Good Friday

Today was the first time I have been able to attend an Episcopalian Good Friday service. We've been attending our church for about nine years now, but each year I have been unable or unwilling to take the time off to attend the service. Or, we've been traveling to our parents houses for Easter family time.

The latter has always been a tradition for both of our families. It's been a time to get together around the Christian holiday and have a brief visit, usually complicated by the fact that our places of employment don't give time off for it, and that my wife has often worked for churches. She works as a part-time lay minister right now for our church, and it seems important that she be here on most high holy days for that reason.

But usually we're out of town. This year, in my fortieth year on the planet, the time seemed right for what might be a permanent change. We decided to stay home and immerse ourselves in the traditions of our Holy Week. It's been great so far.

I've always been more inspired by penitence than celebration, so Holy Week seems to fit my worship posture (prostrate) of choice, and the Good Friday liturgy was incredibly profound. I must admit that it was quite a bit longer than I had liked, and that my knees and back were sore after the 75 minute service. But that seemed appropriate to the day.

What was most encouraging was the liturgy itself, which mentions many things in the solemn collects which I have never prayed for in a church, even ours. I remember praying for all levels of government by name, including the United Nations (which is the unique part), and a detailed set of prayers for people who don't know Christ, and for people of varying degrees of faith. There was a sense of the evangelical mixed with the thorough desire for unity among the body of Christ. That's not unusual, but the depth of the prayers was worth noting.

My wife noted appropriately that the anthems before the cross (kneeling) were also profound. I was feeling quite a bit of back pain by this point, and kneeling was making my knees hurt, so my focus was wavering. But I did not miss the sung anthem "Faithful Cross"...

Faithful Cross above all others, 
One and only noble tree, 
None in foliage, none in blossom, 
None in fruit thy equal be,
Sweetest wood and sweetest iron,
Sweetest weight is hung on thee.
AMEN 
(Venatius Honorious Fortunatus, tr. J.M. Neale)

Even communion was different, with humble vessels and without the full blessing, provided for us from the "reserve host" which was a very Catholic concept for me. I guess I keep thinking we're much more removed from the transubstantiation issue than we are. There's something which was very serious about that, and how much that signifies.

I've not sorted it all out yet, but my experience was powerful, albeit subtle. I was quieted and humbled by my own humanity in the presence of the divine. The old testament Psalm 22, read in unison was such a distinctly prophetic passage that it almost seemed silly that the folks who were studiers of the Psalms as part of the Torah were not sold on Jesus as their Messiah. But even now we reject Christ. I do so daily by my sin, and that does not make sense. If I could just keep the knowledge of this sort of experience in front of me at all times...