Good Friday A Mirror To Our Sorrows, Sufferings

In the cacophony of this modern world, where lives flicker in digital haste, where silence is crowded out by noise, and hope is often reduced to a fleeting wish. It beckons the restless spirit to slow its pace, to shed its vanities, and to walk barefoot across sacred ground.
Good Friday is no mere descent into despair. It is a pilgrimage of hope, a journey that does not bypass suffering but moves through it, eyes fixed firmly on the mystery of love, broken and poured out.
Good Friday is not a distant recollection of history; it is truth unfolding in the lives of the faithful today. In the sterile corridors of hospitals where hands tremble with fear, in the hallowed chambers of courtrooms where justice weeps, in the war-torn streets where children cry for bread, the shadow of the Cross is cast. We find it in the crucible of real suffering, that Good Friday becomes not an abstract doctrine, but a living, breathing incarnation of God's presence. Let us walk and join Christ and partake into his very heart of human suffering. In Him, God enters the bleakest corners of human existence — not as an indifferent observer, but as an intimate companion. He is there in the stillness of broken hearts, in the silence that follows shattering news, in the sigh that cannot escape the lips.
And yet, amid the sombre tones of Good Friday, something luminous stirs. Hope, though veiled, is never absent. It pulses beneath the grain of the Cross, beneath the hush of the sealed tomb, quiet, steady and unyielding. This is not the end, but the drawing in of humanity to the very heart of divine mercy. The Church Services on Good Friday are stark — no joyous song to lift the spirit, faithful only venerate the Cross. There is deep emptiness all around.
And yet, it is in this very emptiness that a strange beauty is found. The Church does not flinch from sorrow; she holds it with reverence, knowing that even in the valley of shadows, God is near: "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me" (Psalm 23:4).
Pope Francis often emphasises, the Cross is not only a sign of suffering but also a symbol of hope because it reveals the deep solidarity of God with humanity. He sees the Cross as a lighthouse of hope where even in darkness, God's love shines brightest.
For the pilgrim of faith, Good Friday is not merely a memorial; it is a mirror, reflecting our own sorrows in the pierced side of Christ. Whether one is a student striving to live up to the expectations of parents or teachers, a parent wrestling with the turmoil of internal conflict, a patient battling a dreaded disease, or a leader struggling to shepherd a flock through turmoil, we see in His wounds a place where we can lay down our own. "By His wounds we are healed" (Isaiah 53:5). And healing, though it may come slowly, begins here, at the foot of the Cross, where love bleeds but does not break.
Sometimes, our suffering can feel the heaviest — our burden the greatest. But when we cast our gaze upon others, we see their pain and are reminded of the gift of empathy. In those moments, the quiet whisper of hope begins to stir. Hope today does not parade itself; it kneels. It is found in the widow lighting a candle, in the addict reaching for prayer instead of poison, in the youth choosing mercy over vengeance. Hope today is Christ on the Cross — eyes raised to heaven, whispering, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do" (Luke 23:34).
Good Friday teaches us that resurrection is not born of denial, but of endurance. That glory is not the absence of suffering, but the transfiguration of it. Every tear shed in sorrow becomes a baptism if it falls at the foot of the Cross.
And so, we are invited to walk — not as tourists in a sacred drama, but as pilgrims whose lives have been shaped by it. Let us walk with Mary, whose heart broke but never turned away; with the Beloved Disciple, who remained steadfast in love; with the thief who dared to hope, even in his last breath: "Jesus, remember me when You come into Your kingdom" (Luke 23:42). And hear again Christ's reply — not only to him but to us all: "Today you will be with Me in paradise" (Luke 23:43). This is the promise that keeps us walking. This is the flame that will not die. This is the hope that makes Good Friday good.
(The writer is a senior teacher at St Joseph's Convent, Kamptee)