It crossed my mind this year, how the church’s activities of Good Friday are so little like what probably happened all those years ago on the hills outside of Jerusalem.
We will gather, many of us at the ‘correct’ time of 3pm but without taking into account that DST wasn’t part of that long ago story, and re-enact the happenings of that day. These often include the 7 last words of Jesus, compliments of an amalgamation of the writings of all the writers of the gospels along with the stations of the cross, which originated with pilgrimages to Jerusalem. The tradition of moving around the Stations to commemorate the Passion of Christ began with St. Francis of Assisi and extended throughout the Roman Catholic Church in medieval times. Then we leave the building silently, get into our cars, and disperse.
This is a powerful Act II, following the drama of Maundy Thursday and acting as a precursor to the final act of Easter. But is it what really happened on that day so long ago? Granted we will never know, having only the varying accounts of the Gospel writers, who were not eye-witnesses, written decades later to their various communities.
We can dispense with the 7 Last Words and the Stations of the Cross. They are both later additions to the story. What we are left with is the crucifixion of a man outside of Jerusalem, the punishment by the Roman authorities for those who took a stand against Rome and Roman laws. That his followers weren’t crucified beside him tells us, according to John Dominic Crossan, that the authorities felt they had nothing to fear from them.
Imagine if you had been there as part of the crowd watching the event, maybe staying around until the body could be taken down and then taking it somewhere where it would be safe from wild animals overnight. What are you going to do then? Slink away silently on your own? That wouldn’t have been my first choice. I would have wanted to be with those with whom I had shared the events of the past day, those who grieved with me, and even more importantly, had the same memories to share that I did. I can imagine us all gathering in the first-century equivalent of Tim Horton’s, where we would blend with the crowd, and talk about the day just past and what it meant to each of us.
And so, while the drama of Good Friday will send us on our way to the good news of Easter morning, coffee hour following that service should be an integral part of it, letting us discuss the experience with others who have undergone it with us, and recommit ourselves to living out the Easter story in its entirety.
Coffee, anyone?
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