WHAT I DID ON “GOOD FRIDAY”
Christopher Nyerges
[Nyerges is the author of many books, such
as “Searching for the Meaning of Life,” “Watermelon Dreams,” “Urban Survival
Guide,” “Extreme Simplicity,” and others.
More information can be found at www.SchoolofSelf-Reliance.com.
One year, during the Easter weekend, I saw a picture
of the Pope dragging a wooden cross along the path that Jesus is said to have
taken after the trials, on his way to Golgotha.
The Pope was commemorating what Catholics call the Stations of the
Cross, significant events along the way while the beaten Jesus was dragging the
very cross that he would be nailed to.
In the case of the Pope, the article indicated that
the Pope’s cross was made of balsa wood, weighing about 5 pounds, and it was
fitted with little wheels so that it could be rolled, and didn’t really require
any physical strength to carry.
This caught my attention because of the unique exercises
I have done with the Survival Training School of Highland Park, beginning in
the late 1970s. The School’s focus involved
physical exercises, running, jumping, and other activities that bring the
student to their physical and mental limits, with the goal of extending one’s perceived
limits. Needless to say, it was a
strenuous regimen, and the number of students was never large.
This was not a religious school, though the headmaster,
who also taught Yoga when it was not popular, often attempted to incorporate spiritual
or religious principles into some of the curriculum. For example, we all did an activity called “Cross
Bearing” during Good Friday, sometimes on the following Saturday since the
classes were always on Saturdays. The instructor told us to look at what
happened to Jesus after he was brought to trial and beaten. We were told to attempt to grasp the intense
physical pain that Jesus had to have undergone, and then, after being beaten
and bloody, was forced to carry a heavy wooden cross. Our exercise was then to select logs at our
class site, and to carry one over our shoulders, up and down the unpaved
driveway to the hilltop school. We were
told to do this physically taxing activity in silence, and to breathe deeply
during the slow walking. In fact, we
were given a whole series of instructions on how to breathe, how to deal with
the pain, and how to ask our “higher Self” for assistance in continuing just a
little bit beyond where we felt we’d reached a limit. It all fit right in with our general school
curriculum, which was intended to be real, and uncompromising. As I said, the number of students was never
large, and many of the student were mysteriously “out of town” during the Good
Friday event.
Once a reporter called us to ask if they could come
and photograph the event. “Sure,” I
responded. “This is a religious activity,
right?” asked the reporter. “Well,” I
began. “Not exactly.” I then tried to explain that this was not
some sort of Good Friday replication where we wear robes and whip ourselves,
but rather that it was part of a very secular martial-arts-type school where
there is focus on physical and mental expansion. “Oh,” she replied, “we were expecting
something else,” and they did not come.
Clearly, what they wanted was to see someone – preferably dressed in a
robe -- pulling a small cross on wheels like the Pope, while parishioners stand
along and pray along the path.
Nevertheless, this has been a highpoint for me nearly
every Good Friday for the past approximately 40 years. In the very beginning, I was able to do the
Cross Bearing with a section of a telephone pole! These days, my “crosses” have gotten smaller,
though I still focus upon the same breathing techniques, and the same mental
focus of quietly looking at my own “crosses”
in life as I slowly walk up and down the driveway.
I am well aware that in many parts of the world people
have tried to literally re-create the crucifixion as a way to intensely
remember the pain of Jesus. In my files,
I have photos of Catholic groups in such diverse places as Mexico, Guatemala,
and the Philipines, where some participants actually get nailed to a cross for
a few minutes. They have doctors on hand, and they use sterilized nails. In other places, the “celebrants” actually
get bloody-whipped and the observers take it all very seriously.
Though I have no interest in having someone drive a nail
in my wrist, or whip me, I still derive great benefit from my personal focus upon
taking on a bit more of a challenge than I think I can. Though I have respect for the people who
choose to replicate Jesus’s ordeal, it still strikes me too much as trying to
take on the appearance of something, rather
than actually deeply feeling what it’s all about, regardless if anyone
is watching.
This year, just a small group of students from the
Survival Training School showed up for the Cross Bearing event. Everyone carried segments of tree branches
from some recent tree-pruning. It was quiet, intense, and deeply moving to
everyone present.
When I was a child, I sat in church on Good Friday from
noon to three, not understanding the priest’s Latin, and finding the crowded
church quite stuffy. I sometimes fell
asleep. Somehow, the Cross Bearing, with
no religious underpinning, put me more intensely in touch with the presumed
theme of Easter weekend.