Good Friday Celebration of the Lord's Passion

This is probably one of the most difficult, most challenging, most brutal passages in all of scripture.  Here we have details that make the passion tangible and immediate and raw.  Here, in St. John’s gospel, we have weapons and torches.  We have the thorns.  There is the purple cloak.  The bitter wine.  The poignant moment between Jesus and his mother.  Christ’s pierced side.  The flowing blood and water.  All the details that, together, paint an indelible portrait of the passion and make it inescapably real.

What we are experiencing during this Triduum – these three days of Holy Thursday, Good Friday and Holy Saturday – is one extended liturgy.  There was no dismissal or closing for last night’s Mass of the Lord’s Supper.  There was no sign of the cross to begin this liturgy tonight.  We are continuing what we began yesterday, and it won’t conclude until tomorrow.

But the absence we experience is profound.  No Eucharistic prayer.  A bare altar.  An empty tabernacle.  Time has stopped.  We hang in a moment of suspended time, waiting for the explosive moment in the Easter Vigil tomorrow, when God will say, “Let there be light,” and this church and our world will once again be ablaze.  But here, and now, we wait.  We grieve.  We mourn.  We hope.  And our eyes turn to the cross.  Our discipleship, our witness and our worship will be mere sentiment if we do not somehow resemble Christ in his wounds.

In Eden, a tree brought about our condemnation.  Today, another tree brings about our redemption.  Behold the wood of the cross, on which hung the salvation of the world.  Near the end of this gospel account, Christ utters his last words: “It is finished.”  All the suffering, the bloodshed, the sacrifice, the humiliation comes to an end.  But the story isn’t over.  It isn’t finished.  In fact, it is just beginning.

Paul A. Magnano

Pastor