Cries of agony, darkness and Death. And in the midst of it all we hear our Lord say, "Forgive them for they know not what they do." And then the last breath comes as His eyes meet the eyes of His Mother Mary, our mother too.

Jesus our Savior, the Son of God who walked among us and who was present at the moment of creation itself, has been murdered for our sake.

All is lost. Or so it may have seemed.

On this rainy Good Friday I was able to join a group of our parish family, young and old, women and men, in moving the cross from the side of the altar to a new place for our Friday night Veneration of the Cross. This is Jesus' cross and it is heavy.

We placed it between the Baptismal Font and the Altar. We stood back and took it in. We are young and old; women and men, and we realized: This IS Jesus' cross. But something else is different, not just the location but something deeper called to us. It calls to us this evening.

The cross now awaits us between two realities, our rebirth in the waters of Baptism and our continual food for the jouney, the Eucharist. We had to move this cross together as women and men, young and old. This is not just Jesus' cross.

Truley, it IS Good Friday. We will remember His death today. We will approach His cross. What will we bring to this instrument of Jesus' death tonight, between the place of rebirth and thanksgiving?

What needs rebirth in our life? What needs thanksgiving? Do things look lost, defeated or lifeless? We carry the cross and it is heavy. We carry it as the young and the old, and as women and men.

Jesus has been, and awaits us, wherever and within any experience we may journey. He goes before us ALWAYS. Through His death and Resurrection He has promised to make "all things new." May we remember this evening, that this is our cross too.