Good Friday

Mark 14: 66-72
Philippians 2: 5-11

66While Peter was below in the courtyard, one of the servant-girls of the high priest came by. 67When she saw Peter warming himself, she stared at him and said, “You also were with Jesus, the man from Nazareth.” 68But he denied it, saying, “I do not know or understand what you are talking about.” And he went out into the forecourt. Then the cock crowed.

During the past week while cavorting with my precious daughter through the North Georgia mountains, we came across a most delightful German bakery for lunch. True to its ethnic heritage the bakery had rows of hot crossed buns, various pretzels, some savory and others sweet reminding visitors of Holy Week traditions. I was preoccupied by the display of wondrous baked goods and looked at each and remembered the meaning of various shapes and flavors. They all remind us of the bittersweet days of Holy Week. My gaze at the beautiful glass case containing these goodies was interrupted by a conversation behind the counter. It is so true what Soren Kirkegaard (1813-55) the Danish theologian/philosopher said about conversations overheard. I'm paraphrasing, the conversations we most intently listen to are those we overhear. Two young bakery employees were talking. One of them gazing at the calendar on the wall asked, "what is Good Friday?" The other self-assured responded, "well, that is something Catholics do." Keeping my eyes fixed on the raspberry linzer torte surrounded with lace doilies, I struggled with keeping my mouth shut. The initial questioner then said, "Well, I guess it doesn't matter, I don't get that day off anyway." My politeness gave way to an admission that I was listening to their conversation and I knew that I had no intention of buying a linzer torte. I looked up, fixed my eyes on the young face and said, "that is the day Jesus Christ was executed, murdered, crucified." Silently, I thanked God that I didn't look like a clergyman, or at least I don't think she clocked me as one of them. Dressed in stressed jeans, muddy boots, polo short and a rain jacket I smiled as if I wasn't meaning to correct anyone and asked about ordering a hot crossed bun with my hot tea. I didn't say another word. The young clerk looked at me and furrowed her brow and said, "oh yeah, that makes sense." The other customers in the small shop identified me as "one who knows." Some sheepishly smiled at me claiming me, while others kept a painfully polite non-committal. God knows I hate religious types talking down to me, but I wanted these young clerks to know it wasn't solely a Catholic thing, it was a Christian thing...it was a human thing. I am not sure I accomplished my goal. When I got to our table I asked Jordan my daughter, if I came off condescending. Softly she smiled and said, "no, you came off as a dad who was interested in what they were saying." I hope so. Jordan and I walked out of the bakery with a warm smile and thank you. Under my breath I said,"Spirit of God, please move me out of the way and do your work." As the hymn in Philippians reads, Have this mind among yourselves: God emptied God's being taking on the form of a servant. Being born in the likeness of humanity... (paraphrased) . -- TMM