Quarantine 17, Good Friday

A strange Good Friday, very quiet, as if things had come to a standstill, which of course they have. Beautiful weather again, with the bonus of far less air pollution and so seemingly brighter colours than during “normal” times. For there are no planes overhead, and there is far less traffic on the adjacent motorway.

In the morning I went for a long walk in one of the estates in Wassenaar, between Leiden and The Hague, where the Royal family lived before Alexander was inaugurated as King. It is an attractive area, a mixture of woodland, long drives lined with stately beech trees, pastures and wetlands. It used to be the hunting ground of Prince Frederik (1797-1881). This park is usually very crowded with people during the weekends, and especially on sunny weekends and times like Easter and Whitsun. Expecting lots of visitors and so fearing the spread of the Corona virus, most parks and even the beaches are closed off, mainly for day trippers, as the parking lots are all closed and barred. On foot and by bike far more is possible, although we are all advised to stay at home.

 De Horsten

Walking here with hardly any others, is a form of meditation. I can give my mind a rest, or just experience the importance of this special Friday, a Friday so unlike any others. It is quiet, with some distant noise of a single train passing by, and traffic on a provincial road. Nature has woken up, birds sing their most joyous songs, geese fly gaggling overhead, there are flowers and blossoms everywhere. I am shocked when a favourite path, flanked by trees, is totally bare, the trees sawed down, some trunks still bleeding. Why? What is the reason? This path has ditches on both sides, which now look naked. It is open to the wind, with pastureland on both sides. The cows out in the fields do not seem to mind though. A bit further on, a row of old beeches have been chopped down as well. I am jarred out of my pensive mood, decide I won’t come back here this year. But one year can’t erase the damage, see new growth. It takes time for trees to grow and for woods to mature. The new trees they have planted in some places, will take more years than there are left to me. I will never see the lanes as majestic as they were, their beauty restored.

Bologna, Chiesa di Santa Maria della Vita

PIETA, terracotta, 

Niccolo da Puglia, also called Niccolo dell' Arca

Once home I go and sit in my sunny garden, and listen to one of the two recorded church services for Good Friday. First the one in which I took part and sang the hymns together with another choir member, a soprano. It doesn’t sound too “thin”, as I had feared, and in fact I find it even moving. After coffee and lunch, I listen to the second part of the service, which has a different character but is also contemplative. In a way it is easier to concentrate and listen at home than in church. There is nothing to distract me. What I feared, Good Friday without any religious celebration, a soulless affair, turns out to be very meaningful. But I do miss the fellowship.

Detail

After dinner, in the evening I try to listen to J.S Bach’s Matthew Passion. But the recording I have is not at all what I remember and had hoped for, and I am greatly disappointed. So I decide to put on a series of records – vinyl - which I still have from decades back, with the same Passion. To my amazement my record player still functions, but the sound is neither what I was looking forward to. It is metallic, seems a mono recording. Perhaps it is not the recording, but the record player and the needle which should be replaced if I can find one. In the end I turn the music off and try to find more suitable Passion Music via You Tube.

Every year I go and attend the Matthew Passion on Maundy Thursday in the Pieterskerk in Leyden, a big medieval church, sung by a well-known Bach choir and a professional orchestra. Of course, a live performance is different from a record. Perhaps I am spoilt. Hopefully next year normality will have returned and I can again enjoy the music live.

Life for me is about faith and love, for God, nature, friends and family. Only the relationship with God hasn’t changed now that we live in isolation. God has always been far off and at the same time nearby, not here in human flesh, a presence we cannot touch, which can only touch our hearts and minds. That has not changed. Today we think of God incarnate, in human form, his son. And of his death on the cross. A gruesome death. Why have people been so cruel throughout the ages? Even in the name of justice? They were cruel then and they still are. How can we do such things to other human beings?

But we know there is hope and that after Good Friday and this very empty and quiet Saturday, there is the glory of Easter Morning and the hope of resurrection.