"Shun Not Suffering, Shame, or Loss"
This question has been asked of me, and I think it is a fair one--why would anyone celebrate or remember the crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth? In my experience, when that question is asked, it is not being asked from the place of "why would anyone care about what happens to this person anyway?," as part of a broader project of skepticism about religious things generally or Christian things specifically. Yes, sure, some people will do that in a trolling kind of way, but you can usually spot those people straight off, and those folks can thus be easily ignored. Don't feed the trolls.
But, in my experience, this question generally comes from a more sympathetic place. Why do we come to church on a Friday year after year, and hear again and again this long, brutal account of a man being tortured and killed? Particularly as, we believe, the story ultimately has a happy ending two days later. Why dwell on the horror? Good Friday services are, in my experience, emotionally taxing and draining. Why put yourself through that?
Again, I think it is a fair question. And, I think we have to acknowledge that people have used, and do use, Good Friday and the Good Friday service for lots of bad reasons. Worst of them, without question, is as a propaganda vehicle for stirring up anger and violence against Jews--a purpose which has a long and shameful lineage. But there is also a certain sort of fetishization of violence and suffering that has often been associated with Good Friday, especially in the Western Catholic tradition. Probably the best critique of Gibson's The Passion of the Christ is that it drinks deep of that well, lingering on each swing of the scourge and each shower of blood from Jesus's back in an almost pornographic manner. Finally, there is an emotional blackmail component to Good Friday, in which we are encouraged to think about the sufferings of Jesus and contrast that with our own sinfulness or failings, as if Jesus is looking down from the Cross and saying "I went through all this and you still can't stop doing X?" As I have said before, emotional blackmail Christianity is deeply unhealthy, and Good Friday can often be the epicenter of this kind of thing.
But, nevertheless, I am fully convinced that Good Friday and Good Friday services are absolutely necessary and critical to the Christian life, notwithstanding these problematic applications. Good Friday, I think, is about two intertwined things: (1) making us stop and sit with pain and loss if we are in a good place; or (2) providing a space of solidarity for those who are not in a good place.
If you believe in the Resurrection, then you believe that ultimately this story (both the individual stories of people (including ourselves), and the collective story of humanity) has a happy ending. On Sunday, we will celebrate the first, decisive in-breaking of that happy ending into history, the preface to the ultimate resolution of all things. But believing in a happy ending does not magically make all of the intermediate pain and loss and disappointment go away. Believing in the Resurrection of the Dead does not eliminate the sorrow over of the death of a loved one--that sorrow is still there, no matter how fervently one believes in the life to come. Belief in the ultimate triumph of God's justice does not nullify the terror and crisis of the effects of injustice in the hear and now.
There is a strong temptation in Christianity, born out of a genuine belief in and enthusiasm for the power of Easter, to tell people that those sufferings either aren't real or of no moment in the big picture. Well-intentioned as this might be, it is a dangerous temptation, and one that we have to fight hard against. If Christians and Christianity aren't willing to acknowledge the reality of suffering and loss, we end up with two related problems. First, for people whose lives are basically happy, this sentiment can breed a dismissive attitude toward the sufferings of others. No one wants to be brought down from their high, and if you provide a theological justification for not having to do that, people will take that lifeline every time. On the flip side, for people who are in the midst of genuine suffering and loss, the message of Christianity becomes unintelligible, even perverse--mocking them and their pain with a blast of manufactured sunshine. Christianity thus becomes the worst sort of calorie-free, self-help scheme.
Good Friday is the antidote to all of this, because it makes us stop and sit with suffering and pain and humiliation and loss, even if for a brief time. Good Friday is about not skipping ahead to the good parts, but taking the time to be in the presence of the darkness in human life. If we come to Good Friday in a generally positive place, we are made to confront the reality of suffering that we may not be experiencing in our own life, but can be found in real people that are all around us. It is designed to stop us short, to slow our roll, to make us acknowledge that not everything is great all the time. If it is doing its work, it should make us ready to stand in solidarity with the mother who has lost her child, the young man or woman who has been rejected by family for being LGBT, person who can't get out of addiction or a mental health spiral, and everyone else who is in pain.
