Good Friday was my favorite growing up. By growing up i mean those moody and tumultuous teenage years. In a church where so much seemed boring and ordinary time with it’s polyester green banners lasted so loooooooong the change in colors, the addition of triumphant lilies, the somber and celebratory were so welcome, as was the invitation to feel DEEPLY. As someone who has always felt deeply, i sunk into the emotions of Good Friday like a champ. Our church had a program called “His Last Days.” It was a musical performance that took the audience/congregation through the stations of the cross, and told the story of (as the name suggests) the last days of Jesus. Ever year i looked forward to being moved by the momentum of the music, by the story of a human facing certain death, the range of emotions was enticing-- awe at the sacrifice, devastation at the injustice, deep ache at the confusion at hate that brought the events about, and back to wonder - that anyone could love this much. For years i was left in welcome tears.
In the midwest we look forward to a special day in Spring. It’s not on the calendar, but everyone knows. It’s the one where the sun shines and we Michiganders shed coats and take to the age old tradition of driving around with the windows finally, gloriously down. It’s a final triumph over winter. A ritual celebration of survival. In those first years of being a driver I’d
pop in my “His Last Days” cassette in my 93’ Ford Taurus (maroon, of course) and belt out the words to songs like Via Dolorosa and Calvary, getting lost in the emotions of a community not worthy of the love it’s given. Last year Easter was on one of those first warm days and I searched youtube for the songs of my youth and sang them loudly, with the appropriate tears standing at the edge of my eyes. So here we are - Good Friday again. The world has been quaking in ways big and small for years now, accelerating toward some upheaval. The universe is hellbent on giving us opportunities to learn lessons and we clutch our pearls and rosaries and exclaim how awful. We send thoughts and prayer and donate to gofundme and international aid for the most horrific reasons. Sometimes we pat ourselves on the back, sometimes we stay awake at night and stare at our contended lives feel it’s not enough but feel ill equipped and in all ways unprepared to do more. And then i wonder about sacrifice.
Whether we hold the teachings of the bible high and mighty or we believe that Jesus was just some dude that maybe didn’t even exist - the stories stand as something revered in this time and country, and especially space of West Michigan. But what have we learned from it? So many proclaim they’re not worthy and celebrate God’s love. And that’s the part that has always really touched me - a God that loved so much that he sacrificed his SON. Holy shit. That’s….. Mind boggling. Humbling. Astounding. But what are WE willing to sacrifice? Whether in the name of the Christian God or the Greater Good - what are we willing to lay down? We’re not all being asked to lay down our lives in the mortal stop breathing, heart stop beating sense. But for this evolution to continue, to gain momentum, a sacrifice of ourselves is required. What can you give up about your way of being? What identity are you holding onto? How are you digging in your heals to defend an establishment that does not serve the greater good (and probably doesn’t serve you truly either)? And why? Pride? An obligation to those who came before? A lack of opportunity to reflect and detach? Maybe we may take this Holy week, to consider what we’re willing to sacrifice? Can we sacrifice our need to be right? Can we step away and take a look at why we feel the need to defend establishments so deeply? Can you detach from your identity as a daughter/son of the patriarchy and see where that leaves you in your own soul? This is applicable to so many issues both personal and global. I of course am speaking in veiled and not so veiled ways in context of the shooting of Patrick Lyoya in my home town of Grand Rapids Mi ( right down the street from where my husband’s grandmother lived). About police reform. About the patriarchy and systems of white supremacy. And the same rhetoric floats around. Defund the police?!?!?!?! WHO WILL KEEP US SAFE? Just follow the rules and no one will have to get hurt! Respect authority! If these are your reaction i’m specifically asking you. Why? What are you afraid of? And why do you identify so strongly with the institutions that have mis and dis-served so much of the population for so long? Can you sacrifice that comfort? Maybe your grandfather or uncle was/is a cop. Can you sacrifice the defense of his good name (and by connection, yours) to take a look at a bigger picture, a more creative future? There is so much work to do in anti-racism. And i am not an expert, and i have not done it all. But this is my invitation to you. If it feels uncomfortable, can you start this way? Can you slide your way into it by sacrificing yourself? Can you sacrifice your pride? Can you sacrifice stories of honor and glory of ancestors? Can you detach yourself from the establishments that make you feel comfortable? Just for minute? Just to be clear about your intentions, your connections, your knee-jerk reactions.
Maybe you come back to the same place. Maybe you only move a step away from where you stood. Maybe you do not at all. But i invite you over this weekend in particular to sacrifice the grip on this part of your identity to maybe make a little room for your soul to stir, for connection and unity to build, to let love, capital L Love, step in and lead us to a more peaceful and creative planet led by Love rather than Fear.
Comments