I don’t handle Good Friday very well and, as I look around, I see I’m not the only one. I am conflicted on what I should do and how I should feel. I remember the Holy Weeks of my youth. I was always impressed with the solemn Good Friday ceremony with its long reading of the Passion, stripping of the altar and covering of the statutes in church. It was the strangest day of the church year, a ceremonial attempt to convey the import of a death 2000 years ago.
The very name of the day, Good Friday, betrays an uncomfortable contrast. How can a day memorializing the torture death of the Savior be “Good.” I know all the theological explanations but the discomfort remains.
In modern times, Good Friday is the actual holiday of the Easter weekend. It is the day off, the free day that makes up the three day weekend. In Acadiana, it’s the day of the year with the largest consumption of crawfish. There’s a fun fact for you. Is that consistent with the death we are memorializing?
We like to rush through Good Friday with our eyes half closed focused on the brightness and joy of Resurrection Sunday. But that’s the wrong thing to do. Without Good Friday there is no Easter Sunday. We need to spend some time at the foot of the cross. We need to try to understand the love that held Him there. We need to feel the weight of our sin that made it all necessary. We need to face our responsibility and weep for what we’ve done and, sadly, often continue to do.
Nick
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