WHAT I DID ON "GOOD FRIDAY"

 

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.