Good Friday: Love That Suffers and Stays

 

Good Friday does not rush. It does not explain. It does not defend or tidy up.

It simply stays.

It stays at the foot of the Cross, while the world darkens and love bleeds.

Good Friday is not a performance. It is an invitation to be present to a sorrow that does not resolve neatly, to a love so deep it chose the nails.

Through the mystery of the Church's liturgy, we are not just remembering a death that happened long ago. We are standing inside the hour when God laid down His life for love of us.

Let's walk slowly. Let's not look away.

The Solemn Entrance: Silence That Speaks

Good Friday begins not with music, not with words, but with a profound, aching silence.

The priest and ministers process in and then fall to the ground in full prostration before the stripped altar. The people kneel.

The silence says everything.

What it looks like to me: When I kneel in that silence, I feel the world hold its breath. I feel the weight of every wound, every grief. I feel how desperately we need a Savior.

A way to live it: Let the silence open your heart. Do not fill it too quickly with words. Let your heart break a little.

The Passion: Love That Pours Itself Out

The Gospel of John is proclaimed slowly, unhurriedly. Every word of Christ's Passion is spoken aloud: the betrayal, the arrest, the denials, the trial, the scourging, the way of the Cross.

There are no shortcuts. No quick resolutions.

We walk each step with Him.

Some churches include a dramatic reading, with different voices. Others chant it in a haunting, almost otherworldly tone. However it is proclaimed, the weight of it sinks into the bones.

What it looks like to me: I listen for the sound of the whip. I hear the crowd shouting for Barabbas. I see His eyes, steady and sorrowful, meeting mine across centuries.

A way to live it: When you hear the Passion today, don't just "listen to a story." Stand within it. Let yourself be known by the One who carries every sorrow for you.

The Great Intercessions: A World Laid Bare

After the Passion, the Church prays the Great Intercessions — prayers for the Church, for the world, for the suffering, for the unbelievers, for all.

It is the most expansive moment of the year: the Church lifts up the whole wounded world to the mercy of Christ.

What it looks like to me: As each intercession is sung or spoken, I imagine the prayers rising like incense from every corner of the earth — from hospital beds, from broken homes, from lonely streets, from secret prayers whispered by those who don’t even know they believe.

A way to live it: Offer your own hidden intentions. No suffering is too small to be brought to the Cross.

The Veneration of the Cross: Love That Stretches Wide

Then comes the most intimate moment: the Veneration of the Cross.

The Cross is brought forward, usually veiled. Slowly, it is unveiled, piece by piece:

• "Behold the wood of the Cross, on which hung the salvation of the world."

• "Come, let us adore."

The people approach one by one — to touch, to kiss, to kneel.

It is not an idol we adore. It is the instrument of love’s victory.

What it looks like to me: When I kneel before the Cross, I see not only Christ's wounds, but the wounds He carries for me. I see the bruises I have caused, and the healing He pours out.

I kiss the Cross with trembling, grateful lips.

A way to live it: Venerate with your whole heart. Bring your weariness. Bring your sin. Bring your longing. Lay it all at the foot of Love.

The Stations of the Cross: Walking the Road Beside Him

Many parishes pray the Stations of the Cross on Good Friday. We follow Jesus through the 14 stations:

• His condemnation

• His falls

• His meeting with His Mother

• Simon helping Him

• Veronica offering her veil

• The crucifixion and death

Each station is a step deeper into His suffering and His mercy.

What it looks like to me: At each Station, I find myself not only witnessing, but accompanying. I become Simon, Veronica, the weeping women. I become the beloved disciple. I become the one Christ looks at with mercy.

A way to live it: Walk the Stations slowly. Let your heart break and be remade at each stop.

The Silence: Love That Holds the World

Good Friday ends without a final blessing.

There is no dismissal.

We leave in silence.

The Church herself seems to hold her breath, waiting.

What it looks like to me: As I walk out into the dimming day, I feel the world tilting, waiting for something it cannot name. The ache of absence is real. And it is holy.

A way to live it: Let the silence linger. Do not rush to distract yourself. Carry the weight of Love into the hours that follow.

Closing

Good Friday is not a day to "fix" anything.

It is a day to stay.

Stay at the Cross.

Stay with Love.

Stay with the One who stayed for you.

Stay with the pierced hands that still bless.

Stay with the broken heart that still beats for you.

Stay until the silence speaks, until grief births hope, until death begins to tremble.

Stay.

He stayed for you.