GOOD FRIDAY

The Cross, the Silence, and the Love That Did Not Leave

Scripture for the Day

“It is finished.”
—John 19:30

“Then Jesus, crying with a loud voice, said, ‘Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.’ Having said this, he breathed his last.”
—Luke 23:46

Sacred Invitation

There are no more stories left to tell.
No more teachings.
No more miracles.
No more bread broken in joy.

Today, the Word made flesh is broken.

This is the day Love is lifted up—
not on a throne,
but on a cross.
Naked. Bloodied. Alone.

The disciples scatter.
The crowd jeers.
The sky turns black.
The veil tears.

And the One who called the dead to rise
breathes his last breath.

This is not the day for answers.
This is not the day to move on too quickly.
This is the day to sit beneath the weight of it all
and say: “Even here… I will stay.”

Extended Reflection: A Day the Earth Remembers

Good Friday does not demand understanding.
It demands presence.

This is the day of the cross—
where power is redefined,
where justice is turned inside out,
where the innocent hangs condemned,
and the guilty walk free.

The cross is not just a symbol.
It is an event.
A rupture in time.
A love that refused to withdraw.

The One who could have called down angels
chooses instead to stay.

To bleed.
To forgive.
To entrust his spirit into the hands
of the One who seems absent.

And the earth remembers—
it quakes.
It groans.
It breaks open.

We may never fully understand what happened here.
But we know this:
It was not power that held him there.
It was love.

Somatic Practice: The Stillness Beneath the Cross

Find a quiet place.
Remove your shoes if you are able.
Sit on the floor or a low chair—something close to the ground.
Let your spine settle.
Let your shoulders drop.

Imagine yourself beneath the cross.

Say aloud:
“I am still here.”

Place your hand on your heart or your belly.
Feel your breath.
Let your body weep if it needs to.
Let your mind wander, and gently bring it back.

There is no right way to be with this grief.
There is only staying.

Let the silence become sacred.

Optional: A Ritual of Darkness (for the evening)

As night falls on Good Friday, gather seven candles if you have them.

Light all seven.
Then slowly, read aloud these final moments from the Gospels (Matthew 27, Mark 15, Luke 23, John 19).
After each passage, extinguish one candle.

Let the last one burn as long as you need.
Then sit in the darkness.
And say: “It is finished.”

Let the silence linger.
Let the dark be a place God is still present.

Closing Prayer

O Christ,
You did not turn away.
You did not defend yourself.
You did not demand to be spared.

You walked the long road.
You bore the weight.
You stretched your arms wide
and said: “Forgive them.”

And still—
You saw us.
You loved us.
You stayed.

Let me stay with you here.
Not rush to resurrection.
Not distract myself with what comes next.

Let me learn the silence of the cross.
The courage to remain.
The ache that becomes communion.

You are the God who does not leave.
And today—
I will not leave you.

Amen.