“And a Good Friday Was Had by All”
Reflections
“A few years ago I walked a set of The Stations of the Cross that had been erected in a farm paddock in the Hunter Valley. The day on which we walked it was hot, dry and dusty. Many of the participants were quite elderly; some were very unsteady on their feet…one of the participants stumbled and fell,” says The Very Rev’d Dr Peter Catt
You men there, keep those women back
and God Almighty he laid down
on the crossed timber and old Silenus
my offsider looked at me as if to say
nice work for soldiers, your mind’s not
your own
once you sign that dotted line Ave
Caesar
and all that malarkey Imperator Rex
well this Nazarene
didn’t make it any easier
really-not like the ones
who kick up a fuss so you can
do your block and take it out on them
Silenus
held the spikes steady and I let fly
with the sledge-hammer, not looking
on the downswing trying hard not to hear
over the women’s wailing the bones give way
the iron shocking the dumb wood.
Orders is orders, I said after it was over
nothing personal you understand – we had a
drill-sergeant once thought he was God but he wasn’t
a patch on you
then we hauled on the ropes
and he rose in the hot air
like a diver just leaving the springboard, arms spread
so it seemed
over the whole damned creation
over the big men who must have had it in for him
and the curious ones who’ll watch anything if it’s free
with only the usual women caring anywhere
and a blind man in tears.
Bruce Dawe, “And a Good Friday Was Had by All”
A few years ago I walked a set of The Stations of the Cross that had been erected in a farm paddock in the Hunter Valley. The day on which we walked it was hot, dry and dusty. Many of the participants were quite elderly; some were very unsteady on their feet.
As the path trekked across the paddock it ascended a small hill. Somewhere around about the fourth or fifth Station, as we climbed that hill, one of the participants stumbled and fell. Several of us stopped to render assistance and then sat with the person while their spouse went to get the car to drive them home.
Meanwhile the main group continued walking the Stations, reflecting on Jesus’ journey towards the cross, his falls, his encounters with Veronica, Simon of Cyrene, and so on.
Once the fallen participant had been safely placed in the car, those of us who had waited with them hurried to catch up with the main group of pilgrims and so the journey continued.
Later in the day as I reflected on the happenings of the day, I realised that our experience would have mirrored the experience of those present in Jerusalem on that first Good Friday.
The Via Dolorosa (The way of Sorrows) in Jerusalem, which is traditionally held to be the way Jesus walked while carrying the cross, winds its way through the busy streets of the city; streets crowded with people shopping and filled with the cries of vendors.
Jesus carrying his cross would have been part of a chaotic mix of humanity. Many would have hardly noticed the pathetic figure trudging past — crucifixions were common — as they tried to push through the crowd to do their business. Others would have been annoyed that the usually frenzied streets were further clogged by this criminal on the way to execution. The occasional one, one who was a bit more attentive to the politics of being a subjugated people, might have stopped to ponder the plight of this latest victim of Rome’s methodical cruelty.
On the day we walked the Stations in the paddock in the Hunter several of us were distracted by life events from attending to the story of Jesus. On the day of his execution many thousands along the Via Dolorosa were also distracted by life from attending to the lone figure whose life, death and resurrected life would go to change the course of history.
Life can distract us from attending to significant happenings around us.
One of the roles that liturgy, the worship services we attend, plays is to help us to learn how to attend more effectively to those things that really do need attention. They take us out of the busy round of life and equip us with refreshed eyes and ears so that when we re-enter daily life we can be more attentive to the things that our busyness would have us not notice.
In the poem, “A Good Friday was had by All”, Bruce Dawe captures something of that dynamic. The soldier narrator speaks of the mundane mechanics of crucifixion, but looking through those details sees some hint of the fact that this Nazarene is somehow different. He sees something that many on the street would have missed.
My fervent hope is that the liturgies of this Holy Week will equip each one of us to better see that which needs to be seen in our world today.
First published in the Precinct eNews on 25 March 2024.
Jump to next article
