“Today millions of christians around the world are celebrating Good Friday,” Pastor Garrett Booth declared from a raised stage in a massive, stadium-like church. “People may be wondering why this is ‘Good’ Friday. It is good for us because Jesus faced the worst day of His life when he died on the cross.” He paused, gesturing toward the massive Smart Cross (a digital photo placed over a blank, cross-shaped surface). The wood pixels looked so clear that you could see the contrasting grooves.
“Jesus died because all of us have done bad things, and He was the sacrifice for us. His blood can make us clean. It can also heal us.”
I sat toward the back, my first time in this church, surrounded by strangers. I had finally returned to America after five years of teaching English in Russia, Turkey, and China. I landed in California but stayed only a few weeks. Things didn’t go so well with my young adult children, and prices had risen too high. So I headed for Houston, struggled with its higher-than-expected cost of living, but finally found a job teaching ESL at a local college. Grace community church actually helped me stay in a local motel for a week, showing christian generosity without asking a hundred questions. I figured the least I could do was check out their services, so I found myself in their giant sanctuary on Good Friday evening, the day Christians around the world celebrate Christ’s death for all people.
As a Messianic Jew, I was thinking of Passover. I had celebrated many Passovers in California, some at Shiloh Messianic Congregation of San Bernardino County. One reason why I left California and have not written anything until now is that I still feel a sense of silent grief that Nick Thalasinos was the primary target for the terrorist shooters who killed him and 13 other people during a San Bernardino County Christmas party. I wrote a series of 4 articles about that event, including 2 interviews with his widow Jennifer, who got to meet President Obama and First Lady Michelle even as she said goodbye to her one true love. It was a sad way for San Bernardino (and Jennifer) to be added to the world map along with Paris, Istanbul, and, most recently, Brussels. What’s happening in the world?
Pastor Booth brought the Old Testament into Good Friday by mentioning Moses who led the people of Isreal out of Egypt after the amazing events of Passover. I thought about the Messianic symbolism in Passover, and how it even points to a hopeful new life like a resurrection.
I fingered the little silver Star of David I wear on a chain around my neck along with a silver cross and crystal pendant. When I first started teaching in Houston, I took my Star of David off the chain, thinking I might offend the muslim students here. But then I put it back on, realizing that I come from generations of Americans (including British, Dutch, Cherokee and Jews). My grandfather graduated from Yale University and taught at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, which ironically saw violence against muslim students last year. It was a muslim extremist who shot Nick. He worked with Nick, their desks almost touching as they discussed Israel and christians. Nick wore his Star of David tie pin to work everyday. He died wearing it. How could I be less brave in a world that sees increasing antisemitism and anti-christian violent acts?
“The children of Israel were wondering in the desert, hot and thirsty,” Pastor Booth continued. “When they finally found water, it was bitter, poisonous. The people complained. Then God told Moses to throw a tree into the water, and that tree sweetened the water so that the Israelites could drink. Jesus died on a tree, a cross. Come to the cross now, partake of the blood and body of Christ in this Communion up here at the table—in the form of matzo bread and little cups of juice. Ask Jesus to turn the bitterness in your life sweet.”
After Communion, I heard another newcomer remark,
“That was a good service, short and sweet.” I thought of the coming week of teaching both day and evening classes, of still having to find an apartment and scrambling to deal with getting paid just once a month. “Yes, sweet,” I replied, thinking of silly chocolate Easter bunnies and yellow candy eggs that somehow point toward resurrection. Maybe things will get a little better for us all in the spring.
