Friday,
Good Friday, Good Friday in a time of confinement is certainly much different than
how many of us had imagined this day in our minds. I know that this is definitely
not the way I thought we would be spending this time. One thing I was sure of
is that we would be together involved in, perhaps, the annual three-hour
observance that we have done for many years at St Mary’s Church on Castleton
Avenue, but we are not. We are not even physically together, so it is very
different, but yet so very familiar at the same time. Let’s think about Jesus, his walking, his
falling, his encounters with others, and encountering ourselves in his passion.
In
this time of quarantine, I have found solace and renewed energy in the mere act
of walking. I try to walk a few miles each day either in my neighborhood, or
even on my roof deck. Both of which have their challenges. Walking around the
deck can become monotonous, and I have found myself spending time rearranging
the potted plants and patio furniture more times than I want to publicly admit.
And walking around the St George/Tompkinsville neighborhood has its limitations
as well. Setting up a circuit of walking around the park and down to the
waterfront and then looping past Lyon’s pool presents challenges that include
our new normal of “social distancing”, and avoiding any real eye-contact with
other folks who also look as menacing in their face masks and gloved hands as
we do.
I
am grateful that I have a well broken-in pair of comfortable walking shoes to
wear on those rare occasions when I venture out to do my essential tasks like
grocery shopping, banking and post office drop offs. I often worry about folks
who don’t have the luxury of having good shoes that fit well; walking in ill-fitting
shoes can be painful.
How
often have we heard someone use the expression “walk a mile in my shoes” when
they want us to think about what it would be like to live with the trials and tribulations
of another human. But, have you ever really walked in someone else’s
shoes? It is very, very difficult. And
this is because every foot is different. This is why we often have to painfully
“break in” our own shoes. I can recall days of enduring blisters and foot pain
breaking in several pairs of fashionable heels in my teens and twenties. There
are now websites that recommend anything from spraying rubbing alcohol and
water into new shoes and wearing them around the house for thirty minute
stretches. Or the site that suggests filling re-sealable plastic storage bags
with water, stuffing them into your shoes and putting them in the freezer
overnight. And finally a suggestion to use a hair drier to gently warm those
uncomfortable tight spots while wearing the shoes….do that one carefully. Once
our shoes are molded to our individual foot, they become ours, and basically
uncomfortable and almost impossible for someone else to wear.
This
is also why it is often difficult to donate used foot wear. Although there is a
large market for used shoes and sneakers in Africa and parts of the Caribbean
where they are sold on the secondary market to people who are happy to get any
kind of shoes, sandals or sneakers. These
shoes are then re-worked and broken in all over again. Walking with any kind of
foot covering in dry and dusty terrain is better than going barefoot. This was
brought home to me about two months ago on my pilgrimage to Israel and on the
Via Dolorosa.
The
Via Dolorosa is a processional route in the Old City of Jerusalem said to be
the path that Jesus walked on the way to his crucifixion. It winds from the
Antonia Fortress to the dark and eerie Church of the Holy Sepulcher near the
Damascus Gate. The walk is about 2,000 feet in length and is marked by fourteen
stations: nine outside the Church of the Holy Sepulcher and five inside the
church. It is an emotional and moving
journey and, if you are fortunate enough to walk it in situ, will change how
you forever look on both Good Friday and the resurrected Christ.
My
own journey began at 5:45 am in the morning on a very damp and dreary day in my
hotel just outside the walls of the Old City near the Jaffa Gate. My pilgrimage
group of fifteen women and our Palestinian Christian guide were determined to
complete our walking meditation as early as possible to avoid both the crowds
of other pilgrims and the inevitable onslaught of street hawkers and store
merchants who were determined to separate as many of us from our shekels, euros
or dollars as was possible. But our intrepid group was banking on our early
rising which would put us on the streets before the shops were opened and the
hawkers stocked. This meant we did quite a bit of dodging delivery trucks and
garbage vans, but the plan paid off in the end. Our walk was relatively quiet
with time for meditation as we walked the rain soaked cobbled-stone streets
stopping at every station on the way. At each station one of us would read a
scriptural excerpt and a brief meditation that soon revealed itself as a real
time rosary knitting together for us the horrific events of that Friday so far
in the past, yet so very close at that moment in time. As each one of us read
the meditation at the station, the weight of the inevitable event rested heavy
on our hearts, station one, two, three four, five, six, seven and eight were
read by others, my turn was next.
I was handed the book of meditations,
I looked at the station name:
“Jesus
Falls the Third Time”. We are almost in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher; we
are just outside of it. The rain had stopped, the cobble stones are shiny with
the damp, still puddily in places; this is the final station of our outside
walk. The rest are inside the church, a very holy and solemn space, indeed.
This ninth station marks the spot where Jesus will leave the city walls and
enter into the space of his final suffering and death. This is the spot where
he can see the end that awaits him, where we can imagine his exhaustion mixed
with pain; where his walk will end; this is where his death begins.
Inside
the church we will encounter the place of the crucifixion; see the slab where
his body was laid, and the tomb in which he was laid and from which he rose
again. But right now, at the ninth station, the apex of our journey on that
day, all we see is his suffering and falling and agony; all that was for us.
Today
in our own varied spaces, we are sharing in this the final walk of Jesus, the
end of his life’s pilgrim’s walk on earth. Our pilgrim walk will continue anew following
in his footsteps, and we will be renewed by his suffering and death as we await
the glory of Easter.
Let
us Pray: (Adapted from the prayer offered by our
our Holy Land Tour Guide Peter Sabella)
O Lord Jesus Christ, you simply said two words to
the Apostle Peter, and he left everything behind him and followed you. From the
very beginning he was open to the possibility of having his identity and faith
challenged. We too, O Lord want to follow you. We are also open to the
possibility of having our identity and faith perceptions challenged. We have
come to seek you. We want to walk with you, see you and hear your voice like
the other disciples did. We surrender ourselves to you.
Write your Gospel in our hearts, open our minds to
receive your grace. Help us gain a new insight into our true self.…Teach us the
way to embrace our brothers and sisters… with love, as you have embraced your
cross with love. Amen
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