A Homily for Good Friday
April 18, 2025
Text: John 18:1-19:42
I speak to you in the name of one God: the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
I want to share a story with you about a time when I was in my first year of ministry as a priest in northwest Texas. My family and I were living in Abilene at the time, where I served as curate at the Episcopal Church of the Heavenly Rest.
Not long after I began my ministry there, I was invited to attend a retreat for new clergy at a Catholic retreat center in San Angelo, which was about an hour and a half away from Abilene.
I was told that it would be a great way to meet other clergy from around the diocese and to learn some helpful things about how to get started in a new ministry.
The time came for the retreat.
So, I packed my bags and headed south for a few days.
It turned out to be exactly what I needed—a chance to get away for a while from the regular routine of parish ministry.
There was plenty of time for learning and asking questions.
But, more than that, it was an opportunity to simply rest in the presence of God without having to worry about any other responsibilities.
One day, during some free time, I decided to go for a walk outside and explore the surrounding area.
The campus was very beautiful and well-maintained.
It felt like an oasis of green in a part of the country that’s normally very dry and brown.
As I walked around for a bit, I eventually came to a long, winding pathway.
At first, I wasn’t sure where it would take me or how long it would take to walk the path.
But, I was curious to see where it led.
So, I decided to keep walking.
And, as I continued on, I quickly realized that the path was leading me toward a river that was close by.
I could hear the sound of the water getting louder as I continued to walk.
Then, I came upon something unexpected.
This wasn’t just a path to get down to the river.
This path was leading me to the Stations of the Cross.
The retreat center had their very own, outdoor Stations, depicting the final hours of Jesus’ life—similar to the fourteen stations we have hanging on the walls of our church.
For those of you who aren’t familiar with the Stations of the Cross, let me take a moment to explain.
The Stations of the Cross is an ancient, prayer practice which began centuries ago when pilgrims would travel to Jerusalem to walk the Via Dolorosa, “the way of sorrow”—the same path that Jesus walked on his way to Calvary.
Each of the fourteen stations represents a moment in Jesus’ suffering and death, and to this day, churches all over the world continue the practice of walking The Way of the Cross.
It’s especially meaningful during Lent and Holy Week.
Some churches have stations installed inside their buildings.
Some have outdoor stations.
But, the purpose is all the same—to walk with Jesus, to remember the sacrifice he made for all of us, and to remember that we, too, are called to take up our own cross and follow.
It’s a powerful and moving experience.
And, for those of you who are interested, tonight at 6:30, you’re welcome to come back to church and join us as we walk The Way of the Cross together.
I was surprised to discover the outdoor Stations on my retreat in Texas.
And, it wasn’t my intention to keep going and pray through each one.
But, since I had the time, I decided to keep going.
The only problem was that I somehow managed to find the end rather than the beginning.
I was at the fourteenth station—the one where Jesus is laid in the tomb.
So, I had a choice to make.
Do I try and find my way to the first station and start from the beginning?
Or, do I keep going in the direction I’m already headed?
I decided to be bold.
I kept going.
I walked from the fourteenth station to the thirteenth station—the one where Jesus is taken down from the cross.
Then, I walked from the thirteenth station to the twelfth—and so on.
I just kept walking and praying through each one of the stations—watching the events play out in reverse order.
As I moved further and further away from the twelfth station—the one where Jesus dies on the cross—a thought came to my mind that’s stayed with me ever since and led me to a deeper and more loving relationship with Jesus.
Jesus could’ve said “no.”
He could’ve easily walked away from all of it and spared himself the pain and humiliation he endured.
When faced with the agony in the Garden of Gethsemane—knowing that his time was soon coming to an end—Jesus could’ve handed that cup back to the Father and said, “This is too great of a burden for me to bear.”
When he was flogged and given a crown of thorns to wear by Roman soldiers, he could’ve said, “I’ve had enough,” and walked away.
When faced with Pilate’s interrogation—the one where Pilate questions him and tells him he has the power to release him or to crucify him, Jesus could’ve thrown his hands up and walked away.
Jesus could’ve walked away from all of it.
He was vulnerable to the same fear and pain and humiliation that all of us are.
And yet, he chose to keep walking.
He chose to endure all of it—for you and for me and for the whole world.
God didn’t force Jesus to go to the cross.
The choice was always his to make.
Jesus willingly sacrificed himself so that we might be reconciled with our Father in heaven.
He was obedient in his call to walk in love—even to the point of death.
He stretched out his arms of love on the hard wood of the cross so that the whole world might be drawn in.
That’s the reason why we take special care to observe this day.
It isn’t to be overwhelmed with feelings of guilt or shame—even though we’re all guilty of turning our backs on Jesus.
No, the true purpose of this day is to remember—to remember the sacrifice Jesus made so that we might be reconciled with God.
And, to remember that we’re part of the story as well.
As followers of the one who emptied himself and laid down his life for others, we’re called take up our own cross and do the same.
Just as it was for Jesus, it’s our choice to make.
Do we walk away from the path we’re called to follow?
Or, do we say “yes” and keep walking—trusting that, even in times of uncertainty and doubt—our “yes” will lead us to experience new and abundant life with God?
I want to close with a prayer that comes from the liturgy we’ll use tonight as we walk The Way of the Cross together.
Let us pray:
Almighty and everliving God, in your tender love for the human race you sent your Son our Savior Jesus Christ to take upon him our nature, and to suffer death upon the cross, giving us the example of his great humility: Mercifully grant that we may walk in the way of his suffering, and also share in his resurrection; who lives and reigns for ever and ever. Amen.
The Rev. Eric Mancil 