of the choir, that is, seniors and juniors; and with deep and heartfelt sighs shall say the seven penitential psalms and the prayers in the honor of the Holy Cross.”

Retelling the Resurrection
Denuding the altar, mourning through song, and repenting with sighs recalled the agony of Christ’s death, but the ritual also prepared Christians for Easter Sunday’s glory. After congregants mourned Christ, deacons wrapped the cross in a cloth and buried it in an improvised sepulchre, a curtain drawn around part of the altar. The written instructions required that “the holy Cross shall be guarded with all reverence until the night of the Lord’s Resurrection. And during the night let brethren be chosen by twos and threes, if the community be large enough, who shall keep faithful watch, chanting psalms.”

Before the congregation returned for Easter Sunday mass, a monk removed the cross, leaving behind the linen cloth. On Easter Sunday the drama reached its joyous conclusion. Three monks dressed in copes represented the three Marys carrying spices, and another monk wearing an alb played the angel at Christ’s tomb. They recited the biblical questions and answers at the empty sepulchre.

“Whom do you seek?” asked the angel.

“Jesus of Nazareth,” the women replied.

“He is not here. He is risen,” said the angel.

The Resurrection angel sang to the three Marys, “Come and see the place [where the Lord had been laid, alleluia.]” He lifted the curtain and revealed an empty tomb, except for Christ’s shroud left behind. The Regularis Concordia instructed the monks to “take up the shroud and spread it out before the clergy; and, as if demonstrating that the Lord has risen and is not now wrapped in it, let them sing this antiphon: The Lord has risen from the sepulchre ... And let them lay the cloth upon the altar.”
Then the church bells rang. In word and deed, Christ had risen.

Glorying in the Cross Today
Many features of the dramatic Good Friday service from the Regularis Concordia survive in today’s liturgies. Ceremonies begin with solemn silence and end with splendid anticipation. Whatever our worship tradition, the Good Friday liturgy and its anthems can draw us to the ultimate joy of the cross.

We glory in your cross, O Lord,
and praise and glorify your holy resurrection;
for by virtue of your cross
joy has come to the whole world.

May God be merciful to us and bless us,
show us the slight of his countenance, and come to us.

Let you ways be known upon earth,
your saving health among all nations.

Let the peoples praise you, O God;
let all the people praise you.

We glory in your cross, O Lord,
and praise and glorify your holy resurrection;
for by virtue of your cross
joy has come to the world.

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Excerpt: A Lamp for the Darkness

Here's another sneak peek at the book I'm working on, The Mystery of the Cross. It's a book about the cross in the art, life, and worship of the early Church. Currently, I'm working on revisions. I hope this excerpt provides food for thought. We're in Lent, a time to think about the cross. I'll post a couple more as we approach Easter. You're reading an unedited version of this chapter.


You, O lord, keep my lamp burning; my God turns my darkness into light.—Psalm 18:28

Several years ago I visited a one-room biblical archaeology museum attached to a small Christian university. The docent fascinated our group with ancient artifacts, handing them out so we could touch Scripture’s history. I remember examining a clay pot and holding facsimiles of iron nails used for a Roman crucifixion. The spike-sized nails evoked murmurs as they passed from one person to another, but the object that stirred me most slipped into my hands quietly. It’s so small, I thought. The archaic oil lamp, in remarkably good condition, fit in the palm of my hand.

While reading biblical metaphors about oil lamps, or looking at them in museum catalogs, I’d imagined vessels much larger than this. How did a traveler find his way in the darkness with such a tiny, fluttering flame? How did a mother sweep a floor, straighten the house, or snuggle her children into bed? Obviously, these people knew something more than I did—something wise and almost mysterious—about navigating the night.

Later I thought about Old and New Testament references to lamp light. “The Israelite psalmist wrote, “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path” (Ps. 119:105). An ancient proverb claimed, “The light of the righteous shines brightly, but the lamp of the wicked is snuffed out” (Pr. 20:2). While telling the parable about a woman who lost a coin, Jesus asked, “Does she not light a lamp, sweep the house and search carefully until she finds it?” (Lk. 15:8). Most likely, early Christians understood lamp metaphors in practical ways unfamiliar to me. Every day in shadowy rooms, every evening when the sun descended, they lit oil lamps to illumine shades of darkness.

