It's Good Friday today, the day to commerate the sacrificial death of Christ Jesus 2000 years ago. Strangely it is no more a public holiday in California where I live now. I was born and raised in a Buddhist country, and in a Hindu neighborhood until my fortieth birthday, and never was Good Friday a working day in that part of the world.
I remember well, one Good Friday afternoon, my friend Selvi and I, both around seven to nine years in age, sitting on our neighbor's front verandah steps and talking and weeping over Christ's death on the cross. Probably that was the first day, both of us must have heard at Sunday School about Jesus' death. We were not old enough and clever enough to understand what Christ's death on Calvary truly meant to us personally. But somehow in our young minds,the gruesome death of Jesus, whom, we, lovingly addressed Yesu Pappa, instilled pain and sorrow to bring tears.
In my teen years, I used to give up eating meat or fish during lenten days and remained a vegetarian. On Good Fridays, I used to fast the whole day with no food or water until I return attending the Good Friday service late in the evening. Since Jesus hung on the cross for three hours (according to the scripture from the sixth hour to the ninth hour) our Good Friday service usually went up to three hours from 3:00pm to 6:00 pm; no one complained about the length of time they had to sit on those hard wooden straight back benches. I loved listening to the sweet nightigale voiced Sakuntala singing solo during prayer time, bringing a holy and stillness to the place.
Oh, what a time of reverence and contemplation those hours seemed to be, even though the people gathered inside that simple country church were neither rich nor large in number. The pastor, clad in a long white cassock with a brown belt around his waist wouldn't have expected to count much money from the collection plate on that day or any other day. Yet, he looked happy and contented with him living with his family in the small parsonage with leaky roof, and owning a rickety old bicycle to make house visits to his members.
I may not have grown up with much doctrinal teaching in the home church I grew up, but I surely had a firm foundation to love the Lord and to revere Him at all cost. The church I attended was built by an American missionary in the early 1900, and to this day,people are gathering there to worship on Sundays despite the on going civil unrest. Yes, the church building had undergone some damages during artillery shelling in the recent past, but gladly it is still standing erect, maybe not to its' earlier glamor I've known, but a symbol of refuge for believers to gather weekly to worship and be relieved from external pressure.
I'm so thankful some missionories chose to come to a small island like my country in those days to spread the Good News. Because they came and built churches, hospitals and schools, I, along with many others had the opportunity of reaping the benefits. It's in one of the Mission built girls' school, my grand mother and her sister came to hear about Jesus and decided to become Christians. Because my grand mother stood firm in her faith and insisted on marrying a Christian man, I was blessed have a godly mother, and my children are blessed to have a Christian upbringing.
Since it's a working day today here in San Diego, we will be attending the Good Friday service at 6:30 pm with my husband and daughter. I haven't fasted today as I used to do many years back. But that doesn't deflect my faith or reverence for this day. As I age and my hair turning fully gray, I find it hard to go on a fast.
Only yesterday ,a friend of mine dropped in to see me in the evening around 5:30 pm. The beef stew I made was still on the stove and I asked her whether she'd like to have a bowl of stew. She looked tired after working the whole day as doctor in the neonatal clinic in a nearby hospital. But she declined my offer with a smile telling, she's fasting during these lenten days till 6:00 pm and thereby she couldn't have my stew. But agreed to have a cup of coffee instead. I couldn't fathom how she could go without food for the whole day and manage to do her ward rounds and other duties as a doctor for forty days. Faith, determination and discipline may be her keys to take that decision. I admire her for who she is and what she represents and I'm so glad that God has brought her into my life to fellowship, share and grow in my faith.
Even though, fasting or not fasting do not define our faith, it is good to fast and pray whenever we can. Jesus did fast and pray. I didnot choose to fast and pray on this Good Friday day. But that doesn't make me a less Christian. Since I haven't yet seen the movie Passion of Christ, I thought of watching that this afternoon before I get ready to go to church this evening. I have been putting off watching the movie because I didn't know whether I could bear to see the torture and suffering of Christ in the film. Good Friday may be a good day to watch such a movie to remind me what my Lord had suffered on fateful Friday two thousand years ago for the sake of me and you.
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