Friday, April 18, 2014

Good Friday


Today is one of the grey areas of the Christian year
a day when the lights are dimmed
and the sky feels overcast even if it isn't:
a day when theologians and poets feel
as if a heavy veil is drawn over heart and mind.
An inexplicably sad day. 

We resist the grey areas
Prefer to see everything in black and white,
look for cloudless, sunny skies,
throw in a bright colour or two
to try and enliven the scene. 

In the grey light of early morning - 
after a night in the ecclesiastical high court, 
and denial by one of his own circle - 
Jesus sound himself at the gates 
of the reluctant Pilate, who promptly 
tried to hand him back to the Jews. 

And though the sun rose that morning, 
the whole world turned grey for One
who found himself without friend or helper
faced with drinking a cup he'd prayed
would be turned away from him,
knowing that life was about to be drained out of him. 

Here's a day marked by the brokenness of the world
But it is not a day to wallow in misery
or to indulge in morbid thoughts about the crucifixion. 
It is simply a somber, dignified day
when we remember how it was for Jesus,
and find at the foot of the cross
a place to lay down ours and the world's sorrow. 

We are invited to accompany Jesus through this grey day: 
to be witnesses to his suffering,
to keep silence before his cries of dereliction. 
All we are asked to do today is to be present
to the sacred story as it is retold, and
to the inexplicable, mysterious, wondrous
transaction that was, and still is taking place. (adapted, Ann Siddall)

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