Good Friday

For the last several years, I've skipped all or most of the workday on Good Friday to attend the so-called three-hour service (or, if you prefer, the Good Friday vigil). At my last parish, this service consisted of the Morning Office, spoken; Ante-Communion (without the priest receiving from the Reserved Sacrament, as is often done); the Stations of the Cross; the Seven Last Words from the Cross; and a simple, spoken Evening Office. Today's service at our new parish was similar, and yet remarkable.

It was similar in structure and in content. The Morning Office was omitted, having been said earlier in the day. Instead of Ante-Communion, Fr. McGrath began with what he called the "Good Friday Service Proper", which included reading the Collect, Epistle, and Gospel for Good Friday. (I read the Epistle, Hebrews x, and unfortunately did so poorly, in spite of a more than usual amount of preparation; Hebrews is tough). While there is certainly something positive to be said about the impact of isolating of the Propers, I think I would have preferred Ante-Communion. Perhaps I'm just a creature of comfort and habit.

Then, after a short opportunity for silent prayer and meditation, Fr. McGrath began a program of the Seven Last Words from the Cross, itself based on a program produced by the Rev'd Dr. Toon. Fr. McGrath inserted some additional collects, and more importantly (to me at least) included a portion of Hymn 82 after each of the "Words." So, every 15 minutes, Fr. McGrath would open with a collect, recite the "Words", recite the brief homily and prayer from the Rev'd Dr. Toon's program, lead us in a portion of Hymn 82, and then provide us an opportunity for silent prayer and meditation before the next "Words."

It was remarkable. I've participated in several Seven Last Words from the Cross programs in the past, at times as a reader, but I've never been as moved, or perhaps to put it better, as taken, than with this one. The pacing was perfect; the content was poignant, taking my mind to the Cross; and the Hymn was moving, taking my heart there also. The time between readings was enough to let the Spirit do His work, but not so much that the mind wandered. Including myself, there were only three persons in the nave; that's a pity, and our parishioners just don't know what they missed.

After the seventh of the "Words," Bill and I read the Evening Office. Actually, Fr. McGrath preferred that I begin directly with the proper Psalms, so it was only "sort of" the Evening Office. We slipped up and wore our surplices, but such is life. It was fortunate that Bill read the lessons, for they weren't the easiest. I enjoyed Bill's reading; the Good Friday evening lessons are actually one of my favorite sets. The correlation between Isaiah lii-liii and I St. Peter ii is awesome. The language of both is poetic without being repetitive or superfluous. Again, it's a shame more folks weren't present.

The Evening Office concluded the service. I must say that I missed the Stations of the Cross. Of all of the liturgical "extras" to be had in Anglicanism, this is the one I remember doing earliest. The dear old priest of my childhood taught me the stations, and this came during the time when I first considered devoting my life to the service of the Lord. I guess they just have a special place in my heart. I think I'll take my copy of the stations to church tomorrow and find some time to read them, if Fr. McGrath will allow me.

Good Friday has always been a bit tough for me; I agonize and feel puny when I try to understand the magnitude of our Lord's passion and sacrifice, and when I ponder the Cross. I usually have to hold back the tears. Not so today; and yet, I think I felt it more deeply than ever before. It certainly stayed with me longer. Once I returned to work (I had a major deadline today, which I missed in part because I took most of the day off), I just couldn't get my mind off of the Cross.

I still can't. I look forward to Easter, as I always do, but I wish I had more time to pray and meditate about the Cross. I feel as if I'm on the edge of something, but I can't explain what it is because it remains just out of my mind's reach. It's as if I can see headlights coming, but I cannot yet make out the vehicle that bears them. It's odd and hard to describe. Perhaps tomorrow will bring more understanding.

A last note before I sleep: tonight, Prudence recited almost all of the Lord's Prayer with Deirdre. We've only been working with her on this for a week now. I know this is no special feat for a three-year-old, but it still warms my heart and makes me proud. I didn't know the Lord's Prayer until grade school; Deirdre didn't know it until Confirmation. Prudence is such a joy, and such a blessing from God.