Triduum: Good Friday

Prelude:

Until my Holy Thursday homily, I hadn't written anything since the coronavirus restrictions were put in place. Beyond not blogging, I have severely restricted my activity on other social media platforms. A big reason for this, frankly, is not really knowing what to say in the face of something this huge. It's okay not to know what to say. But with the Triduum here now and with my adjustment to circumstances, I hope to post more regularly.

Nonetheless, I am glad I took a pause and let reality sink in a bit. I don't mind admitting that I felt completely overwhelmed for about a week. I also realize that especially now there are so many things on-line that many people are positively drowning in options. As I have for the entire 15+ years of this blog, I urge you, dear reader, to take my offerings for what they're worth to you. As I have stated multiple times, if blogging did not benefit me personally, quite apart from the response of others, I wouldn't do it. There's something about seeing one's thoughts in objective form that helps to refine, clarify, and sharpen them.

I long ago gave up weighing in on the controversies of the day be they political, ecclesial, or cultural. Opinions are like bellybuttons; everyone has one. Of course, not all opinions are equal. But nobody's opinion is infallible, unless you are the Supreme Pontiff speaking ex cathedra on a matter of faith and morals. The world hasn't had one of those since 1950!

I don't mind admitting that I like to argue. Arguing is not a bad thing in and of itself. Arguments can be civil and robust. As a recent unpleasant experience showed me (again), most people, thinking their opinion unassailable, do not like to be challenged and take umbrage when anyone deigns to challenge them. Hence, arguing on-line is a waste of time. I don't mind stating my opinion that our loss of the ability to argue is one of the things that plagues us. We seem content to dictate to others what they should think instead of developing the robust ability to think.

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Like a lot of people, I have appreciated Pope Francis's worldwide pastoral care during this unusual time. I particularly benefited from his astounding Urbi et Orbi liturgy, which he celebrated mainly in a rainy and empty Saint Peter's Square. Participating in this virtually was what enabled me to regain my equilibrium. In his homily, the Holy Father said something that spoke to me directly, something that spoke to me about the fruitlessness of too much social media:

The tempest lays bare all our prepackaged ideas and forgetfulness of what nourishes our people’s souls; all those attempts that anesthetize us with ways of thinking and acting that supposedly “save” us, but instead prove incapable of putting us in touch with our roots and keeping alive the memory of those who have gone before us. We deprive ourselves of the antibodies we need to confront adversity

Ah, "the antibodies we need to confront adversity"! I need spiritual nourishment, not junk food.

Crucifixion, by Andrea del Castagno, ca. 1450

On this Good Friday, God answers our question: "Where are you in all this?" by pointing us to Jesus on the cross. He is present wherever there is suffering. This is made very clear in two passages from Sacred Scripture: "For it was fitting that he, for whom and through whom all things exist, in bringing many children to glory, should make the leader to their salvation perfect through suffering" (Hebrews 2:10) and "he humbled himself, becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross" (Phil 2:8). Jesus suffers with us, alongside us.

My friends, we are the thieves! Hence, the choice placed in front of us is to mock God's seeming powerlessness or recognize God's act of solidarity with us in our suffering.

Yesterday, I focused on the word "apocalypse," pointing out that it means to unveil something previously concealed. We must ask ourselves, "What are these circumstances revealing in me, about me?" This is a question that can only be answered in silence. What this worldwide pandemic has revealed writ large is our vulnerability, the fact that we're not as strong as we think we are. I say "revealed" because this has always been true, but it is a truth that we hid from ourselves, veiled, as it were.

On this Good Friday, as on every Good Friday, we are invited to overcome our fascination with nothingness and behold the Crucified. As we say as we genuflect before each Station of His Holy Cross- "We adore you, O Christ, and we bless you, because, by your holy Cross you have redeemed the world."