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You don't have to be Christian to make the Sign of the Cross
When Jews cross themselves
Dan Rottenberg
Is it OK for Christians to cross themselves if they're not priests, or even Catholics?
The Philadelphia composer Kile Smith, a committed Lutheran, raised this weighty question in BSR recently. (Click here.) As Kile tells it, he's been crossing himself instinctively for years, much to the dismay or amusement of his Protestant friends but without any apparent repercussions from up above.
(Although, come to think of it, that pillar of salt that materialized outside my office door the other day does bear a striking resemblance to a certain local musician of my acquaintance.)
Kile argues that the sign of the cross is a convenient shorthand way to remind his brain and his heart what Christianity is all about. I agree that the sign of the cross is convenient— much more convenient, say, than a six-pointed Jewish Star of David.
A Jewish star factory
Mel Brooks perceived as much half a century ago in his famous skit about the "2,000-Year-Old Man." (Click here.) As the Brooks character told it, he once made a good living manufacturing Jewish stars, which in those days required six employees to run toward each other at high speed with pointed sticks, causing the sticks to fuse together. But he went broke when a rival came up with a new religious symbol: a cross— simpler, more efficient and less labor-intensive.
Kile seems unaware that some people who aren't even Christians instinctively cross themselves when they're in a jam. I, for example— author of several books on Jewish subjects, descendant of illustrious rabbis, brother of a rabbi— reflexively cross myself for luck whenever I restart my computer or misplace my car keys.
I started doing it years ago, as a teenager playing playground basketball with mostly Catholic kids. They crossed themselves whenever they took a shot, so I started doing it too. Now I can't kick the habit.
Mendelssohn's solution
No such addiction befell my schoolmates at Fieldston, a private school operated by the New York Society For Ethical Culture, which rejects the notion of a supernatural god altogether. My junior year, our high school chorus sang Mendelssohn's Elijah, in which the ancient Hebrew protagonist mocks the prophets of Baal for their failure to provoke a positive response from their god. (Click here.)
That same year, when our basketball team played a Jesuit school called Loyola, many of our predominantly Jewish fans were fascinated by the novel (for them) sight of Loyola players crossing themselves before attempting a free throw. Since Fieldston's cheering section and its chorus were largely interchangeable, whenever a Loyola player missed a free throw after crossing himself, the Fieldston fans sang out in unison, "Call Him louder!"
Prayer on a plane
Kile also seems unaware of the joke about the priest and rabbi traveling together to an ecumenical convention. As their plane takes off, both men instinctively cross themselves.
"For the father, the son and the holy ghost," intones the priest.
"Wallet, cell phone, spectacles, testicles," says the rabbi.
The act of crossing oneself, you see, is not merely convenient but also utilitarian.
Which creed is best?
I've long felt that one religion is as moral as any other. Each seems to build on its predecessors. Judaism introduced monotheism and the rule of law; Confucianism stressed reciprocity; Christianity promoted love; Islam agglomerated elements of all three. Some religions carve out special niches: Catholicism comforts the poor by promising rewards in the next life; Episcopalianism comforts the rich by appreciating that they too deserve compassion.
But the moral codes are remarkably similar. I've yet to find a religion that advises you to kill, steal, commit adultery or mistreat your parents.
The difference in terms of their appeal lies in how they promote themselves. To my mind, the simple efficiency of the sign of the cross is one small piece of the explanation of Christianity's success in reaching a mass audience over the past 2,000 years: inspired marketing.♦
To read responses, click here.
The Philadelphia composer Kile Smith, a committed Lutheran, raised this weighty question in BSR recently. (Click here.) As Kile tells it, he's been crossing himself instinctively for years, much to the dismay or amusement of his Protestant friends but without any apparent repercussions from up above.
(Although, come to think of it, that pillar of salt that materialized outside my office door the other day does bear a striking resemblance to a certain local musician of my acquaintance.)
Kile argues that the sign of the cross is a convenient shorthand way to remind his brain and his heart what Christianity is all about. I agree that the sign of the cross is convenient— much more convenient, say, than a six-pointed Jewish Star of David.
A Jewish star factory
Mel Brooks perceived as much half a century ago in his famous skit about the "2,000-Year-Old Man." (Click here.) As the Brooks character told it, he once made a good living manufacturing Jewish stars, which in those days required six employees to run toward each other at high speed with pointed sticks, causing the sticks to fuse together. But he went broke when a rival came up with a new religious symbol: a cross— simpler, more efficient and less labor-intensive.
Kile seems unaware that some people who aren't even Christians instinctively cross themselves when they're in a jam. I, for example— author of several books on Jewish subjects, descendant of illustrious rabbis, brother of a rabbi— reflexively cross myself for luck whenever I restart my computer or misplace my car keys.
I started doing it years ago, as a teenager playing playground basketball with mostly Catholic kids. They crossed themselves whenever they took a shot, so I started doing it too. Now I can't kick the habit.
Mendelssohn's solution
No such addiction befell my schoolmates at Fieldston, a private school operated by the New York Society For Ethical Culture, which rejects the notion of a supernatural god altogether. My junior year, our high school chorus sang Mendelssohn's Elijah, in which the ancient Hebrew protagonist mocks the prophets of Baal for their failure to provoke a positive response from their god. (Click here.)
That same year, when our basketball team played a Jesuit school called Loyola, many of our predominantly Jewish fans were fascinated by the novel (for them) sight of Loyola players crossing themselves before attempting a free throw. Since Fieldston's cheering section and its chorus were largely interchangeable, whenever a Loyola player missed a free throw after crossing himself, the Fieldston fans sang out in unison, "Call Him louder!"
Prayer on a plane
Kile also seems unaware of the joke about the priest and rabbi traveling together to an ecumenical convention. As their plane takes off, both men instinctively cross themselves.
"For the father, the son and the holy ghost," intones the priest.
"Wallet, cell phone, spectacles, testicles," says the rabbi.
The act of crossing oneself, you see, is not merely convenient but also utilitarian.
Which creed is best?
I've long felt that one religion is as moral as any other. Each seems to build on its predecessors. Judaism introduced monotheism and the rule of law; Confucianism stressed reciprocity; Christianity promoted love; Islam agglomerated elements of all three. Some religions carve out special niches: Catholicism comforts the poor by promising rewards in the next life; Episcopalianism comforts the rich by appreciating that they too deserve compassion.
But the moral codes are remarkably similar. I've yet to find a religion that advises you to kill, steal, commit adultery or mistreat your parents.
The difference in terms of their appeal lies in how they promote themselves. To my mind, the simple efficiency of the sign of the cross is one small piece of the explanation of Christianity's success in reaching a mass audience over the past 2,000 years: inspired marketing.♦
To read responses, click here.
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