I grew up in a faith tradition that doesn’t use the cross. We have the risen Lord, not the dead one, they said. It made sense to me at the time. Who wants to think about Jesus’ death—the agony, the betrayal, the humiliation of it all? Better just to focus on some future day, when he comes back again in might and glory and this time manages to rid the world of people not like us. Like I said. Total sense. Until I realized that you can’t be reborn until you’ve died first.