Good Friday Thoughts

Last night I had the privilege of participating in a Maundy Thursday service at my church. The format was simple and profoundly reverent. Each person came into a dimly lit sanctuary and could spend as little or as much time as they desired for silent prayer and meditation, and then the Lord's Supper was offered at the front with the help of our pastor and several deacons. During this time, various singers and instrumentalists were invited to play in a continuous flow of music with a theme of the cross. While waiting for my turn to play, I was able to do my own meditating and to watch the faces and the families as they came to the front. Each person approached their actions differently, but a definite sense of awe and sincerity was evident.

I played both of my selections and then made my way to the front to partake of the wafer and juice. The soloist after me began singing "How Beautiful," the inspired song written by Twila Paris. Just as I placed the wafer in my mouth, the following words were sung: "How beautiful is the body of Christ. And as He laid down His life, we offer this sacrifice -- that we will live just as He died: willing to pay the price, willing to pay the price." I was so struck by the reality that I had just tasted a representation of the body of Christ that I could hardly swallow because of the tears and the emotion that started to flow. I doubt that anyone other than our pastor noticed my struggle, but it was a moment of profound truth for me.

So many thoughts were stirred in those moments, many having to do with a particular Good Friday that we experienced in Ecuador -- specifically in the city of Cuenca. We knew that we wanted to try the traditional Viernes Santo (Good Friday) dish which is a soup made up of 12 different grains and dried fish. We had seen the ingredients for this fanesca prominently displayed at the markets for several days and had inquired about the best places to try it. We went. We ate. We were glad that was over. :) It certainly didn't resemble the good homemade vegetable soups we used to have at home or Bob Gibson's good ol' Brunswick stew, but it was edible. If it hadn't been for the dried fish, and if it had been served with cornbread, we might have liked it just fine. Oh well. At least we tried to "do as the Ecuadorians do."

Much more than eating fanesca, I will forever remember the atmosphere of Good Friday in Cuenca. Normally, it was a very noisy city. To drive there, you need three things: a steering wheel, an accelerator, and a horn -- but not necessarily in that order. Considering the massive numbers of taxis, buses, plus poorly-maintained trucks and cars on the roads, horns blow incessantly, brakes squeal, gears shift loudly. It's just accepted. Not so on Good Friday. For a large portion of the day, it was eerily quiet. Everyone spoke in whispers. Those who drove went slower, and the buses and taxis seemed to disappear. This predominantly Catholic culture was singularly focused on the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. I admired that, and it seemed "right" to me somehow. What didn't seem right, though, was the fact that when Easter Sunday rolled around, it was "business as usual." As a matter of fact, there were FEWER people in church on Easter than on a regular Sunday. That culture, as seen by the many statues of Jesus hanging on the cross in their churches, appears to think much more in terms of the Suffering Christ and His death on the cross than on His triumphant resurrection on the 3rd day.

I'm glad I've had a chance in the past couple of days to direct my thoughts to Calvary, and I have a lot of excitement about celebrating the risen Savior on Sunday morning.