Anderson’s dream was to see the northern and southern branches of the Presbyterian family, which had been torn asunder in the Civil War, reunited in his life time. So he gave two of the crosses to the moderators of the northern and southern stream denominations, beseeching them to pass the crosses on — until the day when they could be soldered together as a visible sign of the unity of the broken body of Christ. A few years later a third cross was purchased and given to the third Presbyterian remnant — the Presbyterian Church in North America. In 1958, the first two crosses were joined together when the two northern denominations merged. But it wasn’t until 1983 — long after Anderson’s death — that the third cross was connected to the first two. After a long and difficult struggle, the north and the south finally overcame their differences to become one again in Christ.
Actually it is the story behind the story of the crosses that really fascinates me, because it adds justice to the theme of unity. In 1942 a small group of Japanese-Americans were trying to find a place to worship in Chicago. They approached Fourth church to see if they could use one of its three chapels. Because of the hysteria surrounding Pearl Harbor and the fearful prejudice that led to the establishment of internment camps for Japanese-American citizens, the session of Fourth church twice tabled the motion. Finally, in the third month, the superintendent of the Sunday school threatened to resign if the session did not grant the use of space. After all, he said, every week we teach our children “to love our neighbors.” After a prayer by Anderson, the session voted unanimously to welcome the Japanese-Americans into their chapel.
Five years later, when this growing congregation was ready to move to their own space, they gave Fourth church a generous gift of money to be used for “a good cause.” This is the money which Anderson used to buy the crosses which now bestow grace and authority upon each moderator.
With this goodly heritage, I take seriously the mandate which each moderator of the General Assembly carries — which is to promote the unity and the justice embedded in the Good News of Jesus Christ. As Paul so vividly describes in Ephesians, Christ is our peace who has already broken down the dividing walls of hostility. Our task, as the living Body of Christ, is to incarnate in our time what Christ has already accomplished through the suffering love of the cross.
As we move forward through this year, there is much we can do to break down the dividing walls of hostility in our denomination. The spirit of reconciliation, which carried the day in Denver, was not so much an avoidance of conflict as it was a commitment to take seriously this time of respite in our debates. This is the time to break down our hostilities, our suspicions, our prejudices — brick by brick. I believe that it is the Providence of God that has given us some breathing space to find common ground — to affirm what is essential and to agree to disagree about what is not essential. This is the time to figure out how to maintain both the unity and the justice of our church — how to find new ways to “love our neighbor.”
The debate on the Des Moines overture (removing G6.0106b from the Book of Order) took place on Friday afternoon in Denver. As this magazine has reported in detail, the decision of the Assembly was to defer action, recognizing that the Theological Task Force on Peace, Unity and Purity is already dealing with the issue. The debate was careful, and the vote was civil. But there was no rejoicing in the hall when the deliberations were over. Following that session of the Assembly, I had two women approach me — both of them deeply distressed.
One woman was an elder commissioner from Texas, distraught that the Assembly had not clearly affirmed her understanding of the biblical standard of chastity and the clear judgment that homosexuality is a sin. With tears in her eyes, she told me that she was afraid to go home to her session, for fear that they would decide to leave the denomination.
The second woman was a candidate for ministry, a lesbian, who is waiting for the church to welcome her gifts as a pastor. With tears in her eyes, she told me that she felt like she had just been kicked in the stomach — by the very same church that had baptized her and confirmed her. One more time justice had been delayed. And so, for her, justice had been denied.
Both these women are my sisters — our sisters — in Christ. Both these women are part of the fragile unity that we call the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.). And as your moderator, I want both these women to be part of the church that I serve. The question before all of us is how to get there. How are we going to hold together both the unity and the justice of Jesus Christ?
As I put on the moderator’s cross every day, I pray for the future of our beloved church. And I pray that we can carefully preserve the unique feature of this cherished symbol of our denomination. The three crosses that form the one moderator’s cross are riveted together — not welded together. And so their unity is very fragile. It is delicate. It is easily broken. Only honor and gentleness and careful keeping will prevent this cross from being broken. Can we do the same with the fragile and delicate unity of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.)?
Yours in Christ,
Susan Andrews
Moderator of the 215th General Assembly
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