Thoughts for Good Friday

Today is Good Friday, and I wanted some good, old-fashioned, hardcore, high-church solemnity. So, I went to Catholic church. Not even just Catholic church, but the cathedral of the diocese of Atlanta.

The solemnity was somewhat broken up by the toddler in the pew in front of me happily shrieking and touching everything within an arm's-length radius, but it had all the necessary parts: the canted psalms, the good ten minutes of standing and kneeling, the veneration of the cross (that was a little awkward for me, I won't lie), the homily about our own betrayal of Jesus. I like some guilt and solemnity now and then. Clearly not everyone shares my opinion, or Joel Osteen would be poor. But, at least judging from today's Facebook statuses, a lot of people do. What is it about the guilt and darkness that draws us?

Last year at this time, I was having a horrible semester for a combination of a lot of little reasons. I needed Lent then. In fact, I wasn't sure I was so keen on Easter. It didn't feel like Easter. If I could have stayed in the darkness of Good Friday for a little longer and kept Easter as the light on the horizon, I might have. I like the days of guilt and darkness and solemnity because often they acknowledge liturgically what is already present. They validate our brokenness. They make it holy.

This semester has been a good one. It's had its moments to be sure, but on the whole, much closer to Easter than Good Friday. Still, the brokenness is never very far away. Even if it feels like Easter already, it's good to remember what we've been through. Because there will come a time again when it won't feel like Easter, and then we will have rehearsed this. We'll know that death and life come very close together.

The bulletin made a note at the end that there would be no concluding rites after communion. The church would remain in prayer during the Triduum. I liked it. It was like a way of saying, we're not going to conclude this, because it's not over yet. We've spent time in solemnity and we leave in silence, but it's not over yet. We've acknowledged our brokenness like we want and need to, but it's not over yet. We wait still for the redemption and newness of Easter. But it's not over till we get there.