Truly this is God’s Son: Sermon for Good Friday

preached by Br James Koester SSJE as part of the Liturgy for Good Friday 2025

Truly, This Is God’s Son

I can see him even now rolling his eyes, thinking to himself, do they never listen? Do they never take seriously what I have to say? Here, I spend all this time teaching them how to preach, and they get out of school, and ignore everything they’ve been taught.

I don’t remember all that much of what my professor of homiletics said in class. I do remember that he was adamant that we do not conflate the gospel accounts, as if they were one single story. Don’t pretend, he told us, that Matthew and John are the same, and never introduce elements of one gospel, into another, thinking that they are simply bits left out. Each of the gospels have their own theological integrity and to harmonize them as if there were a single story, destroys that integrity. Well, having said all of that, I’m going to ignore the reverend professor, and boldly go where he would have me not.

One of my favourite icons is an icon of the crucifixion. Each Lent it becomes, in a sense, my constant companion, and the focus of much of my prayer. I like this icon because it is full of people, and people of course, especially people in icons, have their own stories to tell and their own messages to proclaim. On this particular icon, on one side of the cross stands Mary, obviously weeping. She is surrounded by three women whose care for her is tender and touching. They appear to be literally holding her up as she swoons with grief. They are there, not simply to support Jesus, much like someone sitting by the bed of a loved one who is dying. They are there to support Mary, in her grief and horror, as she watches and waits, for her son to die this ghastly death.

Standing on the other side of the cross in my icon, is John, the Beloved Disciple. Alone, of all the men, he had the courage to stand by Jesus in his hour of great suffering. As we know, all the other male disciples abandoned Jesus, leaving only John to witness Jesus’ life slowly ebb away.

And then there, behind John, is the Roman centurion. And here, good professor, wherever you are today, is where I leave you, for it is the centurion in this icon who speaks to me over, and over again each Lent.

Since the beginning of Lent, the centurion’s words have rung in my ears: truly, Matthew tells us he says, this man was God’s Son! For me, Lent and especially Holy Week, is frequently bound up by those six words, and the centurion, whom tradition names Longinus , is my constant friend and companion.

We gather today, on this Good Friday, to remember events which took place almost two thousand years ago. We gather to remember a moment in time and history. But we do more than simply remember, for we are not historians gathered on some conference about Roman Palestine, we are Christians celebrating the passion of our Lord, an event beyond time, and space, and even history.

We live this week, as we do every Holy Week, beyond the constraints of time and history. For this week is timeless. We remember, and celebrate, not simply events from the past, but we share in them, as though they are now. In truth, we gathered last night in the Upper Room with the Lord, not remembering an act which took places centuries ago, but experiencing something taking place at that moment, as Jesus washed our feet, and fed us with his Body and Blood. In truth, we watched with him one hour in the Garden, not as folks dressed as Roundheads or Cavaliers, pretending to fight once again the Civil War, but as people actually present in that Garden obeying the Lord’s command to stay awake, and watch with him. In truth we stand today, not in Jericho, but outside the walls of Jerusalem, on Golgotha, beneath the cross. In truth we will wait on Easter Day, outside the Tomb for the message of the angels, he is not here, but has risen. Time and history have been turned inside out. Then is now. Now is then, and the cross of Jesus beneath which we stand is here, in this very place, and Jericho has become Jerusalem and Cardigan Street, Golgotha. The cross of Jesus is here in this, and every place, not simply on an altar, but wherever there is grief, and pain, and hate, and suffering. And right now, the world is just such a place of immense grief and pain, hate, and suffering.

Daily we have been confronted with the reality of that grief, pain, hate, and suffering. We see the Cross of Jesus’ suffering planted in a hospital in Gaza that has been bombed. We see that same Cross of Jesus’ suffering planted, wherever the ugly realities of injustice and cruelty are on display. We see the Cross of Jesus’ suffering planted in the streets of Ukraine as Russia continues its unprovoked attempt at conquest. And in each place, there, there is my companion Longinus, tugging at my sleeve, and whispering in my heart, saying, truly, there is God’s son.

Just as we are confronted each day with the reality of human suffering, so too are we confronted with the reality of the Cross of Jesus. For in those very places of grief, and pain, and hate, and suffering, we see Christ suffering upon the cross, not over again, or even still, after all these years, but as if then was now, and now was then.

My companion, this Lent has opened my eyes. For each time Longinus has whispered into my heart: truly, there is God’s son, I have seen Jesus once again, as my eyes and my heart have been opened to see the person of Jesus in the suffering, and pain, and grief of friend and stranger alike.

So today of all days, as you gaze upon the cross, do so, not as you would reverently, and lovingly, as if handling some precious family treasure, but as a Christian, who knows that the Cross of Jesus’ suffering is found wherever there is human grief, and pain, and hate, and suffering, for it is that cross which Longinus shows us, and invites us to venerate. As we do, we will see Jesus taking upon himself the suffering of the world, not as if once upon a time, or long, long ago, and far, far away, but today, now, here, in this moment, and in this place for Jericho is Jerusalem, and Cardigan Steet is Golgotha and this is the world which God so loves and for which he gave his only begotten son, so that all who believe may be saved.