Today is Good Friday. Since moving to the DTES, holidays such as Christmas, Thanksgiving and Easter take on a whole new level of meaning. To be honest, I don't think I ever seriously observed this day before. After serving two fabulous Easter meals at the mission (where I work) I went on a walk around the neighborhood to the stations of the cross. The procession ended at the beach, where we each made our own crosses. Mine is the ghetto version, as someone commented today. But perhaps its more accurate. Rawness and self expression trumps the anatomically correct human form any day.
I had a beautiful conversation with my friend in the picture below. Earlier today he struggled to drag the life-size cross down Hastings Street as a part of the Easter procession. While he vocally processed (How did Jesus carry that thing? He was pretty beaten up, well I guess he didn't carry it the whole way. But wow- its like he was digging his own grave) I was overwhelmed with emotion- something between sadness, elation and hope. God's heart for the marginalized is so apparent in this season. No one suffers alone.