Good Friday, 2011

O sacred Head, now wounded, with grief and shame weighed down,
Now scornfully surrounded with thorns, Thine only crown;
O sacred Head, what glory, what bliss till now was Thine!
Yet, though despised and gory, I joy to call Thee mine.

What Thou, my Lord, hast suffered, was all for sinners’ gain;
Mine, mine was the transgression, but Thine the deadly pain.
Lo, here I fall, my Savior! ’Tis I deserve Thy place;
Look on me with Thy favor, vouchsafe to me Thy grace.

Men mock and taunt and jeer Thee, Thou noble countenance,
Though mighty worlds shall fear Thee and flee before Thy glance.
How art thou pale with anguish, with sore abuse and scorn!
How doth Thy visage languish that once was bright as morn!

Now from Thy cheeks has vanished their color once so fair;
From Thy red lips is banished the splendor that was there.
Grim death, with cruel rigor, hath robbed Thee of Thy life;
Thus Thou hast lost Thy vigor, Thy strength in this sad strife.

My burden in Thy Passion, Lord, Thou hast borne for me,
For it was my transgression which brought this woe on Thee.
I cast me down before Thee, wrath were my rightful lot;
Have mercy, I implore Thee; Redeemer, spurn me not!

What language shall I borrow to thank Thee, dearest friend,
For this Thy dying sorrow, Thy pity without end?
O make me Thine forever, and should I fainting be,
Lord, let me never, never outlive my love to Thee.

 Bernard of Clairvaux

Good Friday musing . . .

Today is, of course, Good Friday. The music running through my head includes songs like “O Sacred Head, now wounded . . . “ Last night at St. Peter's Maunday Thursday service, BH preached briefly about all the losses Jesus suffered -- family, friends, freedom, health, dignity -- and how He endured those losses for us. It was a short, simple, profound meditation, and I've been reflecting on it all morning. As I think about everything Jesus lost -- willingly -- tears come to my eyes.
It's raining outside this morning, a chilly rain. The grey morning matches my mood, and yet, to borrow a phrase, “It's Friday now, but Sunday's coming!”
A few years ago, my dad died rather unexpectedly. His birthday that year -- his 70th -- would have been the day before Easter. I wrote a column for Hearts at Home that ran in the Pantagraph about how Jesus's resurrection changed the way we remembered and celebrated my dad's life.
How has Jesus's resurrection changed things for you?