Conversely, for those people who are in those dark places, Good Friday is about creating a space for them, for their pain to be acknowledged. Some of that acknowledgement will come, hopefully, from others, as I mentioned above. But, I think more importantly, Good Friday is about that pain being acknowledged by God. When God came to earth and took on human form, He took on all of it, including the worst possible forms of pain and loss and suffering. Whatever pain and sorrow you might be feeling, Jesus looks down from the cross having experienced all of it. There is no place you can go that He hasn't been. Sometimes the most powerful statement we can give to someone is "I know what you are going through," and Good Friday is the day to remember that Jesus can always say that, to everyone, at all times. The cross is God's ultimate and complete expression of solidarity with those who are suffering, who are persecuted, who have experienced loss.
My favorite Holy Week hymn, one that I had not heard until becoming an Episcopalian, is "Go to Dark Gethsemane." It is a simple, haunting tune, with a few, powerful words:
Go to dark Gethsemane, ye that feel the Tempter's power
Your Redeemer's conflict see, watch with Him one bitter hour
Turn not from His griefs away, learn with Jesus Christ to pray
Follow to the judgment hall, hear the Lord of Life arraigned
Oh the wormwood and the gall, oh the pains His soul sustained!
Shun not suffering, shame, or loss, learn of Him to bear the Cross
Calvary's mournful mountain-side, there adoring at His feet
Mark the miracle of time, God's own sacrifice complete
"It is finished," hear the cry, look on Jesus Christ to die
Early hasten to the tomb, where they laid His breathless clay
All is solitude and gloom, who hath taken Him away?
Christ is risen, He meets our eyes, Savior teach us so to rise
We hear these stories, we walk through the stations of the cross, we sit at the foot of Calvary, because Jesus is teaching us about the reality of suffering. It shouldn't be fetishized, but it also can't, and shouldn't be ignored. God chose not to turn away from grief, chose not to shun suffering, shame or loss, but leaned into those realities. Good Friday is the day for us to do the same.
But, in my experience, this question generally comes from a more sympathetic place. Why do we come to church on a Friday year after year, and hear again and again this long, brutal account of a man being tortured and killed? Particularly as, we believe, the story ultimately has a happy ending two days later. Why dwell on the horror? Good Friday services are, in my experience, emotionally taxing and draining. Why put yourself through that?
Again, I think it is a fair question. And, I think we have to acknowledge that people have used, and do use, Good Friday and the Good Friday service for lots of bad reasons. Worst of them, without question, is as a propaganda vehicle for stirring up anger and violence against Jews--a purpose which has a long and shameful lineage. But there is also a certain sort of fetishization of violence and suffering that has often been associated with Good Friday, especially in the Western Catholic tradition. Probably the best critique of Gibson's The Passion of the Christ is that it drinks deep of that well, lingering on each swing of the scourge and each shower of blood from Jesus's back in an almost pornographic manner. Finally, there is an emotional blackmail component to Good Friday, in which we are encouraged to think about the sufferings of Jesus and contrast that with our own sinfulness or failings, as if Jesus is looking down from the Cross and saying "I went through all this and you still can't stop doing X?" As I have said before, emotional blackmail Christianity is deeply unhealthy, and Good Friday can often be the epicenter of this kind of thing.
But, nevertheless, I am fully convinced that Good Friday and Good Friday services are absolutely necessary and critical to the Christian life, notwithstanding these problematic applications. Good Friday, I think, is about two intertwined things: (1) making us stop and sit with pain and loss if we are in a good place; or (2) providing a space of solidarity for those who are not in a good place.
