We had our Good Friday service last night. We begin with an agape dinner and worship for Maundy Thursday, but as the sun begins to set we process into the Sanctuary and observe Good Friday.
The sanctuary is darkened and filled with candles. We went through a meditative stations of the cross, with the Taize chant “Jesus Remember Me” sung repeatedly between the stations, as one by one we extinguished the candles. Lovely. I love Lent, particularly Good Friday. It feeds the contemplative in me.
This year was particularly special, because of a quartet of children worshipping right down front. They picked up the words to the chant right away, and sung it for all it was worth. What a wonderful gift! In the darkened room, their voices were sweet and unafraid. A couple of times they were fooled, when we sang the chant fewer times as we got closer and closer to the cross – so all that came out in the silence was “Jesus.” It was beautiful.
I also heard a gasp when they saw the picture of the nails through Jesus’ hands as he was hung on the cross. Totally appropriate. The rest of us don’t gasp, we know it’s coming, we know the story – and over the years we’ve become somewhat numb to the tragedy of the day. After all, we know Easter is coming.
But the children last night were a reminder to us all of some of the lessons of Good Friday. Good Friday is hard; it’s painful, shocking. But also, by observing it in Tenebrae-style worship, we also learn that we don’t have to be afraid of the dark. We can be held there, experience it in that sacred space, and find a way to sing in the dark. And when we do, the most important thing we can sing is “Jesus.”
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