Good Friday

Friday – the day he trudged through the streets of Jerusalem with the heavy weight of the cross upon his torn back, laid open by the thirty-nine lashes from a cat-of-nine tails. With those who just six days before who had greeted him in these same streets with palm leaves shouting out, “Hosanna! Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!” now screaming obscenities and spitting on him as he labors through the mass of bodies that line the narrow street. He stumbles, the wood from the cross tearing into his raw and mangled back, slivers of wood driving deeply into his flesh. He raises his trembling hand to wipe a mixture of sweat and blood from his eyes as he feels the thorns from the “crown” they placed upon his head pressing more deeply into his brow as the cross shifts against him. The sweat burns his cheeks as it touches where just hours before, his beard had been plucked from his face. One of the Roman guards pulls a man named Simon, a Cyrenian, from the crowd and compels him to carry the cross for Jesus the rest of the way to Calvary.

As they prepared to crucify him, they lay him down upon the cross. They drive nails through his hands and feet, his flesh opening to receive them. With every blow of the hammer, his love for us is shown, as he lays there, without complaint, knowing that this is the way of salvation for all mankind. As they raise the cross and gravity pulls upon his body, as they drop the cross into place, jolting his hands and feet where they are nailed, crushing the crown of thorns even more deeply into his head, sending more fragments of wood further into his bloody back, he simply says, “Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.” A simple, yet powerful request from a life lived that exemplifies forgiveness and unwavering love. They pull his clothes from his body, leaving him naked and exposed…as a final insult and indignity for the Son of God. They mock him and knowing he is thirsty, they offer him vinegar to drink.

It is only the sixth hour of the day…what is this great darkness that has blotted out the light from the face of the earth? Could this be creation trying to clothe his nakedness in darkness? For three hours this darkness remains. There is talk amongst the people…the veil in the temple ripped in two…from the top to the bottom by some unseen force. What does this foretell? Then, Jesus speaks saying, “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” Those are his final words, as his body succumbs into death. A soldier pierces his side to ensure that he is dead and blood and water flow from the wound.

Joseph, of Arimathaea, a just and good man, makes provision for the body of Jesus to be buried in a tomb he owns. As the men gently lay his body on the cold stone, the women leave to prepare spices and ointments for his burial.

© Melissa A. Gustafson April 6, 2007