God So Loved The World

As we slipped out of the gathered crowd at the Garden and made our way into the sacristy, another server paused and reverenced the altar and then caught herself and I could see that we had had the same thought at the same time.

He’s not there anymore.

For anyone who has ever thought that belief was a crutch, that faith was taking the easy way out, that religion wanted to pretend like it had all the answers, all the things we’ve seen over the last twenty-four hours say that nothing could be further from the truth.

Because this is a day when believing in God means believing that he died. It means believing that the darkness has fallen, that the light of the world has gone out, and that the man who was our most beloved hope and who came to be the saviour of us all is simply not there anymore.

My God, my God. Why have you forsaken me?

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7 comments

  1. Beth – I find Good Friday a difficult part of the Christian Calendar. I seen many different ways of marking it. I was brought up when Good Friday meant a three hour service. Then I was introduced to a service of Veneration of the Cross, which included consumption of the Sacrament that had been watched until midnight on Maundy Thursday.

    This evening I have found myself reflecting on a series of Motets and Fauré’s Requiem that I have heard performed. In many ways it provided a means of reflecting of on the holy mysteries as we move through the events of Holy Week towards Easter.

    He has died . . . . . .

    1. I grew up in a Roman Catholic family that marked Good Friday in the cultural but not the theological sense, and so as a child thought that it simply involved not being allowed to eat meat. It’s only been in the last two or three years that I’ve kept the Triduum at all — and in that relatively short space of time, the act of keeping it has become one of the most important parts of my year.

      He has died. He has been buried. The anthems and hymns that we sang tonight felt to me like a funeral, one final act of commemoration in a place filled with a great deal of love.

  2. That was me! :-)
    Out of sheer habit, I bowed as I crossed in front of the altar and just the same split second I was doing it… I remembered.
    I was embarrassed and a little ashamed, but maybe that was useful, as I haven’t forgotten since that moment.
    x

    1. I’ve been doing it all day today, whenever I’ve gone through St Anne’s. And then I’ve remembered. It’s complete habit. It will never never not feel horrible to not do it.

  3. Lovely Beth. Such a simple, poignant and beautiful way to capture all of this. I find that some of the most profund moments within Triduum are sometimes the simplest. how well you summed it up: “One final act of commemoration…filled with a great deal of love”. Easter blessings to you

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