Good Friday thoughts

It has become a custom for me to spend at least an hour in prayer in the wee hours of Good Friday morning. The concept is that we are keeping watch with the Lord in Gethsemani, though we're not so presumptuous as to think ourselves any more successful at that than the apostles were. The Garden may have represented a time of crisis for them, but we usually find our personal crisis points somewhere other than our unitive and commemorative participation in the events of Holy Thursday night.

I marvel at the insights and blessings that arise out of this prayer time. Sometimes, I'm touched anew by things I know I've reflected on before: how marvelously Ps 95 (the invitatory psalm which may be used to start prayer virtually every day) applies to the context of Christ's passion ("harden not your hearts," indeed!); the sublime insight of St. John Chrysostom, who points out that the water and blood which flowed from Christ's side are the Baptism and Eucharist by which we become transformed in him; a fresh identification with Jesus' utter crushing (part of the meaning of Gethsemani, where the olives were crushed into oil) -- the One who deserved to be adored by all creation was willing to instead be crushed in our place.

Usually, newer insights accompany these. The last couple of days in the car during my (very short) commute, I've been listening to a talk by Fr. Robert Spitzer, president of Gonzaga University. I was there as he delivered this talk a couple years ago, in the course of which he spent some time discussing the practical application of Jesus' prayer, "Thy will be done." Of course, Jesus taught this in what we know as The Lord's Prayer, but then showed us its ultimate application in the Garden.

To what degree am I willing to truly submit: Father, Thy will be done? Will I trust that this really will be for the best? Isn't it usually only insofar as we can see the potential good, and are not too put out? If it means that we're likely to encounter consequences that intimidate us, or which might cause us to suffer loss or embarrassment or shame, we're not so good at living this out. When we know the right thing but fear implications which cow us into (what we rationalize as) pragmatism, it is much more challenging to trust God's will and providence rather than our own vision.

Today, I am given a gift I can never deserve, as my Savior gives his life in my place. I pray my response to my deliverance will be an ever deeper trusting in God, a willingness to truly and fully submit to God's will, especially when it is most challenging.