If you believe in the Resurrection, then you believe that ultimately this story (both the individual stories of people (including ourselves), and the collective story of humanity) has a happy ending. On Sunday, we will celebrate the first, decisive in-breaking of that happy ending into history, the preface to the ultimate resolution of all things. But believing in a happy ending does not magically make all of the intermediate pain and loss and disappointment go away. Believing in the Resurrection of the Dead does not eliminate the sorrow over of the death of a loved one--that sorrow is still there, no matter how fervently one believes in the life to come. Belief in the ultimate triumph of God's justice does not nullify the terror and crisis of the effects of injustice in the hear and now.
There is a strong temptation in Christianity, born out of a genuine belief in and enthusiasm for the power of Easter, to tell people that those sufferings either aren't real or of no moment in the big picture. Well-intentioned as this might be, it is a dangerous temptation, and one that we have to fight hard against. If Christians and Christianity aren't willing to acknowledge the reality of suffering and loss, we end up with two related problems. First, for people whose lives are basically happy, this sentiment can breed a dismissive attitude toward the sufferings of others. No one wants to be brought down from their high, and if you provide a theological justification for not having to do that, people will take that lifeline every time. On the flip side, for people who are in the midst of genuine suffering and loss, the message of Christianity becomes unintelligible, even perverse--mocking them and their pain with a blast of manufactured sunshine. Christianity thus becomes the worst sort of calorie-free, self-help scheme.
Good Friday is the antidote to all of this, because it makes us stop and sit with suffering and pain and humiliation and loss, even if for a brief time. Good Friday is about not skipping ahead to the good parts, but taking the time to be in the presence of the darkness in human life. If we come to Good Friday in a generally positive place, we are made to confront the reality of suffering that we may not be experiencing in our own life, but can be found in real people that are all around us. It is designed to stop us short, to slow our roll, to make us acknowledge that not everything is great all the time. If it is doing its work, it should make us ready to stand in solidarity with the mother who has lost her child, the young man or woman who has been rejected by family for being LGBT, person who can't get out of addiction or a mental health spiral, and everyone else who is in pain.
Conversely, for those people who are in those dark places, Good Friday is about creating a space for them, for their pain to be acknowledged. Some of that acknowledgement will come, hopefully, from others, as I mentioned above. But, I think more importantly, Good Friday is about that pain being acknowledged by God. When God came to earth and took on human form, He took on all of it, including the worst possible forms of pain and loss and suffering. Whatever pain and sorrow you might be feeling, Jesus looks down from the cross having experienced all of it. There is no place you can go that He hasn't been. Sometimes the most powerful statement we can give to someone is "I know what you are going through," and Good Friday is the day to remember that Jesus can always say that, to everyone, at all times. The cross is God's ultimate and complete expression of solidarity with those who are suffering, who are persecuted, who have experienced loss.
My favorite Holy Week hymn, one that I had not heard until becoming an Episcopalian, is "Go to Dark Gethsemane." It is a simple, haunting tune, with a few, powerful words:
Go to dark Gethsemane, ye that feel the Tempter's power
Your Redeemer's conflict see, watch with Him one bitter hour
Turn not from His griefs away, learn with Jesus Christ to pray
Follow to the judgment hall, hear the Lord of Life arraigned
Oh the wormwood and the gall, oh the pains His soul sustained!
Shun not suffering, shame, or loss, learn of Him to bear the Cross
Calvary's mournful mountain-side, there adoring at His feet
Mark the miracle of time, God's own sacrifice complete
"It is finished," hear the cry, look on Jesus Christ to die
Early hasten to the tomb, where they laid His breathless clay
All is solitude and gloom, who hath taken Him away?
Christ is risen, He meets our eyes, Savior teach us so to rise
We hear these stories, we walk through the stations of the cross, we sit at the foot of Calvary, because Jesus is teaching us about the reality of suffering. It shouldn't be fetishized, but it also can't, and shouldn't be ignored. God chose not to turn away from grief, chose not to shun suffering, shame or loss, but leaned into those realities. Good Friday is the day for us to do the same.
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