Carving Out Religious Beliefs
As far back as 3500 BC, oil lamps served as light sources for civilizations. However, pottery lamps didn’t flourish until about the eighth or seventh century bc. These simple, wheel-thrown vessels looked like saucers with turned-up edges, with wicks immersed in olive or vegetable oil and draped over the edges. Later the Greeks innovated by enclosing their lamps and adding spouts, handles, and glazes. During the Hellenistic Age and the early centuries of Christianity, lamps created from molds of clay, stone, or plaster dispersed as much as those shaped on pottery wheels.

Aside from increasing production, molds allowed elaborate designs and three-dimensional figures to appear on lamps created for religious ceremonies or wealthy patrons. At the same time, factories mass produced undecorated lamps, either for humble homes or Jews whose religious tradition prohibited graven images. Pottery makers stamped the bottom of these popular firmalampen with the factory owner’s name. Archaeologists today still unearth these stamped lamps throughout the former Roman Empire, while digging up settlements and burial sites.

The Herodian lamp—named after the reign of Herod the Great—populated Palestine’s hill country and cities from about 50 bc to 70 ad. It’s possible that this lamp evolved in Jerusalem or a nearby location. To create the Herodian lamp, potters shaped a circular, wheel-made body with a wide spout applied by hand. A hole in the middle of the base accommodated filling the lamp with oil, and the spout’s opening held the wick and its flame.

Jesus probably envisioned this lamp when he told the parable about ten maidens waiting for the bridegroom (Mt. 25:1-12), or explained to his listeners, “You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house” (5:14-15). Obviously, Jesus referred to the spiritual light that identified people as his followers. Still, almost 2,000 years later, actual oil lamps have helped archaeologists pinpoint ancient Christian activity.

In late antiquity, oils lamps often expressed religious beliefs with symbols or inscriptions. Pottery workshops in Cyprus, Greece, Egypt, North Africa, and Syria-Palestine manufactured lamps portraying pagan gods, Jewish menorahs, and Christian crosses. When archaeologists recover lamps with crosses, they tentatively assume a Christian community resided nearby. For example, researchers discovered lamps with crosses in an ancient funerary complex at Tel el-Fûl, north of Jerusalem. The crosses indicated that Christians settled in that area 1,600 years ago.

Lamps with crosses flooded the Roman Empire in the fourth and fifth centuries, after Christianity became the religion of emperors. Constantine’s monogram of the cross was a favorite symbol, either stamped on a lamp’s body or extended as the handle. Art historians theorize that these crosses symbolized the banishment of spiritual darkness. It’s an apt metaphor. As early Christians held out their lamps and stepped carefully into the darkness, they could see crosses guiding them. Literally, the sign of the cross was a light for their paths. But even more, Christ’s cross shed light on their world’s spiritually dark places.

Shining Into a Dark World
“The mystery of the cross shines bright,” wrote the Bishop of Poitiers in the sixth century. Listening to the newscasts, we might wonder about the veracity of that long-ago claim. The world seems full of so much darkness. But in our frustration, we can recall early Christians carrying their oil lamps, following the flickering cross-flames before them, casting light on their paths with each footfall. Perhaps they modeled how we can shed light into our world: not with bonfire ideas that blast into the darkness and eventually fade into cinders, but by faithfully inching along in the world’s darkness, extending the light of the cross. “People living in darkness [would see] a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light [would dawn]” (Mt. 4:16). They would see the accumulated light of the cross.

Recently I purchased an inexpensive replica of an oil lamp from fifth-century Alexandria. The lamp sits on my desk and its imprinted cross points at me while I work. It reminds me of the lamp-light promises of Scripture. I want to believe the cross can shine light into any darkness. I need to light a lamp.

