Good Friday

A group of friends/co-workers are having a party tonight. People that I love and love to be around. And I feel like I should go.

But I don't want to. Much as I don't usually like to close myself off and gather in a "Christians only" huddle, that's all I feel like doing tonight.

Because tonight is the night we remember Christ's death.

Of course, we can't know exact dates, and even the exact date would change from year to year on Friday.

But this is the day, almost 2000 years ago, that Jesus died.

And I want to be with people who know that. People who I can cry with. People who aren't in a party mood.

I'm not in a party mood. Talk to me on Easter.

For now, I'm just sad and frustrated and angry that we didn't know perfect love when we saw it. That we still don't. The world doesn't stop for this and take, at the very least, a moment of silence.

Because almost 2000 years ago, the Son of God was killed by His creation. And His creation ought to pause and recognize what a horrible thing that is.

I don't know what to say about this. I don't know how to be creative or pithy. I have to fight from being maudlin and depressed.

Tonight is not a good night. Things will be better on Sunday, but they couldn't be worse today.

The only way to endure Good Friday is to know that Easter is coming.

I'm not sure how they did it that first time. To know the truth and despair of Nietzsche's "God is dead", to feel it in your bones.

It must have been hell. It must have been a kind of hell for Nietzsche. It must be hell for anyone who still thinks it's true.

I know it isn't true, but tonight I live in that moment when it seemed to be. When Jesus cried out "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" When the soldier watched him die and said "this man truly was the Son of God." What hopelessness he must have felt, to discover that too late.

I want to gather my loved ones close. I want to tear my clothes and yell. I want mourning on an epic scale. I want to do something.

But there's nothing to do. Except wait...