That side of the cross
{ Posted on Saturday, March 22, 2008
by alan
}
This was the saddest day I have ever spent at my church.
The gathering started serenely, some music, candles and readings from scripture. We shared communion at the beginning of service. I assumed it was because the officiant wanted to go home and we were starting late by any standard - we had to wait for the mixed language Good Friday cantata to finish.
But it was right, the bread was broken first, the wine drunk before the event began.
The readings were straight from the text, surely less captivating that any of the productions - Gibson's Passion being the last one to move me. Narrative pausing was rough, Henry actually sounded out the Judas kiss... But we were plugged in.
And the cello was fantastic. Strings, I tell you, tug on my heart's strings. I could listen to Jen's voice anywhere, but her prayer was the right one - amplify - and the symphony of music transported me to another time and place, oh so long ago.
There was a video, too, no doubt for the purpose of mixing it up. Jen, I'll mention her again, wisely waited for the technical team to catch up without speaking a word or waving a hand. The moment was pregnant with anticipation, the pause just a little too long keeping us on edge. Entirely accidental, entirely necessary.
The question was asked, my sins laid bare. I responded, perhaps more faithfully than ever before. Two threads I pulled from the wordless words, and tied them to a crown of thorns fit for a giant. Christianity sometimes seems like that, a giant out of place on a world of humans.
The music played on, and then I kneeled before the cross, in front of the suffering servant, the Christ, and began to think - well, there wasn't a cross, it's hidden behind the projection screen, but I kneeled in my pew and followed the music to that place, Golgotha, oh so long ago. But I thought. And closed my eyes. And cried.
Jesus is dead.
The gathering started serenely, some music, candles and readings from scripture. We shared communion at the beginning of service. I assumed it was because the officiant wanted to go home and we were starting late by any standard - we had to wait for the mixed language Good Friday cantata to finish.
But it was right, the bread was broken first, the wine drunk before the event began.
The readings were straight from the text, surely less captivating that any of the productions - Gibson's Passion being the last one to move me. Narrative pausing was rough, Henry actually sounded out the Judas kiss... But we were plugged in.
And the cello was fantastic. Strings, I tell you, tug on my heart's strings. I could listen to Jen's voice anywhere, but her prayer was the right one - amplify - and the symphony of music transported me to another time and place, oh so long ago.
There was a video, too, no doubt for the purpose of mixing it up. Jen, I'll mention her again, wisely waited for the technical team to catch up without speaking a word or waving a hand. The moment was pregnant with anticipation, the pause just a little too long keeping us on edge. Entirely accidental, entirely necessary.
The question was asked, my sins laid bare. I responded, perhaps more faithfully than ever before. Two threads I pulled from the wordless words, and tied them to a crown of thorns fit for a giant. Christianity sometimes seems like that, a giant out of place on a world of humans.
The music played on, and then I kneeled before the cross, in front of the suffering servant, the Christ, and began to think - well, there wasn't a cross, it's hidden behind the projection screen, but I kneeled in my pew and followed the music to that place, Golgotha, oh so long ago. But I thought. And closed my eyes. And cried.
Jesus is dead.
14 Response to "That side of the cross"
Wait...are you talking about MCBC?
because we didn't have communion in the start...o_O
Mm... Poetry, even bad poetry just can't be explained by the author. But, Erika, a little more carefully, the clues are in the blog.
Erika... *sigh* nevermind
okay
the 'mixed language' and the fact that the cross is behind the projection screen leads me to believe it's mcbc.
butt...the communion in the beginning doesn't..
and we had no candles! or cello!
or is this talking about worship after the service? 'cause i wasn't there..:(
Erika, please read the post again:
"We shared communion at the beginning of service. I assumed it was because the officiant wanted to go home and we were starting late by any standard - we had to wait for the mixed language Good Friday cantata to finish."
Is it not obvious from this statement that he is talking about the worship after the service? Because he is.
gees, ryan.
i wasn't even at the worship after the service.
it was too late :(
but i didn't think there'd be another communion...:(
Ahh, highschoolers - the foremost experts in missing the forest for the trees.
So now you have figured out the facts...
:(
I wasn't at the other service either...
:'(!
I don't mean to draw out the frowny faces, I'm just saying now that you have the facts, maybe you can interact with the post.
From my perspective, it was such an intimate out-pouring of faithful reverence to Christ, that got scuttled by 10 comments of huh? what? whaddaya talkin' bout?
Throw me a bone!
Reading this gives me a reminder of what I've missed this Easter.
thanks for posting your thoughts, Alan. It's been encouraging listening to the feedback/experiences from Friday.
my heart was encouraged to see the freedom and abandonment displayed in worship from our beloved congregation during that night.
you're right, the communion at the beginning was intentional because Jesus ate the bread before he bore our suffering and we thought it was only right that we played it out as such...seeing as we wanted everyone to go on the journey. hopefully the little differences (video, cello, response) allowed enough of a shift to refocus ppl's mind on the God yet very human man at the centre of it all.
i loved this easter. Jesus is more real to me this year than ever before. maybe it was running around prepping for this event and reading my bible to make sure everything was just right that let me immerse myself in the event of easter. praying for more of these moments in the coming years :)
Thanks, Jen, both for the remarks and your good heart in our church. You are a moment of truth!
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