There were no questions at the end of today's reflection in Iona Dawn, except the lingering question that the reflection left with me. It told the story of Rachel - grieving her dying husband and receiving the pattest and least helpful of answers from her priest.
Am I that priest? Would I answer her questions with the same kind of pat answer, and dismissive assurance?
I trust I wouldn't, that I would not feel the need to try to lessen her grief with unhelpful 'there-there's and deny her anger with God with a 'soon it will all be better'.
I did a lot of reflecting on the Good Friday experience today as I tried to get ready for worship in three days. All the liturgical resources that ended with a note of hope seemed so out of place, so quickly reassuring. As much as I dislike the idea of atonement - that someone without sin had to die for all our sins, and will therefore search for other reasons for Jesus' execution, I also want to hold within me the grief, the pain, the complicity that we the members of the crowd share in what happened. Easter does not hold the same importance without Good Friday. That's why we mark Palm and Passion Sunday as well. It doesn't make sense to go from celebration (flawed though it was in concept and expectation (I'm talking Palm Sunday here)) to celebration without reflecting on what went on in between.
The fact is that political disturbers - whether peaceful in their methods or not - can get executed. Oscar Romero came to mind today, and just now so did Martin Luther King, and Dietrich Bonhoeffer.
Good Friday is not going to be a happy service. It never should be, and the pain and sorrow, sadness and despair are as important to us on the Easter weekend as the celebration that comes with sunrise on Easter Sunday.
