Good Friday is not like any other day. It’s a day when we keep quiet a little more, where we think more about those who are no longer there, those who suffer, those whom life has broken. He has something serious in him, not in the sense of despair, but in the sense of truth. It forces to slow down, to return to the essentials, to look at the pain without detour.
There is in this day an invitation to collect, of course, but also to examine conscience. Not a posture, not a sadness of circumstance, but a form of humility. Good Friday reminds us that man is neither almighty nor above the suffering of others. On the contrary, it reminds us of our duty to be close to those who have been bruised by violence, with those who have been struck by injustice, with those who go through the test in silence.
That’s probably what gives him his strength. This day is not just about faith. He also talks about our ability to remain human when the world becomes hard, brutal, indifferent. He brings us back to those who are forgotten too quickly: the bereaved, the wounded, the displaced, the abandoned, all those whom pain relegates to the margin while the rest of the world continues its path.
Good Friday is not the celebration of sadness. He doesn’t lock us in grief. Rather, he teaches us to accept humility as a strength. To be humble is not to erase. It is to understand that existence does not revolve around oneself, that the suffering of the other concerns us, and that there are times when the only right attitude is that of restraint, compassion and presence.
In a time when everything pushes to the immediate reaction, to the noise, to the permanent affirmation of oneself, this day says exactly the opposite. She recalls that there is dignity in silence, in memory, in attention to the most wounded. It also recalls that humanity is not measured by force, but by the way one looks at the most vulnerable, especially today in Lebanon, where crises follow one another: the economic crisis and its procession of misery, the explosion of the port of Beirut and families still waiting for justice, then the war, with its displaced, its dead, its wounded, and all those who remain bruised in their flesh or in their minds.
Good Friday finally reminds us that the Christian faith does not stop at suffering or death. She goes through the test without denying it. She says that after mourning, after pain, after falling, remains the possibility of recovery. For believers, the dead and then resurrected Christ is the deepest meaning of it. And for all, this day can remain a lesson of humility, fidelity to the wounded, and hope in the very heart of the trial.
