It’s Good Friday, about 8 in the morning, and I’m not getting ready to go to church.
This is the first Good Friday since I have been a minister that I have not been utterly focused on making sure the Good Friday worship service is the best, most meaningful it can be. Some years, I have planned a service that involved a lot of drama, with congregation members taking on the roles of soldiers or disciples or Caiaphas or any of the other people that are part of the passion story. In those years, prior to the service, I am very nervous, hoping that everyone remembers their parts. Those dramatic presentations can be really powerful. One year, the whole cast gathered on the sidewalk outside the church doors when it was finished, with tears streaming down their faces. Such is the impact of really immersing yourself in the injustice and agony of the crucifixion story.
This year, my Good Friday worship service is completed. I taped my part of the service on Tuesday morning, sent it off to be processed, received the finished project yesterday, and sent it back out into the world to be seen on youtube today. I am immensely grateful to my ministry colleagues for making this possible, and for tech help from certain members of my church. And for the magic of the internet, most of which is just a mystery to me. So, the worship service is out there, just not in the way it usually is.
Most years, once my responsibilities as worship leader for the Good Friday is completed, I spend the rest of the day in self-isolation. I may go for a walk in the woods if the weather is OK, or I may stay home. I spend time in contemplation of Christ and how his ancient story connects to our ‘today’ story.
This year, I’m not the only one self-isolating. The whole world is joining me in isolating.
One of the things that attracts me to the story of the suffering and death of Jesus is how real it all is. When I read through the gospel accounts, I think, “Yes, I can see how Peter denied even knowing Jesus – he was terrified he was going to be crucified too. Yes, I see how Pilate gets caught up in trying to figure out the politically expedient thing to do, in a dispute that held no interest for him. Yes, I can see how the crowds would love Jesus one day, and want him dead the next – public opinion is often fickle. Yes, the extreme brutality inflicted on Jesus is basically the same as the extreme brutality inflicted on people in many parts of our world today.” The story rings true to life in so many respects.
There are many parts of the Gospels that some people have trouble with, particularly the miracles of Jesus. Skeptics argue that these miracles could not possibly have happened the way they are described. You don’t have to argue any of that with the passion story – you can see similar things happening in our world all the time.
For example, on March 25, 2020, Carlota Salinas, a women’s human rights defender in Bolivar, Columbia, was murdered outside her home. A few hours before her painful murder, she was out collecting food for families as a means to ward off the effects of the COVID-19 pandemic. She was a mother of two young children and a teenager. According to KAIROS, the pandemic is magnifying violence against women, as armed actors take advantage of institutional and governmental fissures to target individuals and groups working for the most vulnerable. Carlota is one of at least seven social leaders who have been murdered in Colombia since measures to contain COVID-19 have been out in place.
Yes, injustice and violence are alive and well in our world, the same kind of injustice and violence that condemned a wise, peace-loving, story-telling teacher to death 2,000 years ago.
This year, I sit at my kitchen table and watch a light snow falling. The little finches are busy at the bird feeder. My cat is trying to figure out how to catch one of those finches which are so close, just the other side of a pane of glass. I am grateful for the safety of my home. I am grateful that there are dedicated and skilled workers out there trying to save lives. And I am grateful that Jesus showed us another way to live.
This is the first Good Friday since I have been a minister that I have not been utterly focused on making sure the Good Friday worship service is the best, most meaningful it can be. Some years, I have planned a service that involved a lot of drama, with congregation members taking on the roles of soldiers or disciples or Caiaphas or any of the other people that are part of the passion story. In those years, prior to the service, I am very nervous, hoping that everyone remembers their parts. Those dramatic presentations can be really powerful. One year, the whole cast gathered on the sidewalk outside the church doors when it was finished, with tears streaming down their faces. Such is the impact of really immersing yourself in the injustice and agony of the crucifixion story.
This year, my Good Friday worship service is completed. I taped my part of the service on Tuesday morning, sent it off to be processed, received the finished project yesterday, and sent it back out into the world to be seen on youtube today. I am immensely grateful to my ministry colleagues for making this possible, and for tech help from certain members of my church. And for the magic of the internet, most of which is just a mystery to me. So, the worship service is out there, just not in the way it usually is.
Most years, once my responsibilities as worship leader for the Good Friday is completed, I spend the rest of the day in self-isolation. I may go for a walk in the woods if the weather is OK, or I may stay home. I spend time in contemplation of Christ and how his ancient story connects to our ‘today’ story.
This year, I’m not the only one self-isolating. The whole world is joining me in isolating.
One of the things that attracts me to the story of the suffering and death of Jesus is how real it all is. When I read through the gospel accounts, I think, “Yes, I can see how Peter denied even knowing Jesus – he was terrified he was going to be crucified too. Yes, I see how Pilate gets caught up in trying to figure out the politically expedient thing to do, in a dispute that held no interest for him. Yes, I can see how the crowds would love Jesus one day, and want him dead the next – public opinion is often fickle. Yes, the extreme brutality inflicted on Jesus is basically the same as the extreme brutality inflicted on people in many parts of our world today.” The story rings true to life in so many respects.
There are many parts of the Gospels that some people have trouble with, particularly the miracles of Jesus. Skeptics argue that these miracles could not possibly have happened the way they are described. You don’t have to argue any of that with the passion story – you can see similar things happening in our world all the time.
For example, on March 25, 2020, Carlota Salinas, a women’s human rights defender in Bolivar, Columbia, was murdered outside her home. A few hours before her painful murder, she was out collecting food for families as a means to ward off the effects of the COVID-19 pandemic. She was a mother of two young children and a teenager. According to KAIROS, the pandemic is magnifying violence against women, as armed actors take advantage of institutional and governmental fissures to target individuals and groups working for the most vulnerable. Carlota is one of at least seven social leaders who have been murdered in Colombia since measures to contain COVID-19 have been out in place.
Yes, injustice and violence are alive and well in our world, the same kind of injustice and violence that condemned a wise, peace-loving, story-telling teacher to death 2,000 years ago.
This year, I sit at my kitchen table and watch a light snow falling. The little finches are busy at the bird feeder. My cat is trying to figure out how to catch one of those finches which are so close, just the other side of a pane of glass. I am grateful for the safety of my home. I am grateful that there are dedicated and skilled workers out there trying to save lives. And I am grateful that Jesus showed us another way to live.