My dear brothers and sisters in Christ, 

Today – the world falls silent. 

The Church is stripped. The altar is bare. The tabernacle stands open – and empty. There is no Mass. There is no consecration. There is no triumph. 

Only the Cross.  

And on this day – Good Friday – we are not allowed to look away. We are not allowed to soften what this means. We are brought face to face with a question that echoes through every age, but perhaps nevermore loudly than now: What happens – when the world rejects God? 

Because that is what Good Friday is. Not only the suffering of Christ – but the revelation of the human heart when it turns away from truth.  

Scripture tells us: “And it was almost the sixth hour; and there was darkness over all the earth until the ninth hour” (Luke 23:44). There was darkness – at noon. When the light should have been strongest, the world went dark. And my brothers and sisters, if we are honest, we must admit – we are living in that hour again. 

There is a darkness spreading across the world, and it is not merely political, it is not merely social, and it is not merely cultural – it is spiritual. Nations are trembling. War is no longer distant or theoretical. The drums of conflict are sounding louder, and decisions are being made that carry consequences far beyond what we can see. There is unrest, instability, and a growing sense that something is unraveling. 

But even more alarming than the noise of war – is the silence about truth. Because today, truth is not simply denied – it is reshaped. What is evil is called good. What is good is treated as dangerous. What is sacred is dismissed, and what is false is elevated. 

And even within the Church – there is a silence that weighs heavily. A hesitation where there should be clarity. A reluctance where there should be courage. A confusion where there should be unwavering proclamation.  

And so we must ask, have we arrived again at Good Friday? 

Because on that first Good Friday, Truth stood before worldly power. Christ stood before Pilate. And Pilate asked the question that still echoes in our world today: “What is truth?” He asked the question while Truth Himself stood before Him. And Pilate did not wait for the answer. 

Because the answer would have required something of him. It would have required courage. It would have required humility. It would have required him to stand against the crowd. And so instead – he handed Truth over.  

And today, we see the same thing happening again. Not only in governments, not only in culture, but even in places where truth should be guarded most carefully.  

Truth is questioned. Truth is negotiated. Truth is set aside for the sake of acceptance, for the sake of peace, for the sake of avoiding conflict. But there can be no true peace where truth is abandoned.  

On Good Friday, the crowd cried out, “Crucify him, crucify him.” And we might be tempted to think we would never have stood with that crowd. But we must be very careful, because the crowd still exists. It speaks differently now. It uses different words. But it demands the same thing. 

Silence the truth. Remove what challenges us. Redefine what is uncomfortable. Make Christ into something manageable, something agreeable, something that asks nothing of us.  

And even more troubling, there are voices that claim His name while reshaping His message. A Christ without the Cross. A Gospel without repentance. A Church without sacrifice. But that is not Christ. That is not the Gospel. That is not the Church He founded. 

And we must say this clearly, even if it is uncomfortable: the deepest wounds to the Body of Christ do not come from outside – they come from within. On Good Friday, it was not only enemies who brought about the Cross. It was betrayal on the inside. 

And today, we see confusion introduced where clarity once stood. We see sacred things treated casually. We see truths that were once firmly proclaimed now spoken of as if they are optional, or evolving, or subject to change. And the faithful are left asking: where do we stand? 

Good Friday answers that question. You stand at the Cross. You hold to Christ. You remain faithful – even if others fall away. 

Because the Cross cannot be rewritten. It cannot be adapted to fit the spirit of the age. It cannot be softened to make it more acceptable. 

Scripture tells us: “And we preach Christ crucified: unto the Jews indeed a stumbling block, and unto the Gentiles foolishness” (1 Cor 1:23). It was a scandal then. It is a scandal now.  

Because the Cross speaks a truth the world does not want to hear. It tells us that sin is real. It tells us that sacrifice is necessary. It tells us that love is not sentiment – it is self-sacrifice, it is suffering, it is fidelity even unto death. 

And the modern world rejects this. It wants comfort without conversion. It wants affirmation without transformation. It wants salvation without the Cross. But that is not Christianity.  

And so we come to that moment on Calvary that pierces the soul: “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” (Matt 27:46). 

Many people feel that cry today. They feel it watching the world unravel. They feel it witnessing confusion within the Church. They feel it in their own suffering, in their own trials, in their own fears for what lies ahead. 

Where is God? Why does He seem silent?  

But we must understand this: God was not absent on Good Friday. He was accomplishing the supreme act of redemption. And He is not absent now. 

Even in the silence – He is working. Even in the darkness – He is present. Even when everything seems to be collapsing – He is bringing about something we cannot yet fully see.  

Not everyone fled on Good Friday. There were those who remained. Our Blessed Mother. St. John. The faithful women. They stayed. And that is the call for us now.  

Not to abandon the Church because of her wounds. Not to abandon the truth because it is costly. Not to abandon Christ because the world rejects Him. But to remain. To stand at the Cross. To remain faithful when it is difficult. To remain clear when there is confusion. To remain steadfast when others fall away. 

Because what looked like defeat on Good Friday was already the beginning of victory. 

When Christ said, “It is finished,” it was not a cry of defeat. It was the declaration that the work of redemption had been accomplished. The world did not recognize it. The crowd did not understand it. Even His followers did not fully grasp it. But heaven knew. 

And so it is today.  

We may look at the world and see darkness. We may see war, division, confusion, betrayal. We may see a Church that appears wounded and struggling. But God is not defeated.  

He is working – through the Cross. And we must hold fast to this truth: there is no Easter without Good Friday. The Resurrection does not bypass the Cross. It comes through it. 

And so if we long for renewal – if we long for restoration – if we long for truth to shine again in the world and in the Church – then we must be willing to walk this path.  

Not to escape the Cross. But to embrace it. 

And so today, do not look away. Stand at the Cross. Stand with Christ. Stand with His Mother. Stand with those who remain faithful, even when it costs everything.  

Because the world may fall silent. Truth may seem hidden. Darkness may cover the earth. But Heaven is speaking. And what it speaks is not defeat.  

It speaks redemption. It speaks victory. It speaks hope. And very soon – the silence will be broken. And the stone will be rolled away.  

But today – WE REMAIN – AT THE CROSS.  

May Almighty God bless you, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen. 

Bishop Joseph E. Strickland 

Bishop Emeritus