Good Friday of the Lord’s Passion Part 2 of Triduum 2020 April 10, 2020
Fr. Albert St. John the Evangelist, Jeanerette
Video of entire Service: https://youtu.be/k8EE0pJbQP4
Though there is a crowd this time, it is still only a few who actually have access to Jesus on the Cross. Instead of twelve men, it is mostly women, Jesus’ mother the most notable among them. Of the select few chosen to represent us all at the Last Supper, only one is also present to represent us at the foot of the Cross.
Perhaps this time few would complain about fairness. Sharing a feast with Jesus? That is something people want. Witnessing his brutal and bloody death up close and personal? Not so much. And yet, we know that this moment is more privileged than the Last Supper. More privileged because it is in fact what gives the Last Supper any value at all, this offering of his body on the Cross is what makes it possible for Jesus to offer his body to the Apostles, and to us, in the Eucharist.
Exclusive access to suffering, to the most important suffering there ever was or ever will be. This is the character of today, Good Friday. John the Evangelist, the Apostle, the Beloved Disciple – patron of our parish – willingly accepts this access. His name is actually left out precisely so that we can see ourselves in that description: “the disciple whom Jesus loved.” Which disciple did Jesus not love? Even Judas was loved, though he rejected it. Though you were not there then, though you are not here now, you are represented by the beloved disciple.
What’s most poignant about this exclusivity is how it’s echoed in countless bedrooms and hospital rooms throughout the world right now. With the severity of the contagion, only a privileged few have access to our loved ones as they die from this disease. How many die with only an unknown and masked medical professional in attendance? How many die alone!?
That’s what isn’t fair! To be excluded from the final moments of my loved one’s life? Though we cannot stop them from dying – just as the apostles could not save Jesus’ life – should we not at least have the chance to be with them? To have access to their suffering and death in the form of compassionate presence? But we do not. As with the Last Supper, representation, the chain of personal contact and particular relationships is our access to what is ultimately a universal reality. That reality is a death which leads to eternal life.
Once again, I am – undeservingly – blessed with access many do not have. When doctors can do no more, I am granted permission, with precaution, to enter these rooms and homes, to offer the final comforts of the Church… and to represent you, their loved ones who cannot be there. So, in a way, you are there as you are at the Cross through the disciple whom Jesus loves and through the celebration of the Mass offered without ceasing around the world.
The faith required to accept this representation is greater than when you can be there. Like the sudden faith of the thief on the Cross who asks to enter a Kingdom he cannot see after a lifetime of sin, which is a far greater disease than any which can kill the body. Learn from that faith and know that all have access to the redemptive suffering of Christ in spirit and physically in the few who represent you now.
Truly, I wish I could offer you physical, sacramental communion. I wish you too could kiss the relic of the Cross that we will soon reverence. But I cannot. I can, however, offer you the same thing Christ offered his disciple: His own Mother. Beyond just seeing to her temporal needs, Jesus is giving her to all his disciples, to the whole Church. You can take her hand by taking up your rosary, one physical connection you can still make.
Turn to Mary now who knows better than any the pain of losing one they love. To Mary whose compassion allowed her the greatest and most complete access to Christ’s redemptive suffering. To Mary, who alone shares in the bodily resurrection that will come to us all at the end of time. Through her motherly heart, you will find your access the exclusive torments of Christ, the sweet sufferings that are our only hope.