Through Stained Glass: Good Friday

“Meanwhile, standing near the cross of Jesus were his mother, and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene.” John 19.25b

Anyone who has attended a Good Friday service at the First Presbyterian Church over the past five years has probably noticed a piece of art.

It is the one with the Marys.

It is a black and white picture. Everyone is wearing black except for one of the Marys. It’s probably the mother of Jesus, but I like to think it is the Magdalene. What is so striking is that this figure is in white, and the artist has shown her overcome with grief and nearly collapsing. The pain she holds in her body is noticeable and unbearable. I daresay, when you look at it long enough, you feel her pain and torment in your body and soul, too. Off in the distance.. off to the right… is Golgotha, “the Place of the Skull.” The crosses are empty. The sky is transitioning—from light to dark. The agony, the pain, and the trauma experienced that day is palpable.

If I’m honest, the artist’s depiction of this scene following Christ’s crucifixion isn’t why I bought the artwork. In fact, why I did has very little to do with the depiction at all.

Look closely.

Closer.

Closer still.

You’ll see there is a crack in the glass. It cuts across the Mary wearing white. It cuts right across her heart, even. This blemish is why the artwork was 75% off. The store where I purchased it had placed under a sign that read, “Damaged.”

Sure, if there wasn’t a crack, I would have likely appreciated the artwork but kept on walking. But it was this crack in the glass that captured my gaze, and right there, in the middle of the store, I wept. This stunning piece of art that was once good enough for some hefty price was reduced and declared bad because of a crack.

Good Friday. The day Love was executed for doing just that… loving.

Good Friday. The day the Marys wept, and the day we weep at the many cracks in our lives.

Good Friday. The day—as Frederick Buechner puts it—that is anything but good.

Today is the day the people who know God through Christ have permission to give ourselves over to the sadness and the many tragedies in this world… and in our lives. Today is the day we can selfishly and selflessly name what grieves us. Today is the day we can name those moments when we ask, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Today is the day we can acknowledge our humanness, because in the crucifixion of the Christ we can name the humanness of the Divine.

Don’t get me wrong, I know resurrection is coming. I know Mary Magdalene will be the first apostle and will bring the confusing good news to the men who denied and wandered away from Jesus in the hours he needed them most. But, I also know that in order for the good news to be good, we have to name the bad, weep with the bad, and sit with the bad…

… and perhaps, like the Mary in white… have the bad place its scar right over our hearts so that on the third day, we might see what resurrection, restoration, and redemption to our Spirit-beloved and God-created values shall be.