Saturday, April 07, 2007
Good Friday
Palm Sunday has come and gone. Lent has been lamented. Maundy Thursday was spent on the ballfield in the cold rain. And then Friday came.
I have never really understood why we call it Good Friday. But however the Holy Day received its name, we observe it at our church.
The service takes on many forms - but they are always somber. This year included communion, scripture, song, poetry, music and a homily all woven together to lead us in a time of quiet reflection. It was beautiful and poignant.
No matter how the service is planned, the ending is always the same.
We have a free-standing wooden cross outside of our building. It was placed there early in our existance. Encircled in rocks and always surrounded by beautiful plantings it is the wonderful mix of beauty and roughness.
Just as we mark time in our sanctuary by changing the colors to reflect the Christian calendar, we also change the colors on our cross outside. Red, purple, white and green are the most often seen colors. But after our services on Good Friday it is always changed to black.
The congregation leaves the sanctuary in silence. We gather just outside our door or in the foyer to watch the changing. Our pastor and our children and youth journey to the cross. The red cloth is removed and the black is draped. Hugs and quiet small talk are exchanged as our church family departs.
It is one of those traditions that is leaving an impression on my boys.
My 14 year-old has reached the "when I grow up I will not make my kids (fill in the blank)" stage. Last night it was "attend a Good Friday service." But as the service ended both of my boys were up out of their seats and on their way to the cross with our pastor. No complaining. No hesitating. They were participating in the journey.
My prayer is that they will always participate in the journey laid out for them.
simple faith
Palm Sunday has come and gone. Lent has been lamented. Maundy Thursday was spent on the ballfield in the cold rain. And then Friday came.
I have never really understood why we call it Good Friday. But however the Holy Day received its name, we observe it at our church.
The service takes on many forms - but they are always somber. This year included communion, scripture, song, poetry, music and a homily all woven together to lead us in a time of quiet reflection. It was beautiful and poignant.
No matter how the service is planned, the ending is always the same.
We have a free-standing wooden cross outside of our building. It was placed there early in our existance. Encircled in rocks and always surrounded by beautiful plantings it is the wonderful mix of beauty and roughness.
Just as we mark time in our sanctuary by changing the colors to reflect the Christian calendar, we also change the colors on our cross outside. Red, purple, white and green are the most often seen colors. But after our services on Good Friday it is always changed to black.
The congregation leaves the sanctuary in silence. We gather just outside our door or in the foyer to watch the changing. Our pastor and our children and youth journey to the cross. The red cloth is removed and the black is draped. Hugs and quiet small talk are exchanged as our church family departs.
It is one of those traditions that is leaving an impression on my boys.
My 14 year-old has reached the "when I grow up I will not make my kids (fill in the blank)" stage. Last night it was "attend a Good Friday service." But as the service ended both of my boys were up out of their seats and on their way to the cross with our pastor. No complaining. No hesitating. They were participating in the journey.
My prayer is that they will always participate in the journey laid out for them.
simple faith
# posted by simple faith : 9:19 AM
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