Saturday, April 11, 2009

Dear God,

I donned the dress and the scarf and became both myself and the woman of the bible. As I followed the readers all dressed in black, I gazed upon the crosses. Although I sat in the front pew on the left, I was really at the foot of the cross. I listened as the passion of Christ was read, the story of your Son, his willingness to love unconditionally, really a mad passion. I watched as if some video were playing. The images appeared on the screen of my heart. The arrest, the denial, the judgement, the hanging. I was overwhelmed, tears spilling from my eyes. Remembering.

Was I once there? Have I visited that cross before? Have I been part of the crowd? Have I denied, judged, condemned? Have I wept bitterly?

As we "crucified" our own Jesus, he "died" and they carried him away. The purple robe lay on the floor, the robe the mockers had placed on his shoulders. I quietly stood, walked toward it, leaned down, pulled it to my face and I sobbed. Not for long because I knew the reproaches would begin and I had to be back in my place at the pew. But my tears flowed into the cloth, a sign of both his kingship and his presence.

I was not prepared to cry. I hadn't rehearsed crying. I knew I would pick up the cloth and place it on the cross but I did not know my heart would break. I did not know that cloth would become the person of Jesus.

I stayed long after the sanctuary emptied. Just a handful of people remained in the back. I would have stayed longer. A thought occurred to me that I wished I could have stayed all night. I wonder what would have happened.

I wonder.

I am left
with a
raw nerve,
a sign
of my
own vulnerability.
This relationship,
of your Son
and me,
of all
of us
touches a
deep cord
within me.
Commemoration,
it is
a simple commemoration
we do
every Good Friday,
but every
dark Friday
is for me
an opening
to brokenness,
mine, ours, yours.
I want
it to be
that way.
I cannot,
do not want
to walk away
as if nothing
has happened.
I want
to feel
the emotion
of that day,
of love spilt,
poured out,
dripping for humankind.
I spilled
my tears
for you.

Love, Andrea