A few years ago, on the morning of Good Friday, I texted my siblings to remind them of their afternoon responsibilities.

"It's Good Friday, everyone. Be home by 2 O'clock. There will be sardines, matzo crackers, and vinegar.

Meg will be reading from the Passion of the Christ. Don't expect to be out until after dinner."

It was shared as a loving reminder of those distant Good Fridays when my mother insisted that we gather at the kitchen table for a painfully long afternoon, reliving the Passion through New Testament readings and her invented props, like tasting vinegar.

My mother would make all six of us walk with Jesus across the pages.

We'd read assigned passages and roll our eyes when she wasn't looking. The clock on our lime-green kitchen wall ticked with agonizing slowness.

They weren't good Fridays then - but I'd give anything to have them back now. Just for one afternoon.

After sending that text, I began thinking about those three O'Clock sessions. I thought about being a teenager and the songs we'd listen to on Easters' past. Songs from albums like Jesus Christ Superstar. Godspell.

As I listened, they rekindled feelings I had forgotten so long ago. How did those feelings and memories slip so deeply from my memories?

I think it was Godspell. My sister loved Godspell. And it was so fitting.

She was an artistic, creative, musical soul. She was perpetually alive, the real-life version of the girl with flowers in her hair, singing and dancing with him in a Superman T-shirt and suspenders. While many people couldn't ever envision John baptizing Jesus and his followers in a New York City fountain, she could.

She was a creative soul born to be loved—and to love. In the 1970's, I remember her in her fringed gypsy shirts and bell bottoms. Her full blonde hair was enviously everywhere. She was always ready to dance and skip with John the Baptist in the fountain waters.

On that cloudy January day, when we said goodbye, her friends planned a secret farewell song as the service ended. Standing on the balcony, accompanied by a moving melody, we heard the song "Prepare Ye, the Way of the Lord" from Godspell. It was a surprise of bittersweet sadness.

And it was an oh-so-perfectly fitting ending.

Like Good Friday, an ending we are taught is a beginning - in disguise.

Listening to that song, it was impossible not to feel thankful for her—for her love and charisma.

In the music, we could almost see her in her bell bottoms and flowers in her hair, laughing and dancing with her friends.

And because of her, I will forever understand the Good in Good Friday.

#good friday

Superman, Good Friday, and New Beginnings

My Godspell Sister