--From The Mystery of the Cross

Copyright 2009 by Judy C. Couchman (Judith Couchman)

To be released November 2009

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Judith Couchman offers six seminars you can bring to your church or organization. Based on her books and life experience, she'll inspire your group toward living with grace, purpose, and courage. For more information about these seminars/retreats, or to book an event, contact Judith at judithcouchman@earthlink.net.

1 Designing a Woman's Life
Do you know your purpose in life? Many women say no. But the answer can be a passionate yes! This life-changing seminar can help you and women in your group discover their unique niche in the world.

Based on her book, Designing a Woman’s Life, Judith sensitively helps women explore these questions:

• How can I discover my purpose in life?
• What is vision and how do I develop it?
• How can I stay focused on my purpose?
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• How can I make a difference in this world?

“I have a passion to help women become authentic and celebrate the unrepeatable individuals God created them to be,” says Judith. With wisdom, humor, and compassion, Judith has communicated the principles of purpose to thousands of women. Don’t miss bringing this dynamic speaker and seminar to your group. Become everything God meant you to be.

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2 Living by Grace
You believe in grace, talk about grace, but do you live by grace?

In this practical, thought-provoking seminar, Judith will help you honestly answer these questions for yourself and your relationships. She’ll challenge you to live freely and confidently in God’s “unmerited favor” and lavishly spread it around. This seminar will cultivate these generous attitudes and actions, plus more.

• Defining grace, especially God’s divine grace.
• Offering forgiveness and grace to ourselves.
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Grace is Christ’s foundational message. Grace is our fundamental desire and need. Grace forgives. Grace empowers. Graces transforms relationships. Schedule this seminar, and dare to live by grace.

A one-day seminar or retreat. For women only, or for men and women.


3 Starting Over
Have you lost a job? Ended a relationship? Moved to a new location? Returned to school? Struggled through a divorce? Wrestled with health issues? Become an empty nester? Gotten married? Begun a family? Started a business? Retired?

Life’s transitions ask us to start over, altering our direction and adjusting our outlook. Both the wanted and unwanted transitions of this unpredictable life require adjusting to change. In this practical and inspiring seminar, Judith will help you through the starting-over process, exploring these issues, and more.

• Riding the unexpected emotions of loss and change.
• Forming personal values and connecting them to actions.
• Dealing with doubts, wounds, roadblocks, and feeling stuck.
• Persevering through a transition’s ups and downs.
• Creating a workable, inspiring starting-over plan.
• Daring to dream about your future.

Find hope, direction, and empathy in this seminar, taught by a professional who says she’s “made a career out of starting over.” Soak in her wisdom, humor, and encouragement—and make starting over an adventure.

A two-day seminar or retreat. For women only, or for men and women. Judith recommends that you offer scholarships to people who’ve lost their jobs.


4 The Courage to Write
Do you want to write and publish, but aren’t sure how to start? This seminar will encourage you to begin writing and pursuing your creative ideas. As a writing coach and the author or compiler of over 40 books, Judith has guided many aspiring writers toward their publishing dreams. In this creative seminar, she’ll help you accomplish these get-started tasks, and more.

• Identifying your purpose as a writer.
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Learn from a seasoned author, asking your questions and receiving up-close guidance. Leave with a practical action plan. Become a published writer!

A two-day seminar or retreat, usually from Friday evening until Sunday noon. For women only, or for men and women.


5 The Heart of a Pilgrim
Blessed are those whose strength is in you, who have set their hearts on pilgrimage.—Psalm 84:5.

Many early, medieval, and Renaissance Christians literally plodded, one aching foot after another, to sacred places on earth. Pilgrims brought all their senses—seeing, touching, hearing, smelling, tasting­­­­—to these journeys, and expected spiritual and practical rewards in return. Visiting sacred locations bolstered their faith, touched their souls, and changed their lives.

In this informative and inspiring seminar, Judith describes how ancient sacred travelers can invigorate your spiritual pilgrimage. With engaging stories and images, she applies pilgrimage principles to everyday life, and offers hands-on experiences to bolster your faith journey.

