Stationed in Kairos

I had the opportunity to walk the Stations of the Cross for the first time on this Good Friday. From the earliest of times pilgrims have wanted to walk where Jesus walked to help connect more closely to the Passion. As it became more difficult to travel to Jerusalem, the walk was recreated as shrines using artwork and liturgy throughout Europe in the 1500’s and eventually spread worldwide. There are fourteen “stations” that depict different scenes along the route starting with Jesus being condemned to die and progressing until the last scene of Jesus being laid in the tomb. Today we physically walked as a united band of pilgrims within the sanctuary of the Episcopal Church. At each plaque there was a reading offered and a prayer followed by a simple song as we journeyed to the next scene. Often I was a bit distracted considering how this same experience could be transposed to our own congregation. This is just the sort of thing I can spend hours investigating on the web as I initially did trying to find churches that offered Good Friday services. I thought it was a bit odd that all of the Catholic churches began their Stations of the Cross promptly at 3pm. My fellow learned pilgrim was sure the reason had something to do with the time of Jesus’ death. According to the Gospel of Mark, Jesus was crucified at 9am, darkness fell at noon, and at 3pm he died. Ouch, my head is starting to hurt again. Wasn’t this just what our Associate Pastor shared during last night’s service? Chronos vs. Kairos. Clock-time vs. Soul-Time. There are churches that will hold vigil through Saturday midnight for Easter’s first light. Yes, we’re quite proud of our ability to transform unwieldy mystery into neat hospital-bed folds of facts and explanations with our planning and interpretation. Why we’re even able to parse down the text into Twitter feed as a Good Friday practice. Perhaps soon enough we’ll be able to jump to the end of the story and bypass Good Friday all together.

My prayer for the congregation?

Ah, Holy Jesus, Who brought this upon You? We dare to walk in the roads you traveled; we dare to sing of Your lonesome walk; we dare to sit in draped chapels, but do we dare to drink Your cup? Help us to find ways to harness the majestic story into words and images that we can readily understand, but not be so bold as to think we could author such a royal narrative. It is a delicate balance of accusation, sorrow, dismay, disbelief, grief, promise and hope. We anticipate Your joyful victory but must first spend time examining the slow, deliberate steps that deliver the cross. Amen

2 Who was the guilty? Who brought this upon You?
It is my treason, Lord, that has undone You.
’Twas I, Lord Jesus, I it was denied You;
I crucified You.

5 Therefore, dear Jesus, since I cannot pay You,
I do adore You, and will ever praise You,
Think on Your pity and Your love unswerving,
Not my deserving.
“Ah, Holy Jesus”