Good Friday, 2013
Today is a hard day. The symbols we have all around us at church, and what we’re doing are designed to remind us about the solemnity of the day, and deep grief and sorrow. More than remind us, we are put right in the middle of ambiguity, grief and sorrow.
Today’s service is the second in the three-part Triduum, the service that begins on Maundy Thursday, continues today and doesn’t conclude until the Easter Vigil. Normally, our services begin with a beginning – a processional. Then, we go through the liturgy of the word, and the liturgy of the sacrament, where at the Eucharist, Christ is actively made present. We end with a recessional, and my favorite, a dismissal, sending God’s people out to do God’s work in the world.
But not today. Today, we enter in the middle of an extended three day service. Yesterday it began, with the processional. Tomorrow it will end with a joyous dismissal. But today, we don’t really have a beginning or an ending. We enter the service as if it’s already started (which it has) and we’ll leave without a proper ending, which there isn’t. For us liturgical worshippers, this is unsettling. I think it’s designed to be.
It’s more than just the structure of the service that is unsettling. We don’t get to celebrate the Eucharist with the active part of making God’s presence real in the bread and wine. We do get communion, but it’s with bread that’s already been consecrated, it’s from the reserve sacrament. Christ is not invoked and made present in the same way as a full Eucharistic celebration.
We cover the crosses in black and wear black.
This is one of the few times in the Church year we are left to sit in the darkness, with all the familiar comforts stripped away.
At St Thomas’ and throughout the world, Christians walk the way of the stations of the cross, marking Christ’s tortuous death, step by step. We witness the terror of his companions as they watch him go through this. We watch as Mary’s side is pierced, and feel that pain too, as she watches her son go through unspeakable horrors. We suffer through remembering and praying about Christ’s passion.
And here we sit in the midst of that.
But Good Friday is about more than just feeling the pain of the Passion once again. This year, there are horrible things occurring throughout the world. As of February, armed lethal conflict was underway in Afghanistan, Burma Columbia Congo India Iraq, Israel Mali Nigeria Pakistan, Palestine Somalia, Sudan Syria, Thailand Turkey Yemen. People die. Families are destroyed.
Last year, over 400 soldiers were killed in the conflict in Afghanistan and Iraq, with over 4000 Iraqi deaths during same period.
In 2010, 20 million Americans were living in extreme poverty, with an income of $10,000 or less – for a family of four.
Oregon has the highest child hunger rate in the nation.
There are very real things out there currently happening that should grieve us. These are the horrors of our current world. And regardless of your politics or morals, real people – real children of God – are suffering. We suffer when we remember all that’s wrong in the world.
And today we sit in darkness and grieve.
And the darkness and grief isn’t just sympathizing with Christ, or mourning atrocities throughout our world, although that’s a lot. Today we sit with all the grief and sadness deep in our souls. There is always grief and sadness deep within each of us. Loved ones die. Family members get sick and suffer. Families are broken apart. Bad things happen. And sometimes we get caught up in the turmoil of it all, and we end up sad or anxious. We lead busy crazy lives, and sometimes it’s too much. Sad, anxious, fearful thoughts can flood us. We suffer because of what’s going on in our own heads, unbeknownst to anyone but us.
Whether it’s thinking about Christ’s passion, the horrors in the world, or the trouble in our lives or our soul, this is real pain. This is real suffering.
And here we sit in the midst of that darkness and grieve.
And yet, this is Good Friday. I know the rest of the story. I know the story gets good. I know this is the necessary hard part before the good part. But Good? It feels sometimes like we’re trying to make this horror-filled day all about sunshine and roses. Look on the bright side. And normally, I’m all about looking at the bright side. But today, we are supposed to grieve. This grief at Christ’s death, our world or our lives is real and should be honored.
So where is the good in that?
In 1373, a young woman lay sick with the plague. She had a series of visions of Jesus, one which focused largely on the events we honor today in his life. Julian of Norwich thought about the pain and suffering of Christ, someone whom she’d given her life to. She thought about the system and people and conditions that resulted in his murder. She thought about the pain and suffering of those around him, the people he loved, his family. Unbelievable sorrow. And on that day, all those griefs and sorrows came together.
The suffering in the world with government sanctioned torture and killing of Jesus and others. The suffering in the hearts and souls of the people involved, and the suffering of Jesus. All of these things are still with us today.
And all those years ago, Julian of Norwich she saw them all coming together. Her resulting insight about that is beautiful. She called it Oneing, which I suppose is the verb of becoming one. She thought of that Oneing as our complete unity with God, and God’s complete unity with us.
You see, as Christians, we believe in a God who was made man. Through the man Jesus and in particularly through all of suffering from this day, God shared in the world’s collective grief and sorrow. Through that moment of shared grief and sorrow, Christ cemented his humanity with ours.With that day, Jesus absolutely experienced all the human horrors we put each other through and the horrors we are put through. And because Jesus experienced this moment and knew the pain, God shared the moment and knew the pain. This was the moment of Christ’s Oneing with us. Christ suffered with the people at that moment. They shared their grief. And because of that, God shares with you your grief, the world’s grief today.
So part of the Good of today is that through the events of Christ’s passion, God knows, God has experienced as a human, that grief and darkness in which we sit today.
Without any shared humanity, God could feel bad for us, but wouldn’t know. But God does know.
It’s not that today is really that great of a day. But through the brilliance of a God-made-man, and what that man went through today, God is with us in our grief. Today and whenever it hits. That is good.
And it is true. We are in the middle of a three day liturgy. We do know the service will end. And we’ll have glorious music and a joy-filled dismissal.
I am reminded of a quote from that theologian or at least the great actress, Dame Judy Dench from the movie The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, of a quintessential quote for Good Friday, worthy of framing. It highlights the Good part of today. It’s not that today is any less bad or hard. It doesn’t attempt to lighten the gravity of what’s happening with platitudes. It does highlight however, the Good part of today, and what we as Christians believe about sin, evil and death.
“Everything will be all right in the end. If it's not all right, then it's not the end.”
Amen.
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