Homily | April 3, 2026 | Good Friday And The God Who Enters Darkness (Episode 76)

Today we go deeper.

Because if Good Friday stays at the level of just emotions, if it stays at the level of that was powerful, then we've missed everything.

We just heard the passion according to the Gospel of John.

And at the center of it, one line that echoes through it is understanding that God says, My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?

This is not just Jesus' cry, this is our cry.

Every person in this church, whether you admit it or not, has prayed this prayer in some form or the other.

Where are you, God?

Where are you, God, when my life is falling apart?

Where are you when a diagnosis has come back?

Where are you when my marriage is breaking up?

Where are you when I've been praying for years for a suitable spouse?

Where are you when there's been tragedy in my life?

Where are you when I've been praying for things for this or for that and nothing changes?

Where are you when the good suffer and the wicked seem to always win?

Why does it feel like you're silent, Lord?

Why does it feel like you're absent?

Why does it feel like you've abandoned me?

Today God Himself enters into that question.

Not from a distance, but from the cross.

Jesus here is not acting, he is in it.

The Son of God enters into the deepest human experience of abandonment, not just physical pain, though it must have been unbearable and excruciating, but spiritual darkness, silence, the feeling that the Father is no longer there.

And here's the mystery.

The Father is there.

But the Son feels the weight of the separation.

He steps into the place where sin takes us.

That place where God feels absent, so that you will never be alone there again.

There is absolutely no suffering in your life, no darkness, no confusion, no moment where you have cried, Where are you, God?

That He has not already been there.

That's why we listen to the Passion, not to feel bad for Jesus, but to realize He has gone into the deepest places of our lives.

Before you ever went there, He was there.

And now we have to be honest because we did this.

It's not just they did this to Jesus.

We did this.

Every time, every sin is not just a mistake, it is a choice that echoes.

Every time we say, Well, it's not that serious, the cross says to us, look again.

Every time we delay a conversion or a real seriousness to walk in the ways of the faith, or every time that we say, I'll go to confession one day, the cross says, This is the cost.

Every time we choose ourselves over God, we participate in this.

And that's uncomfortable.

Because many times we would rather just be spectators.

We would rather say, Well, Judas did that, or Pilate did that.

Oh no, the crowd, they cheered it on, they caused this.

No, we are in that story.

We betray, we deny, we compromise, we walk away and do things our own way.

We stay silent when we should speak up.

And you know what?

He knows that.

And he still stays.

He stays, he stays knowing that Judas is going to walk out and betray him.

He stays knowing that Peter will deny him.

He stays knowing that the crowd will crucif will scream out, crucify him.

He stays knowing that you will sin again.

He stays.

Why?

Well, because he would rather endure the cross than to lose you.

And hanging there at that very moment where he feels the weight of absolute abandonment, he does not curse, he does not condemn, he does not walk away, he says, Father, forgive them.

Do you understand how insane that is?

At the moment of maximum pain, he chooses mercy.

At the moment that he could justify judgment, he gives forgiveness.

And he's not talking about a generic them.

He's talking to you about the sins you've made peace with, about the habits you've stopped fighting, about the wounds or mistakes that you think they define you, about the part of your life you think is beyond redemption.

He says, forgive them.

This is why we gather around the cross.

Not to feel something, but to decide once and for all something.

Because the cross forces us to make a decision.

You cannot stay neutral.

You cannot stand at the cross and remain unchanged.

You cannot hear the cry, why have you forsaken me and not realize he's entered into your darkness?

So why would you not have so that you would not have to stay there?

But I want you to listen carefully.

God the Father's silence is not absence.

The Father did not abandon the Son, and he's never abandoned you.

What looked like silence was actually salvation unfolding.

What looked like defeat was redemption being accomplished.

What looked like the very end was the beginning of God's plan for all of humanity.

And the proof is coming, but not today.

Today we have to stay here.

Today we cannot rush to Easter.

Today we must meditate on what Christ has done for us.

Today we will kneel.

You will come forward and venerate the cross.

Don't come casually.

Come like your life depends on it.

Because it does.

Bring that pain that you've been carrying for years.

Bring the anger that you still carry.

Bring all of the hurt.

Bring all of the doubt.

Bring the silence and place it at the cross that you will kiss.

Because the cross is not an explanation.

The cross is to every answer, to every question that you have.

Not an answer that explains everything, but an answer that shows you this: you are not alone.

You are not abandoned, and that you are loved to the very end.

And so today, my brothers and sisters, fall before the cross and hear him say through a breath that is almost gone, I went into the darkness for you, so that you would never be lost again.

And if that is true, then this moment demands everything from us.

It demands a complete change and a complete surrender to his love.

Amen.