Good Friday, 2016
25/03/16 05:04
First of all a bit of calendar trivia that is probably not common knowledge even among faithful Christians who celebrate all of the holidays of the Christian calendar. The Annunciation of the Lord is a feast day that celebrates the angel Gabriel’s visit to Mary announcing that she had been chosen to be the Mother of Jesus. The day is a solemnity, which is the highest ranking of any feast in the Catholic liturgical calendar. Other solemnities include Easter, Pentecost Day, Christmas and Trinity Sunday. The feast falls on March 25, exactly nine months before the festival of Christmas on December 25. That is except when March 25 lands during Holy Week. When that occurs the celebration is transferred to the first open day after Easter Sunday. This year the Solemnity of the Annunciation will be celebrated on Monday, April 4. Don’t worry if that confuses you. We rarely make a formal observance of the Annunciation except when we read the story from the Gospel of Luke as part of our Advent and Christmas celebrations.
It is important for us that Good Friday stand alone, uncluttered by other distractions. As a day dedicated to the pain of Jesus and the grief of his family and friends, it makes sense to just take time to let it all sink in.
In reality, however, our thoughts are rarely perfectly focused. There are all kinds of distractions from the process of living that clutter our thinking. Even with a holiday from school and some businesses, Good Friday is often cluttered with plans for Easter, shopping, and the normal business of life. We attend a service at church. We spend time in prayer. And we get on with our lives. I remember my father’s policy as a small businessman decades ago. His employees were allowed time off with pay if they attended a Good Friday worship service at a church. He did not, however, close his business. It was staffed by employees who chose not to attend church services. I don’t remember anyone ever raising a concern that this practice wasn’t fair. It was a small business with only a handful of employees in a small town where Good Friday services were usually community services shared by several different congregations.
As we gather for services in our church today, I will be slightly less focused due to the realities of life in a parish. My thoughts will drift to a member of our congregation just back from Rochester, MN, where he received confirmation of a serious diagnosis and the outlines of a very aggressive plan of treatment that will occupy the remainder of the spring, summer and fall. And I will be thinking of a visit I made to the VA hospice in Sturgis yesterday, where I served communion to a man to whom I first served communion nearly 38 years ago. In this life nothing is certain, but it appears that it will be his last formal service of communion. Our next worship service with him and the circle of family that was gathered at his bedside will probably be his funeral.
It isn’t just that people get sick and die. There is no real surprise in that. When we are honest we all are aware, at some level, of our mortality and the mortality of others. In the case of yesterday’s visit, we are also aware of the dying of a community. After decades of funerals, the church was no longer able to remain open. We will celebrate the funeral in a neighboring town. And the crowd will be small. There aren’t many people left in the town these days. The school is closed. Most of the businesses on main street are closed. Some of the houses are empty. The way of life of that particular corner of North Dakota is passing away along with the people who populated its churches and cafes and bars and places of business.
We are “fixers.” We are attracted to doing something. We like to find solutions. And we live in a culture that is adverse to talking about death and rushes to get over times of sadness. Of the events of Holy Week, Palm Sunday and Easter are the big ones. Those are the days when there is a crowd at church. The mid week events are more sparsely attended. Of course we can worship God without large numbers. Wherever two or three are gathered worship can be meaningful. But there is something in every one of us, even those of us who attend every worship service during Holy Week, that leads us to the sense of resolution that comes with Easter. We long for the celebration of life.
But that longing must be the mood of this day. It is not yet time for the fulfillment. The journey is not yet over. As I sat with the family in that room yesterday, we all were aware that the passage from life to death takes place on its own timeframe. There was no acknowledgement of human clocks and calendars in the process of dying. It wasn’t a situation that could be predicted or fixed or changed. It has to play out in its own way and its own sense of timing.
Today is a good day to simply slow down and sit with the reality of death and grief. We know the story, but we will read the words once again. We are aware of the painful details, yet we will allow ourselves to experience that pain once again. There is no fixing, just witnessing.
I often joke that Holy Week is more about moving furniture than worship. We do move the furniture a lot as we go through the series of services, each with its own unique setting. But today there is very little furniture that needs to be moved. Today we are allowed to just sit with the Gospel story and the depth of the events. Today we can contemplate not only the reality of death, but the power of love in the presence of death.
It is important for us that Good Friday stand alone, uncluttered by other distractions. As a day dedicated to the pain of Jesus and the grief of his family and friends, it makes sense to just take time to let it all sink in.
In reality, however, our thoughts are rarely perfectly focused. There are all kinds of distractions from the process of living that clutter our thinking. Even with a holiday from school and some businesses, Good Friday is often cluttered with plans for Easter, shopping, and the normal business of life. We attend a service at church. We spend time in prayer. And we get on with our lives. I remember my father’s policy as a small businessman decades ago. His employees were allowed time off with pay if they attended a Good Friday worship service at a church. He did not, however, close his business. It was staffed by employees who chose not to attend church services. I don’t remember anyone ever raising a concern that this practice wasn’t fair. It was a small business with only a handful of employees in a small town where Good Friday services were usually community services shared by several different congregations.
As we gather for services in our church today, I will be slightly less focused due to the realities of life in a parish. My thoughts will drift to a member of our congregation just back from Rochester, MN, where he received confirmation of a serious diagnosis and the outlines of a very aggressive plan of treatment that will occupy the remainder of the spring, summer and fall. And I will be thinking of a visit I made to the VA hospice in Sturgis yesterday, where I served communion to a man to whom I first served communion nearly 38 years ago. In this life nothing is certain, but it appears that it will be his last formal service of communion. Our next worship service with him and the circle of family that was gathered at his bedside will probably be his funeral.
It isn’t just that people get sick and die. There is no real surprise in that. When we are honest we all are aware, at some level, of our mortality and the mortality of others. In the case of yesterday’s visit, we are also aware of the dying of a community. After decades of funerals, the church was no longer able to remain open. We will celebrate the funeral in a neighboring town. And the crowd will be small. There aren’t many people left in the town these days. The school is closed. Most of the businesses on main street are closed. Some of the houses are empty. The way of life of that particular corner of North Dakota is passing away along with the people who populated its churches and cafes and bars and places of business.
We are “fixers.” We are attracted to doing something. We like to find solutions. And we live in a culture that is adverse to talking about death and rushes to get over times of sadness. Of the events of Holy Week, Palm Sunday and Easter are the big ones. Those are the days when there is a crowd at church. The mid week events are more sparsely attended. Of course we can worship God without large numbers. Wherever two or three are gathered worship can be meaningful. But there is something in every one of us, even those of us who attend every worship service during Holy Week, that leads us to the sense of resolution that comes with Easter. We long for the celebration of life.
But that longing must be the mood of this day. It is not yet time for the fulfillment. The journey is not yet over. As I sat with the family in that room yesterday, we all were aware that the passage from life to death takes place on its own timeframe. There was no acknowledgement of human clocks and calendars in the process of dying. It wasn’t a situation that could be predicted or fixed or changed. It has to play out in its own way and its own sense of timing.
Today is a good day to simply slow down and sit with the reality of death and grief. We know the story, but we will read the words once again. We are aware of the painful details, yet we will allow ourselves to experience that pain once again. There is no fixing, just witnessing.
I often joke that Holy Week is more about moving furniture than worship. We do move the furniture a lot as we go through the series of services, each with its own unique setting. But today there is very little furniture that needs to be moved. Today we are allowed to just sit with the Gospel story and the depth of the events. Today we can contemplate not only the reality of death, but the power of love in the presence of death.