Here’s an extended invitation to worship for Good Friday. It was written by Ann Siddall, based on John
18.
She writes: “I had never noticed before that the liturgical colour is
grey, so the opening words are based on this colour being prominent – on the
communion table, or elsewhere. It may even be more dramatic to have someone
bring in grey cloth and lay it over the table, or at the foot of the cross as
these words are read, perhaps to a background of solemn music.”
Invitation
to Worship for Good Friday
Today is one of the
grey areas of the Christian year:
a day when the lights
are dimmed
and the sky feels
overcast even if it isn’t:
a day when
theologians and poets
feel as if a heavy
veil is drawn over heart and mind.
An inexplicably sad
day.
We resist the grey
areas,
prefer to see
everything in black and white,
look for cloudless,
sunny skies,
try not to read
between the lines;
throw in a bright
colour or two
to try and enliven
the scene.
In the grey light of
early morning -
after a night in the
ecclesiastical high court,
and denial by one of
his own circle -
Jesus found himself
at the gates
of the reluctant
Pilate, who promptly
tried to hand him
back to the Jews.
And though the sun
rose that morning,
the whole world
turned grey for One
who found himself
without friend or helper,
faced with drinking a
cup he’d prayed
would be turned away
from him,
knowing that life was
about to be drained out of him.
We are invited to
accompany Jesus through this grey day:
to be witnesses to
his suffering,
to keep silence
before his cry of dereliction.
In our imaginations,
let us trudge through Jerusalem,
until we come to the
place of the Cross:
and then, let us not
turn our faces away.
In this grey day lie
all the sorrows and failings
of a humanity that
strives for high success,
yet comes up against
human limitations,
and falls to the
ground in despair.
A humanity whose
peace plans
give way to guns, and
whose political promises
become papers in
filing cabinets.
Here is a day marked
by the brokenness of the world.
But it is not a day
to wallow in misery,
or to indulge in
morbid thoughts about the crucifixion.
It is simply a
somber, dignified day
when we remember how
it was for Jesus,
and find at the foot
of the cross
a place to lay down
ours and the world’s sorrow.
On grey days it is
hard to see clearly,
difficult to
understand things that aren’t clear.
Yet all we are asked
to do today is to be present
to the sacred story
as it is retold, and
to the inexplicable,
mysterious, wondrous
transaction that was,
and still is taking place.
~
written by Ann Siddall, and posted on
the website of the Stillpoint Spirituality Centre. http://www.stillpointsa.org.au/
