Good Friday is the darkest day in history, but it is also a day of hope. God has been crucified, but He will rise before long. We know that he will soon rise, but today is a day of solemn grief. The Savior of the World has been handed over to men to be scourged and killed.

We hear the culmination of the Suffering Servant songs in Isaiah’s prophecies. Jesus is “crushed for our sins, pierced for our offenses”. We hear his cry in the Psalm: “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” The Son of God experiences the depths of loss, ridicule, and pain. He takes on the weight of our sins.

But this suffering is not all darkness: it bears fruit. Not simply in the sense that it is the occasion for Jesus to show His glory. Christ’s suffering itself is fruitful: “Because of his affliction he shall see light in fullness of days; through his suffering, my servant shall justify many, and their guilt he shall bear” (Isaiah 53:11, my emphasis).

What does this mean? We know that there is a purpose in suffering, but how do we understand that suffering itself can be fruitful, regardless of the result? This is one of the greatest mysteries of our Faith, and it is placed before us on Good Friday.

Jesus Christ freely accepted His Passion, knowing the pain that it would cause Him. He endured the harshest treatment, never losing His peace and never complaining. He knew that He would endure the greatest suffering of all — great because of the pain, infinitely greater because of the sacrilege.

Our Lord did this of His own free will, even in His fully human will, firmly resolving to be conformed to His divine will in the Garden of Gethsemane. He knew full well that He would endure great suffering, and He also knew that it was this that would best atone for the sins of man. If a true man suffered the penalty of sin with the infinite merit of God, the curse would be broken. Our sin, though its guilt can be forgiven, nevertheless merits divine punishment. The suffering itself pays the price. 

This is one key truth of suffering. Our suffering is a participation in the Cross. Of course, we need to know what exactly the suffering of Christ on the Cross was meant to accomplish to understand what this means. Being united to Christ’s sufferings means that our sufferings are done in expiation for the sins of men. We are pierced for others’ (and our own) afflictions, just as Christ was pierced for ours. Through His salvific work, our own sufferings bear fruit.

There are many other reasons for suffering, more than could be described in a blog post. But for today, let’s focus on one more reason. For all of the explanations we can give, we never really come to terms with suffering. It never ceases to be painful. However, even in our most difficult times, we can fall back on the firm conviction that Jesus suffered. Not only did He suffer, but He suffered greatly. He suffered the worst pain of all, and did it confidently, preserving His dignity and choosing not to spurn any of it. Though we may not always understand, Jesus Christ will always be with us in our sufferings. That was His choice. Today we celebrate that choice and join Him on Calvary.

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Today is “Spy Wednesday,” the day that Judas betrayed Our Lord. Our First Reading and Psalm speak eloquently of the Suffering Servant of God, the Messiah, who will come to save His people from their sins. He will bear beatings, insults, and ultimately death, but will do so willingly, ready to accept anything to accomplish the will of the Father. We have been hearing these prophecies from Isaiah all week, and we will continue to hear them through Good Friday.

It is good to reflect on just how humble and confident the Lord must have been to allow Himself to be betrayed, beaten, abused, insulted, stripped, and killed so mercilessly. Today, however, I want to focus on Judas Iscariot. Why would he betray Our Lord? This is a good question on its own, but for Judas it is all the more baffling. Why would he betray Jesus Christ, whom he walked with for years and saw as a friend and master?

Judas was a Zealot, a member of a radical Jewish sect that sought to overthrow the Roman government and encourage the Messiah to come forward and lead the insurrection in the process. Many Jews thought that the Messiah would hold secular political power. The Zealots thought that they could help the Messiah achieve victory. Iscariot, Judas’ surname, gives away his Zealot sympathies. This is a title meaning “dagger man,” referring to the Zealots who would carry daggers at all times.

Over the course of Jesus’ ministry, it’s likely that Judas became disillusioned. Somewhere along the line, it became obvious to him that Jesus did not want political authority, at least not in the sense that many of the Jews thought that the Messiah would. He did come to rule and to lead, but in a very unexpected way. Judas may have hung around because of Jesus’ holiness, or simply because he wanted to get back at Him later. Either way, he remained until his betrayal, the fatal move.

Judas’ betrayal was a result of his failure to pay attention to Our Lord. He expected one Messiah, got another, and couldn’t stop and consider that he might be the misguided one. Later on, he understood his error, but was too crestfallen to make amends. Instead, he took his own life, crushed by the weight of his sin.

Job presents another way for us. He too had a misguided view of God. Though he was always righteous, unlike the sin-prone Judas, he too thought that God was different than in reality. Job, afflicted by Satan, expected the Lord to give him a comprehensive explanation. Instead, the Lord says that Job simply can’t understand: “Who is this that darkens counsel with words of ignorance? Gird up your loins now, like a man; I will question you, and you tell me the answers!” (Job 38:2–3).

In the end, Job repents in dust and ashes, admitting that God’s ways are unfathomable. He was attentive, and by listening understood that the Lord’s ways are greater, much more marvelous than his. He allowed God to change his perspective in a radical way, and humbly accepted the consequences. Let us do the same this Triduum, attending to the Lord and allowing Him to transform our lives, even if it means giving up what we might want from Him. On Good Friday and beyond, we will see Him surpass even our wildest expectations, giving the ultimate explanation for suffering.

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