How the Hell can it be Good Friday?
That's a loaded question isn't it? Let me ask it again...
How the Hell can it be Good Friday?
GASP! clutching pearls!
(I promise you my mother is saying my name in great consternation that I started this post swearing. "Hol-LY!" She draws out the LY so it sounds like my name is Hol-Leeeeee.)
Seriously, how are we here? And why do we call it Good Friday?
In a time when nothing, absolutely nothing, seems good right now.
A Pandemic for heaven's sake. People around the world are dying by something we haven't, as a collective global people, haven't been able to stop. It's downright scary. We're not used to not being the conquerors of all things.
Death is around us. Grief and loss is a part of the daily conversation. We are losing jobs. We are grieving summer vacations that won't be taken. Savings accounts and retirements seemingly gone overnight. Relationships changing because of our apart-ness. Loneliness and alone-ness that brings its own sets of emotions.
And yet life is still going on...bills need paid, kids need taught, meals need prepared and relationships need nurtured all under this weighted blanket of not knowing what next month will look like.
How can any of that be good?
Oh, and by the way, you're also supposed to be celebrating Easter week.
How can it be good?
Good Friday.
Why is it called Good Friday? I didn't grow up in a church tradition that celebrated Easter Week in the traditional Christian sense. Oh, we got the new dress and the white patent leather shoes! Don't lament for me. Though there is one suspicious picture of us on Easter Sunday where my sisters and I are clearly wearing new Easter dresses, but two of us have on big clunky boat shoes. This picture alone leads me to believe my mom most definitely went through a "today I'm choosing my battles" stage.
We dyed the eggs, fought over the Reese's peanut butter eggs and had a good ol' fashioned southern fried Easter dinner. AND! And depending on the how the song leader was feeling that day, we might've even sung "Up from the grave he arose!" but only coincidentally, not because we were recognizing THAT particular Sunday as a holiday.
The first time I ever had ashes applied to my forward and someone whisper to me "Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return" I was thirty years old. I wasn't sure what to expect when I walked in to church that evening, but I certainly didn't expect my eyes to turn on streaming tears that wouldn't end. My eyes were literally like a leaking faucet that couldn't be fixed. It wasn't even crying. I didn't get a runny nose or snotty or feel like I needed to step away from the moment. It was more like my soul recognized the Holy Spirit in the very act of worship that night and the only way it could be expressed was by streaming tears. It was so pure and holy and peaceful. Later that evening I was so sad thinking about how many years I had missed out on that blessed ritual. I was grieving what I never knew I had been missing.
All of that is to say that, because I didn't grow up in a church tradition that formally celebrated Easter on the Christian calendar, I've had a bit of learning curve around the rituals and traditions.
Nearly every year I feel like I have to ask again "Wait. Why is it called Good Friday?" The most common response is "Good Friday is good because Jesus showed his love for us and died on the cross for our salvation."
While that's true, it feels like such a cop out answer to me. It's trite. It feels akin to saying to the new widow who is grief stricken and not sure how she's standing next to a casket "God just needed him more than we did." To the friend who was just diagnosed with cancer and worried who will teach his son to whistle, "Just remember everything happens for a reason and you'll get through this." To the parent who just lost a child to an overdose "Now you have an angel watching over you."
I promise you, the recipient of any of those stock responses, while they might have nodded and said thank you, internally they were screaming "SHUT UP! NO THAT ISN'T TRUE. I DON'T WANT AN ANGEL! I WANT MY BABY HERE ON EARTH!" "ARE YOU CRAZY? Did you really just say that to me? I was just given a death sentence and all you can think to say is it's happening to me for a REASON?!"
Turns out the origin of the term "Good Friday" is actually unclear. Some say Good in this context was interchanged with the word Holy. Holy Friday. In Germany they refer to it as Gute Freitag. God's Friday. Or Karfreitag. Sorrowful Friday. The Danish refer to is Langfredag. Long Friday.
Long Friday. That one makes sense to me. It's Long Friday because we are grieving.
It's Long Friday because this year, this Easter season has been long and lonely and filled with so many unknowns and losses.
It's Long Friday because today we face another day staying home. Sheltering in place. Another day wondering how we will come out of the other side of this.
It's Long Friday because we're tired. And we're sad. Some of us are scared and many of us ache for the company of others.
It's Long Friday because yesterday a man crawled upon a cross, spread out his arms, leaned his head against thorns and died. For me. For you.
It's Sorrowful Friday because we're grieving.
That's a loaded question isn't it? Let me ask it again...
How the Hell can it be Good Friday?
GASP! clutching pearls!
(I promise you my mother is saying my name in great consternation that I started this post swearing. "Hol-LY!" She draws out the LY so it sounds like my name is Hol-Leeeeee.)
