At the church where I grew up, they presented Easter in such a powerful manner, I am still moved by the impression it left. It was a contemporary building, a half circle of pews, facing the alter against a large brick wall. On Good Friday evening, you entered a darkened church....stripped of all ornament, the only light was shown on a large cross leaning against the alter, with the bottom extending into the center aisle past the first few rows of pews. You were given a nail as you silently took your seat. The readings were very powerful, and almost scary, as members of the congregation were given the task of shouting "crucify him". We were ushered up to the cross, kneeled to kiss it, and dropped our nail into a tin can. All you could hear was the shuffling of feet on the carpeted aisles and the clanking of the nails as they dropped in. I remember feeling sorrow and guilt that the people chose to put Jesus to death. Years later I learned that the crosses used at Easter were saved from the previous Christmas...branches cut off, and the tree formed into a cross, crudely tied with rope. Another powerful image.
Then, Sunday morning, dressed in our finest, we entered a brightly lit church. On the back wall behind the alter hung dozens of white and yellow banners. Potted lillies and daffodils piled EVERYWHERE. Bells were ringing and the trumpets sounded, truly exclaiming the good news, that Jesus had risen. I'll never forget that portrayal of JOY. To experience a somber Good Friday, followed by a rejoicing Sunday, is the Easter I carry in my heart.
Let those of us who celebrate Easter remember why we honor this holy day.
And if you get black jelly beans in your basket, save them for me. I love licorice.
