Cross purposes: do we really want our Christian symbols to "lord" it over everyone else?

"THIS STATUE PROVES THAT JESUS CHRIST IS LORD over America; he is Lord over Tennessee; he is Lord over Memphis." That's how Apostle Alton R. Williams of World Overcomers Outreach Ministries in Memphis described the purpose of his 72-foot-tall, $260,000 "Statue of Liberation through Christ," an adaptation of the Statue of Liberty--with a few twists. Instead of a torch, Liberation holds a cross, and on her crown is inscribed "Jehovah." Instead of a tablet welcoming the poor, Christian Liberty holds the Ten Commandments. A single tear slides from her eye, which, according to The New York Times, Williams explains as "God's response to ... the nation's ills, including legalized abortion, a lack of prayer in schools, and the country's 'promotion of expressions of New Age, Wicca, secularism, and humanism.'"

Not surprisingly, reactions to the "Lord's Lady Liberty" were mixed; most focused on the political question of the relationship between church and state. But for Catholics, with our sensitivity to symbols and their meaning, I think there is a purely religious dimension to Liberation's giant cross: Should we Catholics be encouraging such use of the cross? Is its meaning for us indeed that "Christ is Lord over" everything and everybody?

One response may simply be to dismiss this as an evangelical phenomenon. My home state of Tennessee is, after all, in the heart of the Bible Belt, and almost every adult bookstore has an impressive cross in front of it, erected by some local congregation who would prefer such business was done elsewhere, if at all.

But we Catholics have indeed built churches and bell towers in ways that still dominate the villages of Europe and even the urban centers of the United States. The new Catholic cathedral in Los Angeles, for example, sits right next to one of the areas busiest freeways, ostensibly to be seen by commuters. Traditionally Catholic countries like Spain and Italy even now are debating whether crucifixes--at one time required by law--should be removed from public buildings, with defenders insisting that the symbol indicates the Catholic identity of the country. The issue has become even more polarizing as growing numbers of Muslims make Europe their home. But such use of the cross actually goes much further back in history, to the Emperor Constantine, who was the first to place the cross on the shields of his legions.

That's quite a journey for what was once a brutal instrument of the Roman Empire, a symbol literary critic Jack Miles calls so obscene that its only modern equivalents are photographs of lynching victims, their necks contorted by the noose and their limbs askew from the violence done to them. And like the vigilante cruelty of the Jim Crow South, crucifixion was a method of terror and intimidation, a sign that said, "You're next" to passers-by. Indeed the ancient Romans completely deforested the countryside around Jerusalem crucifying rebellious Jews.

Even if the cross later became a symbol of how Jesus is "Lord over" anyone, early Christians found it so problematic that they did not make images of it for centuries. It wasn't until Christianity won political power that the cross became a sign of "lordship," wielded first by Constantine but later by Crusaders against Muslims and by European rulers against Jews. And in light of the Shoah (as Jews refer to the genocide of World War II) and the religious rhetoric of the war on terror, its message is not likely to be unmuddied soon.

A TORTURE DEVICE, ARTICLE OF FAITH, A MILITARY standard, a sign that Jesus is Lord over America--a lot for two pieces of wood to bear. And I can't help but wonder how a Muslim child in Memphis feels when she walks in the shadow of the Lord's Lady Liberty, or how an elderly Jewish man feels, or a newly arrived Hindu immigrant. And I wonder how I want them to interpret this symbol that lies at the heart of my Catholic faith.

What I am sure of is that I don't want what is a symbol of hope for me to be for others a sign that inspires fear, one that reminds them that they don't really belong, that someone-whether Jesus or the local Christian politician--is "lord" over them. And I wish we Christians, especially we Catholics, would be more thoughtful about the way we use the cross, mindful of how it affects those around us, aware always of how we have used it in history. To all of us, I would like to offer only this advice: Handle with care.

By BRYAN CONES, associate editor of U.S. CATHOLIC.