Good Friday

A Sonic Meditation for Good Friday

The Bridegroom

That this day should be called “good” isn’t obvious or clear.  If this day is good it is not in the events commemorated, but in what God is doing, and the pulling aside the veil of te systems of power and domination.  But also,  it is that the events commemorated on this day don’t stand alone.  The goodness of this day is that liturgically we aren’t simply caught in death and oppression.  In fact later today I will proclaim with many others in song and in reverencing a representation of the cross, that what the powerful and what the system of domination intended as death dealing is turned into, by God’s act and grace, something life giving.  Liturgically we live between horror and hope on this day.  What is good isn’t the violence dealt out, but God’s identification with humanity in defiance of that violence, exposing that empire and law are bound up in death.

The playlist opens with what the Maundy Thursday playlist ended. This reflects that the Three Days or Triduum is a continuous three day liturgy of Christ’s passion. The nervous energy becomes more subdued and focused.  A melancholy rejection of oppression, violence and the madness of the world. Of course at the center of this day is an  execution, and fittingly Nick Caves Mercy Seat sits at the center of the playlist.  Here, I chose a song that has the most direct and literal associations to the theme of this day.  The title of the song is a name for the cover of the Ark of the Covenant which sat in the Holy of Holies in the ancient Israelite temple. Since the Holy of Holies was only entered on the day of Atonement and only by the High Priest, the mercy seat is associated with the theology and ideas of atonement.  Cave has the voice of the person to be executed make not only specific allusions to Jesus’ crucifixion but even identifies his execution with that of Jesus.  In listening to it today I heard also, a reference to those “thieves” or “bandits” who were crucified with Jesus and the “thief” to whom Jesus’ says “This day you will be with me in paradise.”  The question of guilt or innocence has been abandoned by the one being executed and faces his death not unlike the “thief” who chides his compatriot saying that they, unlike Jesus, aren’t innocent.  Scholars are largely in agreement that those two theirs or bandits were most likely Zealots or members of Jewish resistance who used violence and brigandage in their opposition and defiance of the Roman occupation.

From the point of execution and the defiance and acceptance of fate, we enter death.  Death is the reality we face on this day not in despondency (though for Jesus disciples, this moment was a deep confusion and darkness) but in anticipation. even so, Jesus actually dies. Here is the death of God, this we can’t avoid.  We human beings, human systems of power and domination, killed God.  Thus, Today is also a day of repentance, of reflecting on the small and large ways take the side of Death, Empire, distorted religious power, and violence.  We repent because we know the love of Maundy Thursday and we know the end of the story. Yet, we also sit with the pain, the violence and our complicity with oppression and the degradation of others, whom God created and loves.  That is our sinfulness and our mad mad world. We face too that we will all face death.  What that death will be for us and what we will find in it, in part has to do with what we do with the tensions of Good Friday. Are we willing to sit within this space, or if we do we rush to triumph without pain.

There’s a heaviness as I finish listening. We are in a wilderness, from here (even though I know to expect the  dawn) the darkness overwhelms. The grief and pain of this mad world of ours washes over me and engulfs me.

What is difficulty of this day?

What did you hear in this playlist?  What are the resonances?

Are you lead to turn aside from certain things, to allow yourself to be transformed by the reality of this day and liturgical observance?

This is the second meditation in triptych.  The first is found here, a Sonic Meditation on Maundy Thursday. The third will be here tomorrow, a Sonic Meditation on Holy Saturday.

Mass on the Altar of the World

Good Friday: Just another day in Post-Christendom

Yesterday, I had an appointment with someone, in the conversation my being pastor came up (it wasn’t about anything church or religiously affiliated), but that we met on Maundy Thursday, nor that today was Good Friday came up in the conversation.  The person whom I met seemed to have no sense that I as a Western Christian was in the midst of our high holy days, and that Sunday was Easter.

As I traveled to the Oratory’s Maundy Thursday service with a member of the Oratory, the business of the City was unchanged, people coming home from work as any other day.  I went out briefly today and the feeling is the same.  This week I’m running on a different time than many of those who are about me.  In this post Christian and post-Christendom world we have these strange remnants like Christmas, and people talk about the war on Christmas, and of course the Media has been putting out the requisite biblical or Jesus stories (though even that seems less prevalent this year, than in past years.)

This isn’t a complaint.  But it does feel like I’m going about this celebration in secret. Part of this is that the week has been less intense for me since, the Oratory will only have held a Maundy Thursday service.  We are going together to other congregations for Good Friday and for the Easter Vigil and Easter Sunday services.  I have more time to see that many others, some of whom may be Christian aren’t as taken up in to this the central holiday of Holy Week and the Three Days.  I’m also more attuned I guess that for many Easter Sunday will come and that will be that.  The center of our faith will be a blip on events that fill up their lives.  That this is so for the Christmas and Easter crowd is fine, what I find more problematic is when due to a variety of factors otherwise committed Christians won’t take the time to sit with the passion, death and Insurrection of Christ.

Even so, I understand.  This week has, as I said above, has been less focused then in previous years where we had a dramatic liturgy of Palm?Passion Sunday with Palms and processions and dramatic reading of the passion Gospel, and having the full three days celebrated with one or two other congregations.  This year I will be celebrating the three days but this week hasn’t been so consuming.

