Tenebrae
Tenebrae
at noontide, in an unfamiliar church
I sat in polished wooden pews, beneath smooth arches
tiny colored lights dancing through window pictures
amber glow of candles
beneath the cross.
I listened for God
as readers shared the holy scriptures
piece by piece, the stories to remind us of that Friday so long ago.
I listened for God
in the hymns we sang
still so familiar to my tongue
which once recited the words, caressed the Truth, tasted
His presence.
I have not heard God
since those golden days when we
were a thrown-together family in His name.
Remember how we gathered, holding hands, sharing spirits?
Remember how we preached
to each other
knew
the importance of
loving our neighbor as we loved ourselves
clothing the naked, feeding the hungry
shining lights, a beacon on a hill, the salt of the earth?
You knew.
You knew, all of you.
Yet you did nothing.
When I was always smiling
doors open for group socials and happy games
you were there (and so was God).
When I stood certain, a rock in my faith, inner light
glowing like a Good Friday candelabra, shining bright
you were there (and so was God).
I saw you all around me
and heard God
felt God
in the old hymns, in the new songs.
We clapped our hands
held each others’ babies as we prayed together
our own private city, Christian club
example to the world
of forgiveness
of love.
But when times
grew heavy, when I could
no longer carry my own load, back breaking
drowning in a salt water sea, I lifted my hands out
to you, to all of you.
Remember
my cries? Help me! I can’t…
Remember my long, gray silence
as my candles were snuffed out, one by one?
I curled there in that tomb, searching my way out of darkness
grasping like the blind at every flicker of light.
Where were you then, brothers
and sisters?
You were in your homes
raising your children, clocking in
walking dogs, sharing recipes, happy online photos.
I saw it all from a distance
like staring through
a locked window.
Where were you, brothers and sisters?
You,
the medicine for my pain,
stayed far away, like suffering was contagious
like my crumbling life was too much
for your pampered
sensibilities.
You,
fellow followers of Christ
were too busy on your knees, absorbed
in prayer, consumed with your own Quiet Times
wrapped in your hectic schedules of church, and small groups, and
planned events.
My life was messy, in those days.
I did not fit into
your lives.
But I was among the naked, in need of clothes.
and I was the hungry
and I was the sick
and the thirsty
and the cold.
The hurting person on the side of the road
as you traveled home to Samaria.
I was lost
I was in darkness
So
WHERE WERE YOU?
If I were Martin Luther
I would nail these angry words on your doors,
oh church
for your corrupt culture
your holy huddles, worshipping at the altars
of political outrage, of perfect families, of appearances
instead of following the most important
of all the commandments –
to love.
I did not hear God today
as the Tenebrae candles were snuffed
one by one.
Too filled with corked up emotions
released as I reflected on
what it’s all supposed
to mean
but does not.
My faith was a rock
chipped away by too many
years of solitude, apart from those
who once claimed to be
One.
I never cry out anymore.
