[Propertalk] Good Friday

Tue Apr 3 01:40:25 EDT 2012

Our deacon is preaching on Maundy Thursday. Here's my draft for Good 
Friday.

Blessings for the journey through Holy Week.

Bob

THE EPISCOPAL CHURCH OF ST. ALBAN, ALBANY  	         		 
GOOD FRIDAY - B
ISAIAH 52:13 – 53:12	                          		    	                	 
6th APRIL, 2012
HEBREWS 10:16-25	                                                	               		 
PSALM 22
JOHN 18:1 – 19:42

	The headline caught my eye because I’ve been to Philadelphia quite 
often now, and because my daughter worked in Center City next door to 
the University of the Arts for some years.

	The headline ran, “Work by formerly homeless artists on display at 
University of the Arts”, and the article beneath it told the story of 
Dennis Jones.

	“For the last five years, the Starbucks coffee shop on Broad Street has 
had its own artist-in-residence.

	“Dennis Jones parks himself in a window seat with his laptop and his 
brushes and paints all day, every day. He drinks a lot of coffee.” 1

	It’s always intriguing to read about a place where you’ve been. I can 
picture that Starbucks, and that window seat, as clear as day. I’ve been 
in and out of the place all the time. It’s a busy place, with people 
coming and going, and reading papers, and talking on their cell phones 
and, of course, drinking coffee and eating everything from oatmeal in 
the morning to a scone or a sandwich in the evening.

	Maybe that’s why I have to admit I never saw Dennis. Oh, I probably saw 
him. From the picture he’d be hard to miss. But you know how it is; you 
see something but it doesn’t really register with your brain. He’d 
simply be another person sitting in a cafe.

	But Kirsten knows him. She wrote, “He is pretty darn phenomenal, isn't 
he?! I know he's made my world a better place.”

	Apparently he’s received commissions for portraits and now he’s one of 
a few formerly homeless people whose work is being exhibited and lauded. 
The wonderful thing is that all the artists came through Broad Street 
Ministry, where Kirsten was on the staff. It’s a non-denominational 
“Christian church next door to the University of the Arts. The ministry 
offers a weekly art therapy program, where the mostly homeless clients 
participate in art projects, both individual and as a group.

	“Since January, several UArts students have been volunteering at those 
sessions.

	“‘We're still students learning from them,’ said Camille Sassano, a 
multi-disciplinary junior at UArts. ‘It's definitely a mutual 
relationship of conversations and sharing experiences. I feel like that 
is the more important part of this. The artwork is a catalyst to bring 
these people together.’

	“Many of the homeless artists hesitated to show their work publicly 
(aside from Jones, who conspicuously sits in the front window at 
Starbucks). Dwayne Grant agreed to participate in the show only after 
being prodded by students at the University.

	“‘I usually don't show people my stuff. I just don't,’ said Grant, a 
formerly homeless street photographer. ‘I might like them, but I don't 
feel they [are] good to be showing around.’

	“After years on the street, Grant now works as the facility manager at 
the Broad Street Ministry. Like most of the artists in the exhibition, 
Grant participated as a way to reverse the public stigma attached to 
homelessness.

	“‘As an amateur photographer to be asked in a show, it's an honor,’ 
said Grant. ‘I'm excited about that. Not in my wildest dreams did I ever 
think anybody would ask me that.’”

	I was struck by this on several levels. Firstly, I know the place, 
pretty well actually. Secondly, to find people who’ve struggled to find 
hope and to establish a place of acceptance in society is always 
uplifting. And thirdly, to see a teaching institution, and a religious 
institution, and the cultural community come together to bring colour 
and insight and a strong sense of joy in life is especially encouraging.

	This shows what can be accomplished, if we look; if we get involved; if 
we take risks and chances; if we’re willing to see the impossible in the 
midst of litter, and graffiti, and averted eyes.

	Picture Jesus on the cross outside the walls of Jerusalem. He was 
hanging in the most disreputable state, in plain public view, where 
people rushed past, or hurled insults, or rolled their eyes, and all 
that would have registered in their minds would have been that here was 
another disaster.

	Jesus didn’t see it that way, however. As we saw from the Gospel 
readings of the past few weeks, Jesus set His sights on going right to 
the heart of Jerusalem, when the tension was so high that anything out 
of the ordinary would have caused the soldiers to snap and the might of 
Rome crush down on whoever was foolish enough to get in the way. Jesus 
was intent on bringing redemption even from the hands of the might of 
the Empire.

	In a sermon in mid-March, Archbishop Rowan Williams talked about three 
points about the crucifixion. 2   Firstly, God is still God, even on the 
cross. From the most hopeless, most humiliating, most desperate 
situation, God was still in control. If the people around the cross had 
sufficiently supersensitive vision they might have seen God slowly 
transforming the world even from the cross.

	Secondly, those crosses that we’ve had veiled since the end of 
February: when they’re finally unveiled we’ll be struck once again by 
the horror of Jesus’ death. Sometimes we look at a cross – a nice 
ceramic one, something in polished hardwood, better yet, a silver 
crucifix on a fine chain around our neck – sometimes we look at a cross 
and forget how crude it is. It’s designed to terrify, as an instrument 
of torture to discourage potential rebels.

	But the third comment, the third image Archbishop Williams mentioned is 
actually a very personal one. He reminded us that we stretch out our 
hands to receive the Body and Blood of Jesus; we stretch them out, just 
as Jesus did that first time.

	God carefully gathers up all the harshness in life, the spikes, the 
sneers, the brutal anger and frustration, the petty jealousies, the 
sense that power is slipping away and no longer can be manipulated; God 
gathers up the detritus of society that we would count as so much 
throw-away trash – including, alas, some of our human companions – and 
out of the rubble produces starkly glowing colours. God, being God, 
hangs above the crowd on the hillside, with parts of our lives and hopes 
embedded in Jesus’ heart. God manages to turn our shame into a learning 
moment, so that, when the time clears, when the dark clouds rest through 
our various nights, we see the glorious Art of Life, carefully hung for 
all to appreciate, and accept.

This is the Middle Day – between the anxious hospitality of the meal and 
the restoration and awakening of every hope we ever had. And so we wait, 
letting the darkness envelop us, not to wallow maudlinly, but to watch, 
to witness the transformation foretold, God’s promise of Love fulfilled. 
And in that darkness as we hear the stone grinding against stone to seal 
away crushed life, in that darkness we know that God will carefully hang 
canvasses to give us a future of which we can only dream, even now.

NOTES:

1 	“Work by formerly homeless artists on display at University of the 
Arts” March 14, 2012 By Peter Crimmins 
http://www.newsworks.org/index.php/homepage-feature/item/35364-14pcuarts&Itemid=1

2	Sermon by Archbishop Rowan Williams   St Paul’s 'Within the Walls', 
Rome   11 March 2012 Lectionary: Exodus 20, Ps 19, 1 Cor 1.18–25; John 
2.13–22 
http://www.archbishopofcanterbury.org/articles.php/2394/archbishops-sermon-at-st-pauls-within-the-walls-rome

Robert P Morrison
Interim Vicar
The Episcopal Church of St Alban
PO Box 1556
Albany OR  97321   541-921-1076 (cell)