It is Good Friday. So much to consider. Everything from the cross and all its meaning – old, new & yet discovered – to the students and peers I will say good-bye to next week. Where am I going? Today, I will venture to Tacoma to see my son – for whom I have suffered much and whose suffering brought me to new life. Where on the cross does that fit? I think of papers to grade – a trip to take – my daughter rumbling around in the kitchen – my husband who I enjoyed so much yesterday.
Why? Why all of these things? I feel the pressure to write of Good Friday. (“All the “holy” people are doing it”, says the b.s. in my head. “Move into silence like the other “good” ones.”) Oh my, the inner voices ring loud and I wonder how will I be generous with myself.
How do I get to be me? How do I follow my own voice – be who I am created to be? Who is God? What is God? How can we even define? Yet so many attempt. Attempting truth. Is truth not what we experience? Could truth be being present to our own experiences of each other – of the world – of ourselves?
“Easter and Passover make us experience in ourselves a call out of bondage. So experiencing them doesn’t destroy our religious traditions.” Joseph Campbell
How will I experience Good Friday – like me – like myself? I am aware it is the day of the cross. Do I need to run away from life today – hole up in my sanctuary and pray for hours? Perhaps – if that is what I am called to do from the deep core of my being. I think not. Instead I will go to see my son. How appropriate this mother and son should be together on this day. I will go for a walk with a new friend – breathing fresh air – building new relationship. “We are nailed together by the cross.” – a paraphrase from Jan Richardson’s must read post.
Life afresh and new. Letting the old die. “Whatever comes from a moment’s grace that joins us to our lives and to each other – this is spiritual.” Mark Nepo I would go on to say it is Holy - these things that join us to our lives. The candle that burns on my desk. Music drifting through the room. Clouds that cover the sun. Friends who await my call. God who speaks my name.
It is Good Friday. There is much to be considered.
photo of my son circa 1993