Good Friday

April 2, 2010

+ Last night I spent some time in the Children’s Chapel before the Blessed Sacrament reserved there. I have always loved that time of “keeping watch” with Jesus, while trying to follow St. Alphonsus de Ligouiri’s “Clock of the Passion.”

As I kept watch, I as I pondered that night of agony for Jesus and all that he was going through, I found myself reading a wonderful sermon, preached on Good Friday, March 26, 1880. The sermon is quite long—it’s preached on the seven last words of Jesus on the Cross—a popular preaching theme. But as I came to the end of the sermon, I found what was being said speaking loud and clear to me in that moment of watching with Jesus and for us today, on this Good Friday.

These words were preached by the Reverend George Hendric Houghton (1820-1897), Rector of the Church of the Transfiguration, also known as the "Little Church around the Corner", in New York City.

When I read these words, I realized they spoke better than I ever could of everything I would want to express for this Good Friday—this day in which we stop and ponder the mystery and depth of this holy day.

Houghton writes at the end of his Good Friday sermon:

“[Good Friday] is…indeed a day when, if we have eyes that can weep, hearts that can feel, bosoms that can swell with pity and compassion for the woes and sufferings of a fellow-man, ours should be the bitterness and fullness of grief and the tenderness of sympathy for Him who, as on this day by His bitter passion and death upon the cross, redeemed us from the everlasting bitterness of eternal death. It is a day when we should heed the call which we are so soon to hear made to us, as it were, by the Mother of our Lord:

“’O come and mourn with me awhile;

O come ye to the Saviour's side;

O come, together let us mourn;

Jesus, our Lord, is crucified.’

“It is, too, indeed a day when we should pour forth the fullness of or love and gratitude, as never on another day, to Him who lived us and gave Himself for us. But it is a day for something more than penitence, and pity, and love. It is a day for the lowliest adoration, for the highest worship. If it be, indeed, God that hangs upon the cross, God that is dying for us, what utmost homage is there that is meet enough for us to offer to him? Surely it is the day when as never on another the words should go up from our lips and from our hearts: ‘Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power, and riches, and strength, and honor, and glory, and blessing. Blessing, and honor, and glory, and power be unto the Lamb forever and ever.’ Thou art the King of Glory, O Christ. Thou art the everlasting Son of the Father. ‘Crucified! we Thee adore!’

“’To Christ, who won for sinners grace,

By bitter grief and anguish sore,

Be praise from all the ransomed race,

Forever and for evermore.’

“It is a day when above the Miserere for our sins, the dirge of our lamentation for the dying, and the Domine dilectissime of our love for our Redeemer, should rise from our innermost heart and soul to Christ our God, the Te Deum laudamus of our adoration. Let us fail not then, that in our private hallowing and observance of this day, there be indeed paid unto Christ our God such homage, such adoration, such worship, as on scarcely another.”