Good Friday

I never realized the stock markets closed on Good Friday until today. The disillusioned crowd still hushes to watch what they demanded for without ever realizing---the death of innocence. I’ve always had a hard time wrapping my head around this weekend --pressure wells up to feel a certain way and say the things I should. What is so Good about this Friday, anyways? I suppose we have the full story --that Sunday is coming. I know, I know. •

But I need a little more time. This is moving too fast. The boisterous crowd surrounds me cheering for the execution of my friend. My friend that invited me into rooms I should have never been allowed. Who held my hand while others whispered in disgust. Who told me I, woman, am good. My friend is dying. •

So, for today, I think I’ll just follow behind the cross with the rest of the women weeping. (vs 27). Not that we are any better than the rest of the crowd really..those who see a Savior simply know they need saving. Today, I think I need one. •

Jesus turns to us -hearing our cries- and tells us not so good news. (vs. 28) That it gets worse before it gets better. I weep more and lean on my sister. We can’t see since we have to walk in the back. But, through the dust on the road I see the cross and follow. We stand at a distance and watch Jesus declared innocent as he breathes his last breath. The rowdy crowd is now silent. They run away in shame for what they have done. But, I stand on the side of the hill with the other women. We don’t look away from his body. Our eyes watch his lungs deflate and his face turn downward. We watch the death that is taking over. We stay until it is finished. (vs. 49) •

When his body is taken away, we will follow to see where he is placed. We will go to our homes and scour our cupboards for spices and ointments. Anything to bring dignity to this crime. But, the sun goes down faster than we hoped for. And not even God himself stops the Sabbath. (vs. 56) The crowds have gone. It’s just me. Alone in my home with oil in my cupboard that I long to bring to a grave. But, I’ll just have to wait here asking if any of this...actually..really could be true.

Gabrielle M. Engle