Good Friday

Having just returned from another powerful experience that I'd like to share with you, I first offer this caveat: I have three sublime teachers that I work with. The first is my minister, the pastor at my church. He brought me into the fold by helping me understand things that I had been asking, and presented theological implications (historical, etc) that quelled numerous misgivings about a church being capable of (and culpable for) providing some of what I crave. The second is a man who was recommended to me by my doctor, my doctor who is also a family friend and confidant. I've worked with him for almost two years now. He is primarially theosophical, although delves effortlessly into Eastern mysticism and Christian banter as well. The third is counted among my dearest of friends, extraordinarially trustworthy and kind of heart, and he is an ordained Gnostic minister. Having studied various sects of Buddhism years ago, and having read (not entirely, mind) the Qu'ran, and having a perfunctory knowledge of other religions and mysticism from years of curiosity and hunger, I have come to Jesus (the Christ) as my primary teacher. With all respect and adoration of all religions and spiritual paths (and I will restrain from my strong desire to expound on the whys of that for now), I've never in 36 years been consistently moved to tears, day after day, read after read, than with the profound understandings that I glean from the copious gospel ("good news") volumes attributed to the expressions and history of Jesus. The gnostic history, which I've been consuming like cold water on a hot day, has helped ameliorate any misgivings I've had within myself about the four 'chosen' gospels and the human Truth (as far as what feels right to me, right now, in my limited understanding) of Jesus as the Christ, and so on and on and on I could go but I want to get to the sharing so I'll stop!
I was ruminating on the significance of the pendulous, ruddy moon tonight. I was on my way home, over the mountain, from a somber service at my church (which, by the way, is progressive Presbyterian). We, the choir in this case, performed a remarkable song, Tchaikovski's When We Behold Thy Bleeding Wounds, which sets the tone appropriately I suppose. At any rate, the service, of which no more than 8 or so people attended (ours is a very small church) was really quite remarkable. One line that stuck out immediately was in an Affirmation of Faith reading, stating, "The world exhausts its rage on the body of Jesus Christ." That's pretty hardcore. I mean, that's the pivotal part of being considered a Christian, I think.

Okay, I was about to launch into another littany, but I still haven't gotten to the sharing thing.
Let's see, the choir, the moon.....oh yeah. Here we go.
Regardless of what you might consider Jesus, the man from Nazareth, voluminous history shows that he at least existed, and that he at least went through some pretty horriffic, crazy shit. Even agnostic scholars will concede that much. So given that, and to take all that on a strictly human level, what strikes me most is that Jesus had the conviction to believe that he was doing this all for us. You. And me. It matters not a mote what the Truth is in the light of the fact that he was tortured and killed because he loves us.
And while on the human level in this discussion, here's what I'd like to share, as it's what the moon in all her glory was reminding me of tonight on the way home through the woods, in the silence and darkness of night.
It's a reading from the service, this Good Friday service, the night to commemorate the evening when Jesus gave his spirit over to our Mother/Father. It is regarding Mary, his mother.

Even Now

She stands
beneath his dying
and will not be persuaded to leave,
despite the urging of the others.
They huddle against her
in an effort to hold her
against the pain,
but she stands erect,
unleaning,
her eyes fixed upon his face.
From the hillside
the sounds of weeping and wailing
hang heavy in the air,
but she who held him
in a stable in Bethlehem
stands silent
beneath his cross in Jerusalem,
her heart pondering still,
her soul magnifying the Lord,
her spirit praising God,
knowing even now
that she is blessed among women.

from Kneeling in Jerusalem by Ann Weems

There is so much I wish to share with you, but you are on your Divine path, and I mine. We'll meet when we're One again, and that'll be just fine.
Have a wonderful Easter weekend.
Remember that even if you turn away, it's no matter. You're still loved and held dearly in the heart of the Universe.
Peace be with you.