It is the silence involved with the whole thing I find most unsettling...most compelling.
Silence in trial, long silences on the cross, prophetic fulfilment of ancient words...Isaiah 53:6-8.
Every year the local churches in my area in an unaccustomed act of unity have a 'march of witness'. This involves a short 'walk' following a carried cross along the street, stopping at various churches to have some Scripture read above the noise of the passing traffic.
As a piece of dramatic witnessing theatre I think that such an event in its weakness and vulnerability has meaning and significance.
Yet, I have struggled with it. For those who walked wanted to talk to one another (fellowship?). Some to hand out tracts (evangelism?). Some to dress in bright clothes (joy over victory?). Me I wanted a different kind of theatre - one of silence. People waking, saying nothing, just walking, behind a cross - silent in defiance of noise and words, silent and vulnerable, defiantly silent refusing to justify, refusing to explain, just bearing witness in silence, raising questions but offering no answers.
Yes, yes, words will come. Some from the Cross - 'Forgive' and after more silence words from the Tomb - 'He has Risen' - but not yet, please not yet...Lent has been long...but hold it still...keep the words at bay...let the silence be heavy with anticipation, painful, just a bit longer...so that when words are spoken they come finally with the power of a whisper to deafen, and ring like an incredible announcement of Good News.
I'm not walking this year. Don't want to talk.