Our Good Friday
For the past 6 years on Good Friday, I have taken the day off to participate in the Good Friday service at church, and to have a quiet day in recognition of Christ’s death on the cross. I have been invited twice to deliver a short homily in those years, and the theme both times has been about passing through death to be able to live a resurrected life. The death I referred to was the death of old habits and ways of living life, of old attitudes and perceptions that all lead to a life of brokenness, and falling short of the life Christ called us to live. It was the beginning of mourning the loss of familiar ways of sabotaging our lives, so that on Easter we could celebrate the resurrection of our lives into something new, something better, something holy. It was, and still is, a message worth contemplating and taking to heart.
It is hard, though, to think about metaphorical and spiritual death when we are currently surrounded by real death caused by a virus we can’t see. New York City has reached over seven thousand deaths in the last four weeks, Detroit has reached almost 1000, and Chicago over 300. These deaths are real, and continue like a runaway train that we can’t stop. We can only try to limit the number of people infected. This hard, inescapable reality intrudes on the arc of Maundy Thursday to Easter Sunday. That arc takes us through loving fellowship on Thursday that culminates in humbling ourselves by washing the feet of others. It then takes a stark, dramatic turn on Friday, where Christ is crucified and dies for us as an ultimate act of love. Holy Saturday is when grief catches up to the shock of death and time stands still for the bereaved. I am sure that this is the experience of many people who have lost friends and family members. Death comes swiftly from COVID-19, just after it seemed that the deceased was doing well and enjoying life.
Looking at the real death happening around us from the pandemic casts Good Friday in a very different light, almost to the point of making it seem irrelevant. But as I have thought about it, we are in an extended Good Friday, where we are also witnessing the death of a life that was familiar, and a world that was comfortable to live in. Some of the things that we did in our own lives and attitudes we saw in the world seemed harmless and justifiable, but their harm has been laid out in plain view by an indiscriminate virus. The virus has taken advantage of the brokenness in the world, making it clear that the old way of living and attitudes in the world need to change. But the problem is that we don’t have a clear idea of what life will be like in the future to prevent the death and disease brought to us, and the impact they have had on us emotionally, financially, and spiritually. We remain in this suspended time of extended grief as the number of dead increases, stuck between Good Friday and Holy Saturday, unable to move forward.
We have the opportunity, then, to take a hard, honest look at how we have lived in this world, and understand what thoughts, attitudes, and actions can’t continue. COVID-19 is not a punishment, or a direct result of our brokenness. It is not a call from God to righteousness - that is part of our weekly worship as the Body of Christ gathered together. Instead we have the opportunity to carry out a last Lenten discipline of looking at where we fall short in putting the last first and the least before everyone else. We can look for ways in which we can live a life where caring for and being mindful of the last and the least is a natural reaction when a local, national, or global crisis occurs. There are other things to work on, related to how we obtain healthcare, support the affected financially, and ensure that everyone has what they need for daily life. They are not as clear-cut, but are worth our time to find and incorporate into our lives. This is the work we need to do during this time of being stuck in time, when Easter is just beyond our grasp and perception.
Good Friday is the hardest day of Lent, the day when we are confronted by the reality that death brings, and where there is no room for negotiation. We are faced with the stark reality of helplessly watching people die of the novel coronavirus around us and there is no way to avoid it. We struggle to find acceptable answers as to why, how, and who instead of acknowledging the answers that we know are right but we resist. But without this struggle, without the gut-wrenching decisions to be made, without the despair of watching the death toll climb, we would not be in a position to understand or recognize the resurrected life of Easter that follows Good Friday. We would not be able to sustain a new life after the pandemic unless we had first experienced the death of the old life on Good Friday and the grief and despair of the in-between time of Holy Saturday. Good Friday is not a permanent place to stay; it is instead a stage to pass through. Neither is the pandemic a permanent part of our lives. It is a time of transition that we can and must endure as we look for Easter to come, as it always has. Not even death from a virus can prevent our resurrection, our Easter day.
It is hard, though, to think about metaphorical and spiritual death when we are currently surrounded by real death caused by a virus we can’t see. New York City has reached over seven thousand deaths in the last four weeks, Detroit has reached almost 1000, and Chicago over 300. These deaths are real, and continue like a runaway train that we can’t stop. We can only try to limit the number of people infected. This hard, inescapable reality intrudes on the arc of Maundy Thursday to Easter Sunday. That arc takes us through loving fellowship on Thursday that culminates in humbling ourselves by washing the feet of others. It then takes a stark, dramatic turn on Friday, where Christ is crucified and dies for us as an ultimate act of love. Holy Saturday is when grief catches up to the shock of death and time stands still for the bereaved. I am sure that this is the experience of many people who have lost friends and family members. Death comes swiftly from COVID-19, just after it seemed that the deceased was doing well and enjoying life.
Looking at the real death happening around us from the pandemic casts Good Friday in a very different light, almost to the point of making it seem irrelevant. But as I have thought about it, we are in an extended Good Friday, where we are also witnessing the death of a life that was familiar, and a world that was comfortable to live in. Some of the things that we did in our own lives and attitudes we saw in the world seemed harmless and justifiable, but their harm has been laid out in plain view by an indiscriminate virus. The virus has taken advantage of the brokenness in the world, making it clear that the old way of living and attitudes in the world need to change. But the problem is that we don’t have a clear idea of what life will be like in the future to prevent the death and disease brought to us, and the impact they have had on us emotionally, financially, and spiritually. We remain in this suspended time of extended grief as the number of dead increases, stuck between Good Friday and Holy Saturday, unable to move forward.
We have the opportunity, then, to take a hard, honest look at how we have lived in this world, and understand what thoughts, attitudes, and actions can’t continue. COVID-19 is not a punishment, or a direct result of our brokenness. It is not a call from God to righteousness - that is part of our weekly worship as the Body of Christ gathered together. Instead we have the opportunity to carry out a last Lenten discipline of looking at where we fall short in putting the last first and the least before everyone else. We can look for ways in which we can live a life where caring for and being mindful of the last and the least is a natural reaction when a local, national, or global crisis occurs. There are other things to work on, related to how we obtain healthcare, support the affected financially, and ensure that everyone has what they need for daily life. They are not as clear-cut, but are worth our time to find and incorporate into our lives. This is the work we need to do during this time of being stuck in time, when Easter is just beyond our grasp and perception.
Good Friday is the hardest day of Lent, the day when we are confronted by the reality that death brings, and where there is no room for negotiation. We are faced with the stark reality of helplessly watching people die of the novel coronavirus around us and there is no way to avoid it. We struggle to find acceptable answers as to why, how, and who instead of acknowledging the answers that we know are right but we resist. But without this struggle, without the gut-wrenching decisions to be made, without the despair of watching the death toll climb, we would not be in a position to understand or recognize the resurrected life of Easter that follows Good Friday. We would not be able to sustain a new life after the pandemic unless we had first experienced the death of the old life on Good Friday and the grief and despair of the in-between time of Holy Saturday. Good Friday is not a permanent place to stay; it is instead a stage to pass through. Neither is the pandemic a permanent part of our lives. It is a time of transition that we can and must endure as we look for Easter to come, as it always has. Not even death from a virus can prevent our resurrection, our Easter day.
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