Stations of the Cross

Easter Sunday is almost here. It is the culmination of Holy Week for Christians and the day of the year that fills church pews, brings out bonnets and chocolate bunnies and colorful spring flowers, organizes Easter egg hunts and feasts of food. But it is Good Friday which distinguishes itself in liturgy and worship. Good Friday is heavy. It’s solemn and mournful. In most Christian denominations, Good Friday services mean clergy and acolytes dressed in solid black vestments, plain wooden crosses, bare bones altars stripped of adornments, no uttered Hallelujahs or friendly glad-handing. Many people attend church to experience a day of joyful worship. Good Friday is not that day.

I’m aware that readers of this blog comprise various religious beliefs and lack of religious beliefs entirely. It’s all good. I would point out, however, that Good Friday presents timeless subjects that any thoughtful person might contemplate in their moments of deep reflection, awareness, and questioning; the execution of an innocent man, the corruption of political and religious authorities, the menace of a raging, bloodthirsty mob.

Good Friday service at my church, with our priest Father Laurence Byrne:

An integral part of Good Friday services is Stations of the Cross, in which worshippers follow Jesus’ harrowing path from his death decree ordered by Pontius Pilate, to his crucifixion, to his burial, and stop for prayer at each point. Churches display plaques, relief sculptures, paintings, crosses, or any artwork to mark each station. At my church, All Saints Episcopal Church in Queens, NY, our stations are marked by framed drawings created by our church’s children over the years. And they are superb. I thought I’d share some of them here for my Easter blog post. Sometimes I feel like I admire children’s artwork more than any Rembrandt or Degas.

I offer my warmest wishes for a blessed Easter, blessed Passover, and restorative spring season! May you all rejoice in new life, new birth, grace, and salvation.

Love one another …

Always,
Claudia