The next three days are tough. Here we find the variance of perspectives on who Jesus of Nazareth was and who the Christ is. Some live on today and see a man die in one of the more creatively brutal institutional forms of execution devised by members the human race. Others live in tomorrow, the day after, when aftermath seeps into the heart, mind, and gut. Many say they live on Sunday, with an empty tomb. I know people who have lived on all three days. I have lived on each of these days. There is wonder and amazement on each of these days. Each of these days is shock.
Good Friday is when we watch the act of death take place, so many kinds of death. It is the day when all expectations are lost. Everything is lost. We see our hope die before us. We see our end, our telos and our ultimus. We are to die. And what other day in the year reminds us that we will?
Today, we must remember that everything is lost. Everything is ashes, burnt palm fronds. This is our apocalypse. Today. The match was struck last night and the fuse ran all night long. The bomb explodes today. On Ash Wednesday, we remembered that from dust we were created and to dust we shall return. Today, we become dust. Jesus of Nazareth becomes dust. Our end is before us on the cross.
Don't sugarcoat the day. Don't look so expectantly to Easter. It's lazy to do so. The Disciples didn't. Every Good Friday should be like the first Good Friday, without the expectation of Easter, yet with the expectation of Easter.
Today is every loved one's death we've ever experienced. Every loss and mourning of life we've ever had. Today is the day of ache, before the numbness sets in.