Good for Good Friday

Rarely do we allow each other to be sad. We are distracted, redirected, and cheered up way beyond our good.
We want smiles, and laughter, anything besides sadness, anger, fear, or anxiety. Cue the internet cats -- we need to smile. When we have a friend who is sad, we do our best to cheer.

Why?

Because we can't stand it.

Then came Good Friday...

Our meeting has a Good Friday service, and it is sad. The songs are sad, the guided meditation is sad, and the hugs that come afterwards (we are Southerners -- we hug) seem more fit for a funeral than for after meeting. I know this is typical across denominations -- Maundy Thursday and Good Friday services are sad, and I am grateful. I wonder if anyone else sees this as a bonding experience with their fellow congregants.

When Molly was about 8, she sat with me during Good Friday, listening. There had been a thunderstorm that night, and Easter was a little early, so it was already getting dark. She leans over during the guided meditation.

"What does crucifixion mean?" She was just getting control over her "we are whispering in public" whisper.

"Putting someone on a wooden cross and setting them up to hang there and die." I couldn't take the time to be more delicate. I probably should have told her we would talk about it on the way home, but I wanted to seize the teachable moment while I had it.

"How do you hang up someone up on a cross?" She looked like she already knew the answer, but needed clarification just in case it really wasn't as awful as she imagined. I know the people behind us could hear our conversation, but I figured they could either deal with the noise or find some dying congregation that didn't like children.

I explained it to her as gently as I could. I used her hands and showed here where the nails would have gone and said that they probably just used one big spike for both feet in the same place. She began to sob and put her head on my shoulder.

"Who could do that to someone else?" Tears fell. I took her to the ladies' room to calm down and clean up. I tried to explain to her that we have learned a lot about the world in the last 2,000 years, and that we aren't accustomed to such methods anymore, but that back then crucifixion was pretty common. In fact, that Good Friday saw three crosses there, not just one. She only cried harder.

Sadness had oozed in the meeting room, and into our minds, At the end of the service, adults sitting around us hugged me and kissed Molly's head. They sat with us in sadness, and they shared. They didn't try to cheer her up, they were just present with her and for her.

That Sunday, we put Molly in an adorable dress, and she wore her special "just for fun" glasses, and we had an Easter Egg hunt in the churchyard. It was almost as if Friday hadn't happened.

Almost. But not quite. Without Friday, there would be no Sunday.

I want to remember this moment. Of course I remember it now, during the time we commemorate Christ's resurrection, but I want to remember it throughout the year, when someone is sad. When I am sad, I don't always want someone to cheer me up, but I always want someone with me to sit and be present with me. When the time passes, I want someone to rejoice with me, not distract me.

We talk about keeping the Christmas spirit alive throughout the year, but I think I will keep the Good Friday spirit alive also, being present with people as they progress to Easter, no matter what time of year it is.