Homily: Good Friday of the Lord's Passion

Deacon Tony Cecil Homily: Good Friday of the Lord’s Passion

Saint James Catholic Church, Elizabethtown, KY

It can be hard to see what is good.

The weather has been a little crazy lately, which also means that my allergies have been a bit out of control.

We turn on the news to see stories of school shootings, struggles between our teachers and our government, and poverty and violence in our neighborhoods.

Many of us are probably stressing out about the family and friends that are coming into town this weekend—we’re thinking about all the work that is going to go into hosting them, or perhaps even the conflicts that will inevitably happen between certain members of the group.

Some of us have problems at work or at home that keep our minds racing.

Many of us have to-do lists so long that it is intimidating to even go near it.

Some have trouble falling asleep at night because of all that is happening in the world around us.

And, so, here we are—we come to Church this night on a day that is called “good,” and we hear about our God being mocked, tortured, beaten, and killed.

Fantastic.

What is all of this supposed to be about?

Where is the good?

What is supposed to be so great about a day that seems to be anything but?

On a Good Friday many years ago, I was a child sitting in the pew of a small, country parish, next to my dad after the long Passion reading had concluded. The priest, who was famous for his short masses and brevity of words, moved from altar to ambo to deliver his homily:

A new movie called the Passion of the Christ is out. Watch it.

And he sat down.

That was it! That was his entire homily!

So we did what he said, my dad and I watched that movie. And, like most other people, there were parts that we couldn’t bear to watch—there were parts that caused us to turn our heads—there were parts that caused tears to well up in our eyes.

And then, there was a single line that stood out to me in a very profound way—and has every time I have watched that movie since.

As Jesus is carrying his cross, he encounters his mother, Mary. Not knowing what to say in the midst of the emotion, she runs to Jesus to say, “I’m here!” — Jesus lifts his head, looks his sorrowful mother in the eyes, and says,

“See, Mother, I make all things new.”

See, Mother, I make all things new.

That single line, my friends, is the key to this day. It is here—in Jesus making all things new—that goodness is found in abundance on a day when it can be so hard for us to see.

Today, we journey with Jesus to Calvary, and we see him making all things new:

• Jesus accepts a death he doesn’t deserve, enabling another person to be set free.

• Jesus takes the forced help of a man named Simon, and changes his life forever.

• Jesus takes on the hatred and persecution of others, and transforms it into an opportunity to forgive.

• Jesus sees his Mother’s sorrow, and gives to her his beloved disciple, and through him, all of us, to love and to protect for all of eternity.

• Jesus takes our sins in the form of thorns in his head and nails in his hands and feet, and turns them into channels through which he can pour out his love.

• Jesus proclaims his thirst—but no ordinary thirst—not a thirst for a sip of water or a drink from a wine-soaked sponge—but a thirst for souls that are weary, distraught, and lost—souls that are—yours and mine.

• Jesus takes an instrument of torture and death, and carrying it up Calvary hill, uses it as a battering ram to break open the gates of heaven that had been thrown shut by our turning away from God.

• Jesus takes his last breath——and uses it to cry out “It is Finished!” because it was true—the grip that evil had on the world was finished; the evil one’s reign of terror was finished; the time of our anxieties, fears, and worries controlling us was finished.

See, Mother, I make all things new.

And in his making all things new, we experience something—astounding.

We see that, we, too, are made new—because of what He has done for us.

For when we look upon Christ on the Cross, we don’t see a gruesome death—we don’t see an instrument of torture—we don’t see a depressing scene.

Rather, we see a man whose arms are outstretched in the most pure love that could ever be shown.

We see Jesus hanging on the Cross—and we know that he did it for us—we know that, at some point, he thought of us while he hung on that Cross—we understand that we were what he thirsted for—and that it was this love for us that kept him going.

And when we realize that, nothing else seems to matter.

The bad weather doesn’t really matter.

The bad news doesn’t really matter.

The worries and woes don’t really matter.

The anxieties and fears don’t really matter.

The to-do lists don’t really matter.

The arguments and conflicts don’t really matter.

The problems that keep us up at night don’t really matter.

None of it matters—because in the end, we are here—we are here in this sacred place to remember what he did for us—and when we do so, when we recognize what does really matter, everything else seems to fade away.

See, Mother, I make all things new.

Lord, help us to see that truth.

Lord, help our hearts to be like yours.

Lord, help us to love as you love.

Lord, help us to thirst for you as you thirst for us.

Lord—make us new.

#homily #goodfriday