A one- or two-day seminar or retreat. For women only, or for men and women.


6 The Mystery of the Cross
This captivating seminar presents how early Christians honored the message and image of Christ’s cross in their art, life, and worship. Telling poignant stories and illustrating them with absorbing images, Judith applies “the lessons of the cross” to us today.

Based on Judith’s book, The Mystery of the Cross, you’ll learn how Christ’s ancient cross can guide and motivate your post-modern faith, decisions, and actions.

Enlightening and stirring, informative and life-related, this seminar will reach through the ages, connecting you with your earliest brothers and sisters in the Christian faith. Be fascinated. Be inspired. Be empowered by The Mystery of the Cross.

A one-day seminar or retreat. For women only, or for men and women. Can be offered any time during the year, but especially suited for the Lenten season.

Excerpt: Hearts Up

Here's an excerpt from a book I'm working on now, The Mystery of the Cross. It's about early Christian art, worship, and life related to the cross, and will be published in November, 2009.

Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.—Hebrews 12:3

It’s a small box with a big message.

About the size of a shirt pocket, the Fleschi Morgan Reliquary—a masterful work of Byzantine cloisonné enamel—distinguishes itself among True Cross reliquaries. Crafted in the ninth century in Constantinople, the reliquary celebrates not just Christ’s crucifixion, but the abundant and eternal life he promised to his followers.

“The Fleschi Morgan Staurotheke [reliquary of the True Cross] consolidates in a little portable box the grand message of salvation,” observes the art historian Thomas F. Mathews. “On the cover the crucified Christ stands erect and triumphant, his eyes wide open. Sun and moon bear witness to his miraculous death, flowers spring up on all sides, and his powerful outstretched arms shelter the nascent church below.”

Standing under Christ, Mary the virgin and John the apostle represent the early church, and the busts of 27 saints decorate the silver-gilt lid and sides. The lid’s underside divides into four scenes from Christ’s life: the Annunciation, Nativity, Crucifixion, and Anastasis (Resurrection). Turned over, the reliquary’s back features a framed, outlined cross. According to Mathews, the reliquary’s cumulative message is life-giving. He interprets the message as, “Christ descended into hell to bring humanity back to life. The reliquary was a guarantee of life itself.”

Prior to Christ’s arrest and crucifixion, he told the disciples, “The Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders, chief priests and teachers of the law, and he must be killed and on the third day be raised to life” (Lk. 9:22). Christ foretold his resurrection, but as he languished on the cross, or while his body stiffened in the sepulchre, the disciples faced a crisis of confidence. It’s difficult to imagine abundant life when looking at a loved one’s sealed tomb. The early church faced the same dilemma during the emperors’ persecutions. It’s hard to smell heaven’s sweetness when surrounded by death’s defiant stench.

Of course, the disciples soon touched, talked, and walked with the risen Christ. With heads up, they watched his ascension. But how did early Christians hold to the Lord’s promise of life? They practiced the discipline of lifting their hearts up.

Hearts Up to the Lord
One of the oldest liturgical versions of the Lord’s Supper instructed Christians to bring their “hearts up” during the weekly bread-and-wine remembrance of Christ’s death. The Church Order of Hippolytus, written in the third century, initiated the sacrament with this exchange and prayer:

Bishop: The Lord be with you.
Congregation: And with thy spirit.
Bishop: Hearts up.
Congregation: We have them to the Lord
Bishop: Let us give thanks to the Lord.
Congregation: It is meet and right.

Bishop: We thank thee, God, through Thy beloved Servant Jesus Christ, whom in the last times Thou hast sent us as Savior and Redeemer and Messenger of Thy counsel, the Logos who comes from Thee, through whom Thou hast made all things, the virgin, and in her body He became flesh and was shown forth as Thy Son, born of the Holy Spirit and the virgin. To fulfill Thy will and to prepare Thee a holy people, he stretched out his hands, when he suffered, that he might release from suffering those who have believed on Thee. . . .

