When I was a kid, and an altar server, Holy Week was a busy time. Palm Sunday, the Blessing of the Oils, Holy Thursday, and then, Good Friday.
I used to think it was the most poorly named anything in the history of everything, until I learned that etymologically, the 'good' in this context, was an evolved form of 'God', meaning that the day ought really be considered 'God Friday'. Or perhaps, God's Friday. Which is interesting, in that the event the day commemorates belongs as much to humanity as it does to God, I think.
I was always struck by the image in the Good Friday Mass of the Bishop (in my time, it was Bishop - later Archbishop - Hickey) lying prostrate in supplication, stripped of his (outer) episcopal vestments. To a kid, the image of a Bishop laying on the ground in the middle of mass was striking. Significant. Powerful.
I've often thought of Good Friday with mixed feelings. It's an image of self-sacrifice, ideally taken to be the ultimate act of selfless love. And yet, there's more to it, I think.
The band, James, once wrote a song called 'One of the Three', which mused on Christ and his position in the Trinity. In it, the lyric first suggests that Christ is the only one of the three to 'find some peace', before shifting more reproachfully (and controversially) to argue that 'you knew they'd come for you, so it was suicide'. I find this hard to accept of itself, but it does acknowledge that the line between a necessary sacrifice and needless martyrdom can be very thin, and very blurry. I don't think it is in this case, but it's an important point nevertheless. I know I would die for my family. Is it logical, then to say I would not die to try and save everyone? Yes, the definition here of 'save' is a open one. And it might not be completely closable, either.
I've often considered Good Friday as a catalyst for reflecting on the death and resurrection. I'm not a literalist, so I tend to see this more in terms of a death, a period of mourning, and then the rise of message in the hearts, minds and hands of those who loved Jesus and learned so much from him. The following, the listening, the sharing. The giving, the receiving, the departure. The internalising, the ritualising, and once more, the following. It's incredible how many archetypal cultural narratives play out this way.
And if one's reading of the resurrection is more literal, it is no less inspiring and valid to one who struggles to conceive of the miraculous in such terms. The idea that in perfection we are above even death is the apotheosis of aspirational ideology, and again, this is central to a great many essential stories. There is nothing wrong with endlessly striving for the unreachable. There is no endpoint for love, or for knowledge. And yet we strive, one and all.
It's often struck me as amusing that people are quite comfortable suspending disbelief in watching a 22 film cinematic saga play out, with an 'endgame' that is almost certain to involve not only resurrection, but temporal trickery to boot, but struggle with the Bible's implausibility. The counter argument is of course, that Marvel doesn't purport to be telling stories of 'fact'. Well, I'm not sure too many Christians - who've got anything more than the most cursory understanding of history and the bible itself - would see all Christian story as 'fact' either. And even with that being said, stories - all stories, Biblical or otherwise - have always been more about truth than fact, anyways. Truth can be pretty elusive. Personally, I'm happy to take it where I can find it.
In the brilliant play (and film) 'The Lion in Winter' concerning the troubled life of King Henry II, there is an exchange between two characters that I'll never forget. One, Geoffrey says to his companion, Richard, 'You fool! As if it matters how a man falls". Richard, who is soon to be executed, replies "When the fall is all there is, it matters."
Such is the poignancy of how we might one day face death. We have Christ's example to ponder. Who can say if He knew resurrection was a foregone conclusion? Somehow, I don't think He did. And even if so, the suffering was real. That life itself is suffering is a central Buddhist tenet, and that in essence, it should be lived in preparation for death. It's easy to think this a pretty maudlin sentiment, yet really, the YOLO catch-cry is really saying exactly the same thing (if not quite so elegantly).
Good Friday is a day that always gets me thinking. I think that's a good thing.
Maybe the name isn't so silly after all.
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