Seriously, how are we here? And why do we call it Good Friday?
In a time when nothing, absolutely nothing, seems good right now.
A Pandemic for heaven's sake. People around the world are dying by something we haven't, as a collective global people, haven't been able to stop. It's downright scary. We're not used to not being the conquerors of all things.
Death is around us. Grief and loss is a part of the daily conversation. We are losing jobs. We are grieving summer vacations that won't be taken. Savings accounts and retirements seemingly gone overnight. Relationships changing because of our apart-ness. Loneliness and alone-ness that brings its own sets of emotions.
And yet life is still going on...bills need paid, kids need taught, meals need prepared and relationships need nurtured all under this weighted blanket of not knowing what next month will look like.
How can any of that be good?
Oh, and by the way, you're also supposed to be celebrating Easter week.
How can it be good?
Good Friday.
Why is it called Good Friday? I didn't grow up in a church tradition that celebrated Easter Week in the traditional Christian sense. Oh, we got the new dress and the white patent leather shoes! Don't lament for me. Though there is one suspicious picture of us on Easter Sunday where my sisters and I are clearly wearing new Easter dresses, but two of us have on big clunky boat shoes. This picture alone leads me to believe my mom most definitely went through a "today I'm choosing my battles" stage.
 |
| Check it. White tights and those SHOES! Not gonna lie though, my coat is killer! |
We dyed the eggs, fought over the Reese's peanut butter eggs and had a good ol' fashioned southern fried Easter dinner. AND! And depending on the how the song leader was feeling that day, we might've even sung "Up from the grave he arose!" but only coincidentally, not because we were recognizing THAT particular Sunday as a holiday.
The first time I ever had ashes applied to my forward and someone whisper to me "Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return" I was thirty years old. I wasn't sure what to expect when I walked in to church that evening, but I certainly didn't expect my eyes to turn on streaming tears that wouldn't end. My eyes were literally like a leaking faucet that couldn't be fixed. It wasn't even crying. I didn't get a runny nose or snotty or feel like I needed to step away from the moment. It was more like my soul recognized the Holy Spirit in the very act of worship that night and the only way it could be expressed was by streaming tears. It was so pure and holy and peaceful. Later that evening I was so sad thinking about how many years I had missed out on that blessed ritual. I was grieving what I never knew I had been missing.
All of that is to say that, because I didn't grow up in a church tradition that formally celebrated Easter on the Christian calendar, I've had a bit of learning curve around the rituals and traditions.
Nearly every year I feel like I have to ask again "Wait. Why is it called Good Friday?" The most common response is "Good Friday is good because Jesus showed his love for us and died on the cross for our salvation."
While that's true, it feels like such a cop out answer to me. It's trite. It feels akin to saying to the new widow who is grief stricken and not sure how she's standing next to a casket "God just needed him more than we did." To the friend who was just diagnosed with cancer and worried who will teach his son to whistle, "Just remember everything happens for a reason and you'll get through this." To the parent who just lost a child to an overdose "Now you have an angel watching over you."
I promise you, the recipient of any of those stock responses, while they might have nodded and said thank you, internally they were screaming "SHUT UP! NO THAT ISN'T TRUE. I DON'T WANT AN ANGEL! I WANT MY BABY HERE ON EARTH!" "ARE YOU CRAZY? Did you really just say that to me? I was just given a death sentence and all you can think to say is it's happening to me for a REASON?!"
Turns out the origin of the term "Good Friday" is actually unclear. Some say Good in this context was interchanged with the word Holy. Holy Friday. In Germany they refer to it as Gute Freitag. God's Friday. Or Karfreitag. Sorrowful Friday. The Danish refer to is Langfredag. Long Friday.
Long Friday. That one makes sense to me. It's Long Friday because we are grieving.
It's Long Friday because this year, this Easter season has been long and lonely and filled with so many unknowns and losses.
It's Long Friday because today we face another day staying home. Sheltering in place. Another day wondering how we will come out of the other side of this.
It's Long Friday because we're tired. And we're sad. Some of us are scared and many of us ache for the company of others.
It's Long Friday because yesterday a man crawled upon a cross, spread out his arms, leaned his head against thorns and died. For me. For you.
It's Sorrowful Friday because we're grieving.
And grief takes time. Grieving takes time. It makes the days long and the nights longer. And the thing about grief is if you don't acknowledge her, she won't go away. She hangs around like a bad house guest who has outworn her welcome. Grief takes time. And Grief takes time. Grieving is so important in the process of healing. Grieving is good for us. In its sorrow and dark, long roads, grieving is Good.
So today is Sorrowful Friday.
Today is Long Friday.
Today is Holy Friday.
Today is Good Friday.
So today is Sorrowful Friday.
Today is Long Friday.
Today is Holy Friday.
Today is Good Friday.