Good Friday, April 3 @ 3:00 PM
St. Augustine Cathedral
My dear friends,
Please be seated.
My dear sisters and brothers,
For time immemorial, humanity has struggled to make sense of a reality that you and I, as best we can, try to avoid at all costs: the mystery of suffering.
Suffering comes to us in many ways. For some, it is the frailty of old age or the burden of sickness. For others, it is the pain that comes from doing good that is not accepted, leaving wounds that run deep. At times, we suffer because of the folly of our own decisions, and even our own sinfulness.
And of all the suffering we experience, the most difficult to understand is the suffering of the innocent—for it seems so unmerited, so unfair.
Religious traditions in the East often seek to escape suffering, striving for a kind of stoicism that rises above what cannot be avoided. In the Jewish Scriptures, our elder brothers and sisters wrestle with this mystery as well, most notably in the Book of Job, where God does not give Job a direct answer for his suffering.
It is against this backdrop that we gather today to marvel at—to adore—the suffering of the One who is completely innocent. A suffering not deserved, not merited, but freely chosen by God made man.
And yet we call this day “Good.”
So let me ask you a question: how do we make sense of the suffering we have come to contemplate in silence—to adore in the One who chose to suffer for us?
Perhaps that question is too great for any one homily to answer. But perhaps the key comes from the very One we adore.
For we gather here because Christ freely chose to suffer in love, so that His suffering might become a sacrifice for our good.
In that one act, we are taught what suffering truly means.
For suffering—whether great or small—when lived in a spirit of love, becomes a sacrifice: a choice made for the good of another. Whatever suffering you and I face, when we live it in love—imitating the Shepherd of love—then it is not meaningless. It is not lost. It has a purpose that is beautiful.
What is endured in love can be offered as a sacrifice—for a neighbor who may never know, for a soul in purgatory waiting for prayer, or as a witness to someone close to us. To endure suffering with trust in God’s love, faithfully following the One who remained faithful to the end, becomes a powerful testimony.
When we suffer with the grace and power of the Holy Spirit, allowing God to lead us, that witness can change lives. It can melt hearts, heal the spiritually sick, and even raise the dead.
You see, my friends, we marvel at how much God loves us. It is that infinite love that allowed the sufferings humanity inflicted—cruelties beyond imagination—to become something more.
Because of His love, that suffering is not meaningless. It is the key to eternal life. He paid the price, and we receive the gift. His suffering, lived in perfect love, became the perfect sacrifice that has set us free.
And we come here not only to thank Him on our knees, but also to be reminded that He asks us to do the same.
“You are to take up your cross and follow me.”
Whatever that cross may be in your life or mine, we are called to carry it. But today we rejoice in this truth: we never carry it alone.
Whatever burdens you have brought into this church today—whatever pain, suffering, or hurt you carry—the Lord Jesus, in His victory over sin and death, walks with you. He takes you by the hand and says:
“Do not rebel against what you cannot change. Walk with me. Hold my hand. Let me carry this with you. And if you dare to love as I love—even imperfectly—I will show you how your suffering can become a sacrifice of glory, praise, and eternal life.”
The question is: are we willing to take His hand and trust Him?
Our Lady did.
John did.
Mary Magdalene did.
Mary, the wife of Clopas, did.
The question for you and me is simple: are we willing to do the same?
For if we do, just as the earth quaked and the mountain split, and those who did not believe proclaimed, “Truly, this was the Son of God,”
then imagine what we will see when we learn to suffer well in Christ—through His power and His grace.