As our Lenten pilgrimage draws to a close, we enter Holy Week which includes some of the oldest observances of Christ’s holy Church. While we know little about life in the Church after Pentecost until the fourth century, we do know that the Church was an underground movement, persecuted individuals and communities defying the Roman government because of their outlawed belief in the resurrected Lord. However, when the Roman Emperor Constantine the Great converted to the Christian faith in 312CE, he conveniently legalized the faith. [Historians acknowledge this despite the perception of some that he was a “deathbed convert” in 337CE. That debate may continue until Jesus comes again in glory.] Once “legal,” Christianity grew and flourished under the patronage of the emperor, eventually becoming the religion of the realm. By the end of the fourth century, the groundwork not only for the articulation of Christianity but its liturgical observances were well established.

A well-heeled and well connected woman pilgrim, Egeria, made the journey to Jerusalem probably in the late fourth century to pay homage at the various places mention in the biblical accounts of Jesus’ final days before his crucifixion. She sent a number of letters home to her “sisters” in Europe (exactly where is disputed) to relate what she had seen and experienced. Whether she was a member of a religious order of “sisters” or simply following tradition by calling fellow members of the faith brothers and sisters is uncertain. It is surprising to see in those vivid accounts much of our own Lenten and Easter observances, including Palm Sunday / Passion Sunday, Maundy Thursday, and Good Friday leading to her striking description of the early morning visit as part of the throngs of people who gathered at “the tomb,” waiting for the bishop and minions to arrive and celebrate the resurrection. Already the huge, decorated candle we see each week, the Paschal Candle,” is center stage among the clouds of incense with choirs singing Alleluia.

Puzzling, however, is the designation of the Friday of Jesus’ crucifixion as “good,” at least in English. Egeria’s description bears witness to those crowds in a state of utter grief, wailing and crying much the same way Lazarus’ own death was reported on the Fifth Sunday in Lent, the gospel passage we heard last week:

30 Now Jesus had not yet come to the village but was still at the place where Martha had met him. 31  The Jews who were with her in the house consoling her saw Mary get up quickly and go out. They followed her because they thought that she was going to the tomb to weep there. 32  When Mary came where Jesus was and saw him, she knelt at his feet and said to him, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” 33  When Jesus saw her weeping and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved [St. John 11:1-45].

We tend to remember the details cited in this excerpt primarily because in the KJV it contained the shortest verse in the Bible – Jesus wept – (the right answer to a popular VBS question). So, given Jesus’ own reaction to Lazurus’ death, the grief stricken women who went to the Jesus’ tomb to anoint him after the crucifixion, and Mary Magdalene weeping in the garden feverishly looking for her Lord, we should wonder why that awful day is called “Good.” What in heaven’s name is good about it?

I remember Sunday School teachers and not a few pastors trying to convince us pew sitters why the day is called “good” despite all the nasty stuff. Their linguistic stunts and mental gymnastics often defied the simple logic of what we heard and saw in our hearts and minds of faith. The pain, suffering, and bloody death Jesus endured; the suspicion and disgust of the religious authorities willing and able to get rid of Jesus the troublemaker; and the discomfort of the civic authorities caused by this charismatic rabbi all pointed to the same conclusion – there was nothing “good” in any of it! A stanza of Johann Heerman’s venerable hymn, Ah, Holy Jesus (ELW 349) states: “Twas I, Lord Jesus, I it was denied thee; I crucified thee…” Good Friday brings into critical focus the global, corporate brokenness and evil which we all suffer and to which we contribute. How easy to make light of the Communion song, Lamb of God, You Take Away the Sin of the World…

A linguistic pause for us English speakers may, in fact, clarify this fundamental cognitive dissonance. The designation, Good Friday, is closely connected to popular references to the “Good Book,” a.k.a. the B.I.B.L.E. While it may be the book for me (and you), it isn’t simply “good.” Books in and of themselves don’t do good or evil; they are inanimate, lacking the ability or power “to do,” though heaven knows that an author intending evil can wreak havoc through words uttered or written. A synonym for “the Good Book” is, of course, the Holy Bible – and there you have it – “holy,” quite a different set of meanings than “good” carries with it. The “Good” Book is based on early English usage, the word having evolved in meaning considerably. Around 1290CE the word “good” [gōd (with a long “o”)] meant “holy” as in Holy Bible. Used as a designation for the day Jesus was crucified, it was and remains a most holy day [Old Church Slavonic godu “favorable time”] through which God is working to achieve that which is “…excellent, fine; valuable; desirable, favorable, beneficial” despite the immense, mind-numbing, and most holy sacrifice of God’s own Son from human perspective.

English seems to be about the only language system that employs this linguistic puzzle of faith. The Romance languages (French, Spanish, Italian, Portuguese, Basque, and in this case, even Turkish) all designate the day as “Holy” Friday. The Scandinavian and Finnish languages opt for “Long” Friday since a) the entirety of the day for Jesus was marked with extreme suffering and persecution, bone-weariness, crucifixion, and death, and b) the liturgical observances for the day were perhaps deservedly long. No quick, bottom-line, drive by prayers or worship-lite would do for them! The Central European and Germanic peoples use “Great Friday,” “Silent Friday,” and for German Lutherans, “Sorrowful Friday.”

The Hippocratic School (source of doctor’s famous oath) has another related text, Epidemics, Book 1 which includes the comment, “Practice two things in your dealings with disease: either help or do not harm the patient.” That brings to mind a tongue-in-cheek definition of the moral and ethical understandings about peoples’ integrity and the demands of living in community we sometimes call “manners.” “Manners,” the saying goes, “is the gracious behavior one exhibits even when your mother isn’t watching.” Such good and godly behavior becomes the “habit of being” for those who are Jesus’ disciples, no matter what the situation and conditions, good or bad, favorable or problematic. It reveals that the kindnesses and sacrifices we make for the sake of others even in the most adverse situations are merely reflections of the utter concern and efforts of the God of love who offered his Son our Lord for us, our lives and well-being. It is only with the eyes of faith that one could look upon the bloody rabbi from Bethlehem hanging on the cross and sense the goodness of the one who first made life itself possible. Moreover, it was with the eyes of faith that no less than a Roman centurion and a small band of Jesus’ followers keeping watch on Golgotha were able to attest, Truly this man was God’s Son [St. Matthew 27:54].

That’s what’s good about it.