Good Friday, April 18, 2025

Good Friday

Isaiah 52:13-53:12; Psalm 22; Hebrews 10: 16-25; John 18:1 – 19:42

The Rev. James M.L. Grace

In the Name of God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  AMEN.

Last Sunday, during the early hours of Palm Sunday, Israeli missiles struck that Al Ahli Hospital in Gaza.  Al Ahli Hospital is a ministry of the Episcopal Diocese of Jerusalem (the recipient of today’s Good Friday offering).  The hospital is Gaza’s oldest hospital, and the only one that provides care to all in need, regardless of religion, political affiliation, or even the ability to pay.  However we understand the causes of violence in the Holy Land, the imperative to support the Episcopal Church’s efforts in alleviating the devastating humanitarian crisis in Gaza should be obvious to all of us. 

The missile attack completely destroyed the hospital’s two-story Genetic Laboratory and severely damaged the Pharmacy, Emergency Department, and nearby buildings, including St. Philip’s Church. Staff and patients were given only twenty minutes to evacuate. While there were no casualties from the blasts, one child—already suffering from a head injury—tragically died during the evacuation.

This marks the fifth attack on Ahli Hospital since war began in 2023.  This is not a sermon about taking a side in the Israeli/Gaza conflict, nor is the intent of this sermon to justify the actions of either side.  An Augustinian theory of just war would likely find offenses on either sides.

So what is this sermon about, then?

I do not really know.  I guess this is a sermon which simply acknowledges the pain of our human brokenness and God’s remedy for it, which is crucifixion and death.  Not crucifixion and death for Jesus alone, but suffering, crucifixion, and death for us as well.  I use “crucifixion” here metaphorically, of course.  God’s answer to our brokenness is not physical torture, but it is about dying. 

Franciscan priest and author Richard Rohr says of the crucifixion: “[in] the cross we [see] Jesus’ voluntary acceptance of undeserved suffering as an act of total solidarity with the pain of the world.  Jesus embraced suffering, not as a punishment, but because he wanted to understand our pain – the pain of the world.”    The cross represents Jesus’ full and complete solidarity with the brokenness of the world, the inevitability of death, and pain that you and I feel.  There is no pain Jesus has not felt, there is no sin that Christ has not forgiven, there is no death Christ has not touched.

Here is the unapologetic, gut-wrenching, heart-rending truth: to have a true and meaningful life, we have to die many necessary deaths.  We must go through many crucifixions. There is no other way.   It is only through these necessary deaths that our souls grow deeper.  Saints like John of the Cross or Teresa of Avila called these necessary deaths the dark nights of the soul.  They are often seasons of doubt, confusion, pain, or depression, anguish, intense feelings of vulnerability.  They are extremely uncomfortable, and they are unavoidable. 

Sadly, our society lacks even the most basic spiritual skills to deal with the kind of pain Jesus faced at the cross and the kind of necessary dying we must do ourselves.  The best mechanism our culture has to offer for spiritual pain is distraction.  We distract ourselves with 24-hour news, with politics, and with our own self-manufactured misery. The devil is going to try to make you sin, but if he cannot do that, he will happily settle for just keeping you distracted. 

Following Jesus to the cross means letting go of your distraction.  It means letting go of the regrets from your past and letting go of your fears of the future.  Jesus’ way is to embrace reality at all costs. 

That is the reason for so many empty pews on Good Friday – reality kind of sucks.  It is painful and hard.  Few of us are courageous enough to face the stark reality – Christ’s reality – which is that there are parts within each of us that need to die, so that we can truly live.  AMEN