Good Friday: Maybe He'll Stay Down This Time

As a rosy-cheeked Luteran choirboy, I relied upon the rerun that was Christ's resurrection to ensure that my role as Jesus in the Good Friday choral service was locked down for at least another year. I was, after all, the only male under forty in the church choir. There I'd be, cooing from the loft like a castrato, literally bringing the congregation to tears with "Eli, Eli Lama Sabachtani" and "Come, Soothing Death".

Good Friday is the most emotional of all Lutheran holidays. Sure, Christ's birth at Christmas is a good thing and all, but let's face it--he's going to die eventually so let's not get too excited. Easter Sunday is a happy day, sure, we'll give you that--I mean, we've triumphed over death and all that, but heck, we still have to go work the next day. In short, it's hard for Lutherans to be happy about very much of anything, because, well happiness makes you weak. Happy people freeze to death in the snowstorm before grim people, my mom was fond of saying before she sent me off to school in a pair of snowshoes. Being joyful makes us feel uncomfortable. We just don't think we're well-off enough in our station to actually enjoy anything. I mean, happiness is so decadent, so Catholic! We would never be caught dead speaking in tongues! What if the neighbors are watching? That's why Lent was such a comfort. We could give up the pleasures we didn't really want in the first place.

So Good Friday was a veritable Lutheran ho-down. Everyone's crying (quietly), letting just a little bit of emotion leak out for a change. The lights are down, the nave is dim, only the eternal flame flickers in its red sconce. Stoicism needs such dates programmed into the calendar. We could finally let out our weakness and despair in the ubi sunt of life.

No more church for me though--now I just wish he'd stay in that cave for once. Fat chance of that happening. I'm hitching a ride up to Duluth this afternoon for a couple days of cadbury cream eggs, peeps, jello deserts made with canned mandarin oranges and cool whip, potato salad, ham, and the inevitable hard-boiled egg farts.