Whatever life on earth had served that week, on Sunday these early Christians lifted their hearts to the Lord. The liturgy didn’t ask them to “listen up” or focus the mind, but to bring the heart—the repository of private thoughts, deepest longings, and hidden fears—to the Lord. Full of joy or grief, doubt or gratitude, worry or wonder, they remembered Christ’s sacrifice. He suffered to release them from suffering. He died so they could live. Like the message of the reliquary, the hope of eternal life infused their spirits so they would “not grow weary and lose heart” (Heb. 12:3).

Evidently, this bishop’s prayer provided the framework for Eucharist prayers written in successive centuries. Echoing the ancient congregation, “This is meet and right.” Every generation of Christians needs encouragement. We want the assurance that Christ’s sacrifice will someday release us from suffering. To remember his presence and promise, like the early believers we can—weekly, daily, hourly—lift our hearts up.

From the upcoming book, The Mystery of the Cross by Judith Couchman

Copyright 2009

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Here's a great deal. When you sign up as a follower on one of Judith's blogs, you'll receive a free, autographed copy of one of her books. That's a free book for each blog sign-up, so you actually could receive two books! Her blogs include:

Judith Couchman
www.judithcouchman.blogspot.com

Starting Over
www.startingover-judithcouchman.blogspot.com

After you sign up, please send your mailing address to judithcouchman@earthlink.net. The book will be mailed via media mail, so it might take a couple weeks to arrive. Not to worry. If you signed up as a follower before this offer appeared, you can still receive a free book.

Offer good while supplies last.

Starting Over, Part Two

There are two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle. --Albert Einstein

Not long after I wrote my first post, I realized it. These days, hoards of people are starting over. Obviously, the economy contributes to this trend. Anybody who loses a job faces climbing the career mountain all over again, stuffing a bag with grief, questions, and insecurities for the trip. But even if you haven't lost your job recently, we all hit life's roadblocks, can't muster a way around or over them, and need to start over. Or at least take an unexpected detour.

Think about it. Have you ended a relationship? Dashed a dream? Moved to a new location? Returned to school? Struggled through a divorce? Dismantled a business? Suffered a miscarriage? Wrestled with health issues? Become an empty nester? Buried someone you loved? Gotten married? Begun or added to a family? Started a business? Altered your lifestyle? Changed a core opinion? Retired? We start over when we lose, but also when we gain. Both the wanted and unwanted transitions of this unpredictable life require adjusting to change.

Often when we hit an unwanted transition we muddle through, dragging along our regrets, terrors, and resentments. Without realizing it, we construct blockades that discourage and thwart our journey, making us feel worse. But even during a beloved transition, we can plunge in without a road map and hit some damaging potholes. Change can be hard, but it also can usher us into a more meaningful life. I know this sounds like a cliche, especially if you're in pain right now. I bristle at platitudes, too. Yet during my decade of transition (see the first blog), I've learned that starting over can help us clarify our values, grow more authentic, develop character, embrace grace, prune what doesn't work, gather new resources, steady our life's purpose, and sculpt fresh, pliable dreams. We can create our own miracles, emerging wiser and better, even happier.

And isn't that what you want?

If you answered yes, then in addition to this blog, join me at a second blog called Starting Over. While this blog focuses on life, faith, and writing, I'll devote Starting Over to the process of beginning again, for the better. Based on my own starting over, I'll share what I've gleaned through the years. I'll feature guest writers who tell their stories and what they learned. And I'll invite you to respond and share your own stories. I'll also provide questions, activities, excerpts, resources, and a question-and-answer forum to help you manage your own starting-over transition.

Sound good? If so, I'll notify you when the Starting Over blog begins. If you want to read that blog, you can respond to this posting by typing in your name and email address. Or if you prefer privacy, send your email address to me at judithcouchman@earthlink.net, indicating you want to be notified about the new blog's availability.

I'm excited about helping one another through the starting-over process. I'm going to work on the new blog now!

Copyright 2009 Judy C. Couchman (Judith Couchman)

Image: "The Mountain" by Paul Cezanne.