in my end is my beginning
I love our Good Friday service. We gather in the church, which grows darker and darker as the minutes pass. There is a sermon, and there is darkness, and the church's decorations are stripped, and someone sings "Were You There?" When that ends, we leave, in silence, each dropping the nails we have been carrying all week into a bucket. The clinks of nail after nail after nail ring through the silence and the darkness, reminding us of Christ's great sacrifice.
I love this service. I missed it last year, because I was in the Congo. This year I can't attend, because the governor hasn't released us from classes and the professor who is my teaching supervisor says I have to teach. So I won't hear those nails again this year. Not out loud, anyway. I will hear them in my heart. I will mourn, and I will be thankful for the darkness and the silence that leads to dawn. As Eliot said, "the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting." Amen.