I attended an ecumenical Good Friday service today. It was held at a beautiful church in Flint. The sanctuary was ornate and formal. The choir was comprised of several choirs from around the area. The ministers were robed, distinguished and accomplished. The entire setting was very different than what I’m used to…which was exactly why I attended. Our environment can have a huge impact on our experience and I needed something dissimilar.
As soon as I quieted myself in the pew I noticed an inner desire to push ahead. I wasn’t bored and I didn’t have anywhere else to go. The readings were sorrowful and the music was slow and dark. I wanted to jump ahead to the end of the story but grief cannot be hurried. There is no celebration on Sunday with out Friday’s passion. And the heaviness of Good Friday joins me to all those who follow Chirst…those who have gone before…those who circle the globe today.
So I read, I prayed, I sang and I sat in sad silence.
After the service I took some photos of doors and thresholds. I found them in cemeteries and it seemed strangely appropriate for today.