This isn’t a complaint. There is something of a truth in that Holy Week seems to be something barely noticed and passing by without remark.

What God did in Jesus of Nazareth isn’t obvious.  What was happening on that Friday in ancient Roman occupied Palestine, was just another execution of yet another failed resistance to Roman rule.  Yet another “messiah” crucified.  Move along and make a few snarky comments, nothing more, life goes on.

Tonight, I along with many other Christians will adore this once common implement of execution.  Granted it has other symbolic resonances, yet at base we adore tonight what should have been failure and the end of the story. We do something strange, because what we adore is hidden from view. The significance of these three days is almost to common, or rather like a treasure hiden in a field, it isn’t obvious or remarkable on the surface.

This is just another day, nothing special, life will go on.  Yet, we assert something remarkable happened and happens.  Something slowly is transforming the ordinary into something more, revealing the inner beauty and reality of the ordinary as what is quite extra-ordinary. And this began in a torture and death of one particular human being, a seemingly unremarkable and ordinary human being on the edge of a great empire over 2000 years ago.

 

Holy Week, Grief and the Unexpected

As has become our custom at Reconciler, I didn’t preach.  We let the liturgy, the scriptures, sung and read, the hymns preach.  We walk a lot in our Palm Sunday service: We the Palm procession, we also process around to different stations for the reading of the Passion Gospel, we process up to gather around the altar, and we then process to the baptismal font for dismissal.  It’s a beautiful service.

The triumphal entry and palm procession didn’t move me this year, or rather it rang hollow.  The griefs of the passion story was more palpable for me this year.  This time around the knowledge that the crowds shouting “Hosanna” would soon melt away muted  the celebration at the beginning of the service.  Grief, loss and the unexpectedness of the liturgy and the Gospel were prominent in my consciousness as I presided in the liturgy.

This is not surprising given that  2013 was a year of loss and grief.  Very little went as I had thought and my father  passed at the end of 2013.  Little of what I’m facing now did I expect to be facing when I last celebrated Palm Sunday and entered Holy Week last year.  A year ago we we’re wondering whether or not my dad’s recovery from a major stroke would be a slow or quick recovery.  Nothing indicated that in 7 months he would die.  I also didn’t expect that the community would be down to four people in a temporary space big enough only for the four members curtailing much of the activity of the community (I’ve written about our “winter” here and here).  The events that are remembered and rehearsed in Holy Week, weren’t anticipated by the disciples and full of distress, loss, grief, and confusion.

Even the hopeful reality of Easter and Resurrection of Jesus Christ, wasn’t what the Apostles and disciples of Jesus expected.  The whole of what we celebrate and enter into in the liturgies of this week are tinged with loss, grief.  Even the Resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth means a certain loss: Loss of what the Apostles thought was about to come in the life and ministry of Jesus.

We may fail to see the complexity of the story and the liturgies.  We know the story, the path of the liturgy is well worn.  But life happens, and we find ourselves in unexpected places with griefs and losses that we didn’t have the last time we walked this way of Holy Week, of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Holy Saturday.  If we pay attention we can find these liturgies, these scriptures not only speaking to our situation, but showing us something we hadn’t seen or experienced before.

We  come again and again over our lifetime to these Holy Days, both to interpret our lives, but also because there is always more to learn and experience in these liturgies and these Scripture texts.

Whatever the intervening year has brought you, I encourage to attend to it and how the liturgies and Scriptures are experienced differently because  you are in a different place.  Come to these familiar rites and texts with anticipation.  There is more than you expect in them, there is a deep reality and resource in them.  Encounter them in the difference that life has brought you since you were last here.

Icons of the Three Days: Approach the Mystery in Silence

These are the icons in which and around which we live as we celebrate the liturgy of the Three Days:

Maundy Thursday as we wash feet and remember the supper we return to again and again in Eucharist.

Then we are here at the Cross and Jesus Christ in the Grave:

Behold the life-giving Cross.

And then Jesus Christ in Hades/Sheol/Hell the land of the dead, the shades, bringing up Adam and Eve:

I have meant to write this icon for years. I never have.  I think I shrink from its truth.  If I were to  paint I would need to fully enter into it and face it, in all its pain and all its glory.  God entered the depths of our humanity and the world and pulled us up.  This is too much.

And so I approach Silence:


Holy Saturday Reflection – and Silence

Rob Bell has a new book out, and Tripp Hudgins and Adam Ericksen are having a blogalogue about it.  Thought I’d link to my Holy Saturday reflection of two years ago, in which I reference Rob Bell’s Love Wins.

Holy Saturday Reflection: Love Wins and Christ’s Descent into Hell(Hades)

I haven’t blogged about Holy Week and the Three Days and Easter this time around.  Mostly because this year I felt silence was the place from which to encounter this mystery again.  I’m not preaching at all this festival cycle, so no sermons to post either.

How does one mark silence as intentional in the cacophony of the internet?

I suppose this is one way to speak around the silence to say I’m being silent for a reason, not just because I haven’t posted anything or haven’t tweeted anything.

Silence…

….And words past, from Rob and me.

“Enjoy the silence…”

 

Other past posts on Holy Week and the Three Days:

A Maundy Thursday Reflection

A Good Friday Reflection on a sermon