Our church has a Tenebrae service on Good Friday every year. It's quietly dramatic. There are about fifteen readings telling the story of Jesus' last day: The prayers in the garden, the betrayal, the beatings, and the final hours. As each passage is read, a candle is extinguished and the lights dim.
At the final reading, when Jesus is laid in a borrowed tomb, the final lights go out, and in the darkness, a door slams.
And from high in the church balcony, an a capella voice begins:
"Were you there when they crucified my Lord?...."
Were You There
When it is over, a few lights go on and people leave in silence. They frequently leave in tears.
It is one of my favorite services. It touches deep to the heart of the meaning of Good Friday.
Last year Babygirl and I spent Good Friday in the hospital. It doesn't seem like much of a holiday to some people, but, you see, I'm the person who makes everybody cry, singing from the balcony. And last year, I sang only for Babygirl, from the side of her bed, in the dark. And it made ME cry.
This year was definitely better.