Friday, April 18, 2014

Good Friday?

The different gospels offer us different views of Jesus on the cross.  In one, Jesus is gracious and generous, calling on God's forgiveness and asking a friend to look after his mother.  In another, Jesus is desperately alone: "My God, my God," he cries, "why have you abandoned me!"  In truth, I know both of these teachers.  The generous one reminds me that I can meet my suffering with tenderness, that I can weep into kindness and compassion.  And the desperate Jesus reminds me that authenticity is everything in life: there will be seasons of piercing grief, and seasons of healing.  But I can and must attend to the experience at hand; there are no short cuts on the soul's journey home.

Tomorrow night, we're gathering, as we do each year on Good Friday, for worship and lamentation.  We tell the story of Jesus' last hours: how his friends tried to keep faith, but couldn't; how bureaucracies betrayed him; how he died, sadly, alone.

Lamentation is a profoundly important, and an often ignored biblical tradition.  It's more than weeping, of course.  It suggests a lover's quarrel with God.  "My God, my God, why have you abandoned me!"  At Peace United Church, we do this odd little thing at the foot of the cross, where we toss heavy nails into a loud metal bucket.  With each one, we cry out for some piece of the world's suffering, some piece of our own pain.  Every year, it's one of the most powerful and painful moments we share.  "Why?  Why?  Why?"

Tomorrow night, we've also invited a gifted group of high school dancers to share a poignant piece--based on the horrible massacre at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut, 18 months ago.  The dance was choreographed by one of the dancers, a senior at Harbor High.  I know it'll shatter our hearts in a way, and move us to a deeper experience of Good Friday, Jesus' pain, and the crucifixion itself.  It won't be an easy hour of prayer, but I promise it'll be a transformational one.  We can meet the world's suffering (and our own) with tenderness, and become instruments of God's resilient peace.

Thinking ahead to tomorrow's service, here's a poem we'll read after the dance:

"Newtown" By Glenn Currier
 
Their souls rain into our hearts
and soften the soil of our winter
with gratitude for their little lives
hoping their gentleness will survive
into our spring, lest we splinter.
We know not
what hazards we'll span
or what suffering withstand
in the days and months ahead,
but we carry with us the thread
of their souls
to fashion a new garment
of hope and love
we will wear fondly
in their stead.
The memory of those who sewed goodness
in the thin fabric of their lives
will sustain us in moments of despair,
remind us and make us aware
of the power and protection
we can fashion
with a kernel of compassion.
Into the foggy future we cross.
Mindful of the dark roads and loss,
the errors and sins of our past,
we choose now to leave the vast
and scarred remains
of that old town
to build together
safe places of care
where we honor and spare each other
a smile or a word when we're down
and a welcoming hand
as we build a grand
and brilliant
Newtown.

Author's note: Dedicated to the children and the educators and staff of Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut.

"Newtown," Copyright © 2012 by Glenn Currier Posted December 25, 2012