A Sign of Contradiction

“He is before all things, and in him all things hold together.” ~ Colossian 1:17

Images of safety pins were popping up all over social media this week, and as I began to research the meaning behind this movement, I became increasingly confused. Was the pin intended to be a safety signal to potential victims of hate crimes, or was it intended to signify one’s protest against the election results, or was it intended to send a not-so-subtle message to everyone who voted for Mr. Trump? Or perhaps a little bit of each? So I began to ask around. I have friends from all backgrounds and walks of life, and I respect and appreciate each and every one of them. The responses I received were as diverse as they are, which was beautiful, actually, because each of them have a remarkable story that has made them who they are. And, what became apparent was how deeply each one of them cares for our nation and the people who reside in it.

But what of the pin? Should I wear it? I certainly stand in solidarity with others. But, what would it signify to those who observed it on my lapel? Would they comprehend my intentions?

What was clear from the responses I received from friends was that the pin is a mixed symbol, due in no small part to the variety of headlines, running the gamut from “Americans Don Safety Pins in Solidarity with Minorities After Election,” (PBS News) to “Many are Wearing Safety Pins in Silent Protest of Election Results,” (Vanity Fair) to “Dear White People, Your Safety Pins Are Embarrassing” (Huffington Post).

Ugh. What to do? And then a friend of mine, a fellow Catholic who came from a family of Cuban immigrants, piped up on my Facebook feed with this gem: “How about we wear a cross, remember what it means - not, you are safe with me, but rather, I would die for you... and then let's act like we mean it.”

Her statement landed hard and took root within my heart. At Mass later that evening, I kneeled in the pew and observed people of all ages, race and nationality drink from the same chalice. How beautiful each man, woman, and child was as they received the Eucharist under the shadow the life-sized crucifix that hangs in the sanctuary. Suddenly, my friend’s words flowered into a resolution.

Looking up at the crucifix who did I see? My Lord. God made man. A first-century Jew who fulfilled the good promises of His Father to "draw all nations" unto Himself. By His touch, the blind regained their sight, the lame walked, the lepers were cleansed, the deaf began to hear, the dead were raised, and the poor were lifted out of despair. (Luke 7).

With a heavy heart, I considered the division and suffering in our nation. I wondered to myself, do I really believe Jesus entered history so that ALL people might be freed from darkness and oppression? And I thought of how He often healed the spirit through forgiveness before healing the physical ailment. Why? Because it is sin that divides and destroys.

I considered how the Lord could have forgiven the sin of Adam with a snap of His fingers, and yet instead, He leapt into history to walk among the divided. He endured betrayal, abuse, torture, and death so that we could comprehend His crazy kind of merciful love. As I gazed up at the crucifix and watched my brothers and sisters receive the Eucharist, I thought “You really are a sign of contradiction. People just don’t get you.” And the words of Simeon came to mind, “My eyes have seen your salvation, which you prepared in sight of all the peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and glory for your people Israel.” (Luke 2)

And I asked myself, “What of this light? Do I reflect His glory? And, how far am I willing to go for the Kingdom? How far am I willing to go to extend forgiveness and mercy? To sacrifice my own comforts so that another might live and flourish? To speak the truth when it needs speaking?”

I thought of the recent saints who died for the sake of others--Edith Stein, Titus Brandsma, Maximilian Kolbe, and Gianna Beretta Molla. And I remembered, "It is YOU, Lord, who makes all things new."

I left Mass last night resolved to think long and hard about the symbol I wear. Because I won’t be donning a safety pin. I’ll be donning a crucifix. Will people understand what it means? I’m not sure. But it will, no doubt, represent a “sign of contradiction.” God’s power is made manifest in weakness, and authentic love requires sacrifice. So, in wearing it, it better represent more than a shallow nod to Jesus culture. If I wear His sign of love, it better mean I’m willing to follow the path He trod. Jesus is not looking for fans, he's looking for followers.

“You have been told, O mortal,

what is good, and what the LORD requires of you:

Only to do justice and to love goodness,

and to walk humbly with your God.”

~Micah 6:8

You are my brothers and sisters. And although I suspect I’m at heart a Peter who would deny Jesus out of fear and weakness, I want to be able to say, “I would die for you,” friends. Pray for me, that I may have the grace to put my words into action if and when the time ever comes.