While I’ve never been a fan of concrete, I love the earth-cast concrete cross that now hangs, suspended by ship-building cables, in Goodson Chapel at Duke Divinity School.
I love it not because it is particularly elegant or ornate, but because of how it was constructed and because of what it reminds me about institutional work. That is what I explained to a group of denominational leaders recently, as I showed them the cross. They were on campus for the four-day program Denominational Leadership: Serving God and the Church as an Executive Leader.
I explained to them that the cross, designed by sculptor Thomas Sayre, was formed by digging a cross-shaped mold out of the earth. A substructure of iron rebar was installed, and concrete was poured into the cast, covered with earth, and left to cure in the ground for 30 days. Like the resurrection it represents, it was literally dug up after 30 days to begin its new life in Goodson Chapel.
Duke Divinity School Chaplain Sally Bates describes the concrete as “an organic substance used as an everyday building material,” making it “for the people and of the people.”
Concrete -- cement, sand, gravel and water -- reminds me of hard work and rough-worn hands, of sweat and long hours, of sore backs and steady workers, of work unglamorous but physical and holy and diligently completed. It reminds me of so many denominational leaders I have met.
The surface of the cross includes the rough imprint of leaves, stones, tools and human hands, but the arms of the cross include a channel of negative space, where the natural light shines through and is reflected on the inner smooth, polished surfaces.
This dual surface embodies what Joan Chittister, OSB writes about life in community: “To live community life well is to have all the edges rubbed off, all the rough parts made smooth. There is no need then for disciplines to practice. Life itself is the discipline.”
If the rough parts of the cross represent our individual agendas, then the smooth inner surface reflects our life and work in Christian institutions, what Chittister calls “the great human asceticism.”
Whenever I see this cross, I feel hopeful about denominational leadership and work.
Hopeful because I am reminded of the way that work, like this very cross and the resurrection itself, is grounded in the dust out of which we are created, to which we return, and from which we are resurrected to new life in Christ. Amidst the sweat, toil and cement of that daily work, Christian leadership is founded on this resurrection life.
What hope, then, to see that 600 pounds of concrete lifted from the pavements of our institutional byways and literally presiding high above a worshipping community! This hope in turn provides the foundation for us as we look for ways to sustain our work.
