Good Friday 2010
One thing is terribly obvious today. This whole thing is totally public. He is tried in public court and displayed before all. He is led through avenues of the city surrounded by the noise of the holiday crowds. They attached Him to a billboard like He was an advertisement for some new skin care product. There was nothing private about this.
And that’s the point. The scourging was a brutal and visual illustration. The location of the crucifixion had to be public. This was a PR message of the Roman Empire. And no one missed it.
Compared to the intimate privacy of the night before, this is obscene. Last night He was surrounded by people who loved Him; today He mostly sees the faces of strangers. In the Upper Room, His disciples saw His look of concern; now He can barely observe that most couldn’t care less.
It’s striking really; the most effective event in history of the world was barely noticed by most of the world. In that cold indifference we see the unquenchable fire of love.
But are we surprised? The loving devotion we know and sometimes practice is not often met with a thunderous applause of acclamation. No one will throw a parade because we threw out the trash. No one will be drowned in gratitude for doing the dishes. Sure, it would all be nice if it did, but experience has taught us that devotion and fidelity can’t expect recognition. But then again, love doesn’t require it.
What we see displayed before us on Good Friday is the most absolute decision of love. This is the act of supreme reconciliation. In and of itself, it is perfect and complete.
Unfortunately, we are not. We look at this and whisper, “no, there must be another way. Come down from that cross.” We hear the promise of paradise when this is over so we don’t look at it right now. We go to the theology to escape the sentiment. We deduce the implications and apply the deductions. After all, this is a bloody, public mess.
Yes, it would be nothing more save for one thing. This is a public demonstration of the Divine decision of love. Make no mistake about this; none of this was an accident. St. John clearly shows who was in charge.
The will of God permitted the arrest. It is Pilate, not Jesus, who approaches the bench. It is the Nazarene whose sovereign power permits the Roman Empire to judge Him. It is Jesus who carries the cross without assistance. It is Christ who is enthroned in the middle of two criminals.
Jesus is the Saving Victim but not a helpless one. This is not by accident or happenstance. And He wanted everyone to know it:
For those who have not been told shall see, those who have not heard shall ponder it.
Love has gone public. And like anything out there, the public will exercise its option. The variety of the populace gathered or passing by the foot of the Cross is an accurate reflection of all humanity - some scorned, few mourned, most ignored. But that in no way had any effect on what was done on Golgotha. The pure decision of sacrificial love cannot be sullied by rejection. A lesser love needs to be accepted because without affirmation, it is pointless.
On Good Friday, we do one thing that was done long ago. We simply display what absolute love really is. With affectionate emotion we enter the events of the Redemption in order to simply stand with Mary and John. We lift up the Cross as a silent and public display of this charity offered to the world and being accepted by each one of us.
And in the overwhelming silence of this highly visible love, something profound happens to us. We are changed by the reality that we are loved. We have looked upon Him who was pierced for our offenses and crushed for our sins. Like the Israelites looking at the bronze symbol of their affliction, we find wholeness in the Broken One.
But this is no passing glance or magical vision. We look at the publically visible to find grace in what is private and invisible.
We see the Cross and its attendant love everywhere. Look at the unheralded Golgothas around us – the single parent working three jobs to care for the children, the spouse watching their beloved slip deeper and deeper into disability, the Sister holding the hand of a terminally ill resident who has no known family.
But we don’t have to go that far. We see the shadow of the Cross in each of ourselves. We love others yet are barely noticed by them. We suffer the daily difficulties of limitations and ability and are deemed worthless. We are angered by loving hands extended yet ignored. Oh, yes, the Cross is not some long-ago torture devise. It is very real and very much among us.
We publically adore the Cross of Jesus because we also know the weight of it. We adore the One who was given for the life of the world because we know how difficult our life can be in this world. In the lonely darkness of Calvary we detect a hopeful peace because we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses. No, the Word-made-flesh speaks His silent Word to the burden and bother of our flesh.
So the crucified Carpenter on the hill is displayed for all to see. Like the sun shining on the good and bad alike, He is there in a perpetual decision of complete love.
The question of Good Friday is simple: Do you see it?