Not my own, but His

He was pierced for our transgressions,
he was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was on him,
and by his wounds we are healed.
We all, like sheep, have gone astray,
each of us has turned to our own way;
and the Lord has laid on him
the iniquity of us all.

— Isaiah 53:5-6

It is Good Friday, the day the Lord laid down his life for the atonement of all people. It is a day we lower ourselves, to remember his suffering and give thanks for the gift we cannot pay Him back for. How can we partake in the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings if we will never endure the pain of the cross? How can we escape the worldly sorrow that brings death, but learn the godly sorrow that brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret? This earnestness, this eagerness to clear myself, this indignation, this alarm, this longing, this concern, this readiness to see justice done – it fills me!

In the morning, we sing at the Laurels of Forest Glenn, a nursing & rehabilitation center. I talk to a man called Frankie, who is going on 100 years old. He tells me about his wife and five children: his oldest son Dean, his oldest daughter Brenda, who both live in upstate New York where they grew up. He didn’t tell me the names of his other children. He told me about his wife, whom he had met in high school and had been married to for 75 years. The staff caretakers had taken her away for some reason or another, and now he didn’t know where she was. He missed her a lot, and because of it was very lonely. Upon saying this, he began to shed tears. I went around and met a few other patients of varying levels of talkativity.


“I talked to one lady – she responded in body language but she didn’t say anything. We talked about family. Afterwards, I prayed for her and her family.” – Barry


“Gail beckoned me over, and then she started crying. She was very cute, I loved her.” – Alex


Back at home, we had a lunch of Japanese curry, cooked by Jessica, Michaye, and Matthew. Various people spent the afternoon doing various things for free time; I played a few games of Bang! with Matthew, Yeye, and Dongho, and John’s little brothers; Craig and John went to Catholic Good Friday service; Michaye worked on her science fiction short stories. Helen worked on 2.002, how exciting.

In the evening, we attended Good Friday service at Christ the King Lutheran Church in Cary, NC on the outskirts of Raleigh. The church lies on the intersection of Walnut and Walnut; yes, two streets perpendicular to each other that are called the same name. Mike, the church’s kind “Minister of Music,” tells us that when Cary was growing as a city, they wanted to rename the main road from “Walnut” to “Cary Towne Boulevard,” and move the name “Walnut” to a perpendicular side road instead. However, residents didn’t want to give up their “Walnut” home addresses – so, the city kept part of the main road named “Walnut,” and named the perpendicular side road “Walnut” as well. Now – an unnecessary abundance of Walnuts.


aww, how adorbs. eating Jersey Mike’s for dinner, kindly provided by Mike. :3

I wonder about rituals. We know that Christ laid his life down for us; his sacrifice is what has saved us, once and for all. No ritual, no baptism, no communion, no good works are enough justification; Christ’s life is the only justification. So, what is the purpose of ritual?


what a beautiful church, a beautiful sanctuary, a beautiful fusion between the MIT Chapel and Kresge. (says Helen.)

Good Friday service was accompanied by hymns sung in unison by the entire congregation. Beautiful, solemn hymns; all rhyming in pattern, equal numbers of syllables to a verse, three verses or more. Seven candles stand upon the altar; in between hymns, a young acolyte snuffs them out one by one using a long instrument with a bell-shaped object at the end. When there are three candles left, the main lights in the sanctuary are also extinguished. The last three hymns are sung in the dark; gradually, the last of the light fades away as Christ enters the depths of the earth. Beautiful, solemn remembrance. Beautiful. My heart is stilled. My pitiful human heart, a heart so quickly stilled by solemn ritual. May we grow in our understanding of the love the Lord has shown us, that goes so much further than even the most beautiful, solemn, ritual!

<3,
Erica

We all, like sheep, have gone astray,
each of us has turned to our own way;
and the Lord has laid on him
the iniquity of us all.