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Good Friday.

Another Good Friday gone by. It feels like a very long time since the last one. I barely had occasion to observe Lent and Holy Week last year while at HoneyRock. This is then my second year of seriously observing these ancient traditions, and I’m thankful to have a church which inspires them with the life of the Spirit.

It was a mixed evening, all in all. I assisted with the stage setup and teardown, a much simpler task than on Sunday mornings. We were a small crew and we all worked well together and had lots of fun at it. Actually, it was the most fun I think I’ve ever had on setup in the two years I’ve been doing it.

The service itself was excellent of course, despite a number of difficulties and destractions revolving around a faulty sound system in Edman Chapel. To tell the truth, the way the system acted up was downright spooky (it was channeling the college radio station on the monitors, and nobody could figure out why; feedback and loud pops would often assault our ears without warning or provocation), but Great Shepherd is a hardy church, and we rolled with it.

It’s hard to say that the service was “good” or “enjoyable” however. Being the commemoration of Christ’s crucifixion, Good Friday service takes on the atmosphere of a funeral, except worse, full of uncomfortable silences and awkward pauses. As Great Shepherd observes it, the stage setting is sparse, the music painfully beautiful, and the program long.

About that long program. In most services, the Eucharist is the central aspect and climax of the liturgy. On Good Friday, the liturgy stands on two legs: first the Veneration of the Cross, then the Eucharist. Both require all the congregation to file through the front of the sanctuary.

The Veneration of the Cross has to be the most terrible moment of the Lenten season, worse even than the Gospel reading on Palm Sunday, when all the congregation calls out together, “Crucify him! Crucify him!” Truly, I want to cry, just thinking about either of them.

During the Veneration, a rude and rugged cross is placed at the front of the central aisle of the sanctuary, with buckets to either side of it. Just before, during the Confession of Sin, one has the opportunity to write their sins down on a slip of paper. As one approaches the front of the sanctuary for the Veneration of the Cross, one may put one’s slip into the bucket (they are all taken and burned after the service). Following this, one may take several actions. Most kneel at the foot of the cross, praying or contemplating. Many cry. Many, before leaving, approach the cross and touch or kiss it. Most bow before the cross. All leave and return to their seat. In some ways, it is like viewing the body in the casket at a funeral, but for some reason, it is much, much worse.

I found myself dreading this service all week, and perhaps I would not have gone at all except for my responsibilities before and after. Thankfully, I had those responsibilities, and did go to the service, and I left fear and apathy there in a bucket at the foot of the cross. There are many things in life that are unpleasant, but beneficial, not because they uplift, but because they sober us and train our minds to think on things which must be thought upon.

Tomorrow, I plan to go to the Easter Vigil. While I have no bells to bring, I do have a good-sized keyring which makes plenty of noise when called upon. Good Friday is good because, and only because we know what comes next, and because, despite all else, after the Confession of Sin, the celebrant still proclaims:

bq. Almighty God, our heavenly Father, who of his great mercy has promised forgiveness of sins to all those who with hearty and true faith turn unto Him, have mercy upon you; pardon and deliver you from all your sins, confirm and strengthen you in all goodness, and bring you to everlasting life; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

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