Sorrowful Friday

By Rev. Heather J. Blais, Rector

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There are many names for Good Friday.* In Greek Christianity, today is called ‘the Holy and Great Friday’. In Romance languages today is ‘Holy Friday’. In German it is ‘Sorrowful Friday’. Our own English ‘Good Friday’ may derive from ‘God’s Friday.’ Each one of these names captures some essence of the meaning of this day. 

This year, ‘Sorrowful Friday’ seems most appropriate to me. In an immediate sense, there is a real devastation, cruelty, violence, and oppression happening in our world that must make God weep. We know our neighbors in Gaza and throughout the Holy Land, Ukraine, Russia, and Sudan are having basic human rights and dignity ignored and violated.  Closer to home, we witness neighbors divided by politics in a way we have not seen in generations, and a growing concern of whether our democracy will be able to endure this chapter in our nation’s history. To speak nothing of our neighbors plagued by poverty; hunger; inadequate housing and healthcare; discrimination; and living with the environmental ramifications of the climate crisis. Sorrowful Friday, indeed. 

Another reason this day is ‘Sorrowful’, is that historically it has been ripe with anti-semitism. As Bishop Fisher wrote in a letter to clergy in March 2023:

“…acts of violence in synagogues and threats of such violence are on the rise. It is more critical than ever to renounce the historic antisemitism that has endangered our Jewish sisters and brothers since the foundation of Christianity…. Repentance is not just sorrow for sin, but a willingness to change. It is time for us to change how we pray on the day in which Jesus showed us the depths of God's love.”

On this day, more than any other, as a Church we need to renounce the role of Christianity in anti-semitism by being willing to change how we think about this day, the readings, and the liturgy itself.  In the Anglican tradition, we believe that ‘praying shapes believing’. To this end, our parish is joining many others for a second year in using an Alternative Good Friday liturgy approved for trial use in the Episcopal Church. 

In John’s Gospel, the culpability of a few religious leaders aligned with the emperor has been transferred to all Jews, always. This is reflected again and again by references to ‘the Jews’. As you probably noticed, on this day we shifted to saying ‘the Judeans’. This shift moves away from holding an entire religion responsible for Jesus’ crucifixion. While there’s been some conversation about making similar changes throughout John’s Gospel, Jewish scholars like Amy Jill-Levine caution the Church against eliminating ‘the Jews’ altogether. Primarily because it would risk Christians not realizing that Jesus and his disciples were Jewish themselves.

Our own Good Friday liturgy has historically exasperated anti-Judaism, which is a general aversion to the Jewish religion,  whereas anti-semitism is aversion towards Jews as a racial or ethnic group. Early versions of the Solemn Collects addressed Jewish unbelief, altogether forgetting the Jewish people have been and continue to be in covenant with God. In the revised version of the collects that we will pray today, we recognize Jesus was a faithful Jew, that God’s covenant with Jews remains, and pray for the continuing flourishing and safety of Jews. The collects also acknowledge Christian harm done to Jews, and envisions Jewish and Christian cooperation for the sake of the world. While there is much to be ‘Sorrowful’ about the Church’s role in perpetuating anti-Judaism and anti-semitism, these changes are one small way we can repent, changing our ways and perspective.  

In the most familiar sense, it is ‘Sorrowful Friday’ because Jesus died on the cross. 
Not because God required the sacrifice for our ‘sinfulness’ in an act of atonement. Rather, because of our corporate human brokenness. Scholars Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan describe it as ‘human inevitability’. They write in The Last Week:

“Was the death of Jesus the will of God? No. It is never the will of God that a righteous man be crucified. It might have turned out differently… But for another reason the execution of Jesus was virtually inevitable. Not because of divine necessity, but because of human inevitability - this is what domination systems did to people who publicly and vigorously challenged them.”*

The Roman Empire is merely one of many domination systems throughout human history that has used violence and oppression to suppress communities into submission. They were not unique or particularly horrible compared to other empires. What they were was another example of what it looks like when power and greed override compassion and neighborly love.  A small group of Jewish leaders aligned with the Roman authorities. By becoming local collaborators, they were given the benefit of a small military force, and joined Rome in oppressing the Jewish people. 

Jesus was a nonviolent revolutionary passionate about God’s dream for this world. 
The vision he upheld for God’s world inherently stood against dominant systems of oppression and violence. Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan put it this way:

“...if one lives for divine justice in a world that belongs to God, one will usually die a violent death from human injustice in a world that refuses recognition of such ownership.”* 

In other words, Jesus was a rebel working for divine justice and stood against imperial authority.  It is for this reason his death was by crucifixion, which was a form of capital punishment generally held for rebels who did not accept Roman authority. 

The passion narrative itself is full of sorrow. The sorrow of Judas’ betrayal and Peter’s denial. The sorrow and helplessness of the women standing by the cross, bearing witness to a young man’s life being stripped away from him and those he loved by imperial authority. The pain and grief of Jesus bidding his mother farewell, and asking his disciple and friend to care for her as his own mother. The mixture of sorrow and gratitude Joseph of Arimathea must have felt that Jesus’ body was intact enough to be taken down for burial. So often those who died by crucifixion were placed lower to the ground, giving birds and wild dogs access, and leaving the remains unrecognizable.  The love and sorrow of Nicodemus as he anointed Jesus' body for burial in a manner fit for a king. Sorrowful Friday, indeed. 

As we continue our way through this evening’s liturgy, I would invite us to reflect:

• What part of this day or Jesus’ life do we see differently this year?
  

• What makes this day sorrowful for us?
  

• How has Jesus’ revolutionary acts of love and his inevitable death changed us?
  

Amen. 



* The points made in this paragraph are referencing Marcus J. Borg and John Dominic Crossan book, The Last Week, p. 137, 161, 118.