Good Friday

Isaiah 52:13-53:12; Psalm 22; Hebrews 4:14-16; 5:7-9; John 18:1-19:42

Well, here we are. Jesus has been crucified. The event he predicted has come at last, and he is gone, killed by a blasphemous intersection of religious and political power. The Savior we worship was executed in the most brutal possible way. Crucifixion was not a death used for the average run-of-the-mill criminal. It was slow, essentially suffocating the victim to death as they hung, unable to breath. It was meant to serve as an example.

We are the lucky ones, because we can see past Friday. We know ahead of time what’s coming.  But people who were part of the story couldn’t know that. Peter, who told people he didn’t know Jesus, couldn’t know that. The disciples couldn’t know that when they ran away in fear rather than risk being associated with a condemned criminal. Mary, who watched her son die a slow, agonizing death on the cross, couldn’t know that.

They couldn’t see past the horrible, horrible now. In the words of blogger Fred Clark, they had to spend all day Saturday never being sure that there would even be a Sunday. Not knowing if anything would ever be right again. The dream of the Messiah was over. Done. Killed by the Romans. Executed as a criminal.

All was lost. Could there even be anything left to live for?

They couldn’t know that something else was happening. Something beyond anything they had ever experienced.

In John’s Gospel Jesus says at the end, “It is finished.” And it WAS finished. The work he had come to do was complete, his tasks were accomplished. But the people who knew him, who followed him, who loved him, couldn’t know that.

They couldn’t know that in his death, Jesus had already won. In his dying he destroyed the power of evil and death. We no longer have to fear either one. Resurrection came after, yes, but the completion, the victory, was in his dying, in his judicial murder by the people he had come to save.

I know, I know. It makes no sense.

People often ask why we call today “Good Friday.” How can we call it “good?” It’s the worst possible Friday. Jesus was crucified today! How can that be “good”?

It makes no sense.

St. Paul saw the paradox quite clearly. In fact, he reveled in it. Paul saw that the cross — to most people an emblem of shame — was instead the symbol of Christ’s victory. The victory that Jesus won in his death is why this is indeed “Good Friday,” maybe even the best Friday.

But our brothers and sisters back then couldn’t know just how good it would turn out to be. And that is why we have a solemn, somber service today, even though we all know it is a Good Friday. Our altar is bare. We’re not singing. We have no alleluias. We worship in sympathy with those who didn’t know, who couldn’t know what was coming.  Who didn’t understand.

In a moment, we will begin the Solemn Collects, a group of solemn prayers that we traditionally use on Good Friday. These prayers do not even once reference Christ’s resurrection, but they do make reference to our hope of resurrection. And this, today, is where we must live. In sorrow, yes, but also in hope.

As we pray, let us dwell with those who have gone before, in the sorrow of Jesus’ death. But let us also remember the victory.

And let us also remember that he promised resurrection and new life. Let us live in hope.

Amen.