Over the past years there has been a disturbing amount in the media about religious symbols, disturbing for its negativity. It's good to see religion in the news, but...

Just a few weeks ago we read about the young Ottawa girl who was not allowed to play in a soccer tournament because, as a devout Muslim, she wore a headscarf. I was happy to see that this unfortunate incident was not going to put her off either the game she loves, or wearing her headscarf with all that it symbolizes for her.

Sikh turbans and ceremonial daggers have been much discussed, and their use by Mounties and by students. And fairly recently an airport worker, a Christian woman, was told to remove her cross, or lose her job! That really hits close to home, doesn't it?

Symbols of our faith are very dear to us, reminding us, and telling the world, who we are and what we believe.

Christians, of, course, have other symbols. I have a special fondness for the fish, that secret sign for early persecuted Christians. But there is no question that the cross is the greatest of all our symbols, a reminder of how Christ died and rose againfor us!

And that the wearing of the cross should be used as a reason for dismissal, well, I find that pretty scary!

A witty person, observing the custom of churches, once remarked that Jesus didn't die on a gold cross between two lovely candlesticks! Of course, we know that it was a rough and ugly cross on which he died, but we also know that his terrible cross, in fact, became his glorious throne. And so, down through the ages, Christians have made, adorned their churches, and worn, crosses of beauty, reminders of just that.

The cross which I wear close to my heart is an unusual one, a cross and anchor all in one. It is the cross of St. Clement. Clement was a bishop of Rome at the end of the 1st century AD. He got himself in trouble with the authorities because he refused to stop preaching and converting people, even wealthy patricians.

In prison, he preached to his jailors with surprising success. Finally, in desperation, the authorities decided the he must die. He was t h r o w n into the sea with an anchor tied about him.

And so we have as his symbol, the cross a n d anchor.

Now why do I wear it? St. Clement has been a large part of my life. I always joke that I was born with "St. C." stamped somewhere on me! I was born in the rectory of St. Clement's Church in the east end of Toronto. That was my home and my church for twenty-two years.

Then I raised my children in another St. Clement's Church in the north end of Toronto. B o t h churches left their m a r k , contributing to my spiritual growth. My children had this special cross made for my 50th birthday. I am never without it!

As I write this, I am "doing time" in a rehab hospital following surgery. It was tough, and not a little discouraging in the first few days.

On my first Sunday here I sat in the chapel, utterly exhausted by a session of physiotherapy. I felt at a pretty low ebb. For some reason my hand went up to my cross, my lovely cross and anchor.

My sprits rose. This dear symbol reminded me that, in truth, the cross IS my anchor in life, an anchor that won't drown me, but will sustain me, especially when the going gets rough.

Our symbols make a statement to the world. They can act as reminders to us as well!