The Moon and the Stars

11 Apr

It seems like it always rains on Good Friday. One of these days I’m going to start documenting it to see if my theory proves correct. 

The rain began this morning, as predicted. It came off and on throughout the day and just now, driving home from a church service, the rain came again – this time hard. I could be completely full of b.s., but I think God arranges stormy weather to communicate the very somber occasion of Jesus’ death through the mysterious force of Nature.

I love rain. Most of the time I find it romantic or cozy. Rarely depressing. But on Good Friday, the weather elicits a more melancholy feeling within me. Even when I didn’t really have a relationship with Christ or call myself a Christian (other than by proxy of my Catholic upbringing), I remember one particularly dark and rainy Good Friday when I lived in New York City. I tended to pop into churches when living there because they were a nice respite from the traffic and chaos of the street. Well, on this one Good Friday, I found myself sitting in a near empty church feeling deeply, deeply sad. I had subconsciously tapped into the seriousness of the day. 

I’ve been dodging this Good Friday thing for many years now. One time, I experienced a flash of images and feelings as if I had literarily been at the Crucifixion. And I thought, “No wonder I’m not so into this Christianity thing. I can’t deal with the pain of mobs killing anyone, let alone Jesus.” But oddly, it created an opening to be more receptive to Christianity after a number of years of rejecting it on some level. 

I remember when I was little hearing the Priest in church say, “Lamb of God, you take away the sins of the World. Have mercy on us.” I didn’t have a clue what these words meant. And I’m only just beginning to. 

The pastor this evening said, “Words will fail you,” in regards to being able to verbalize about Christ’s Crucifixion. I agree. All week, I’ve been silent. But the rain howls and speaks for me.

Jesus apparently hung out with thieves and whores. I find these two representatives of society of particular interest for who of us hasn’t taken or been taken from? Who of us hasn’t been used or used others? Victim or perpetrator, the Crucifixion can take it away. But there is no way to explain this intellectually. Like art or love or sexuality, it’s mysterious. Intangible. Remarkable. 

There is a song we sing at church that I love where the lyrics go, “The moon and the stars, declare who you are.”

Rain. Sun. Moon. Stars. I leave it to nature to speak of the mysteries of God.

2 Responses to “The Moon and the Stars”

  1. bub April 11, 2009 at 7:50 pm #

    Yeah, the song is “Cannons” by Phil Wickham. I love that one myself. We’ve been singing and playing it around the house this week. Which Friday service did you go to? I was at the 5:30pm. Awesome, powerful service. Ed was right, it is hard to wrap our minds around the whole idea. Hearing everyone hammer their sins to the crosses sure hit home though.

  2. lisesletters April 11, 2009 at 8:11 pm #

    I was at the 7:00 service and there was this moment where the music stopped but you could still hear people hammering. Without the music to mask the sound, it was really haunting. I wanted to credit that song’s artist but didn’t know who wrote/performed it. Thanks. I see you have some new posts on your blog; awesome.

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