Good Friday

Christ has died.

The eyes which looked from the manger into his mother’s loving gaze
The eyes which looked with compassion on the rich young man
The eyes which wept over Jerusalem
are now cold and lifeless.

The ears which heard the song of the angels
The ears which heard the voice say from heaven “This is my beloved Son”
The ears which heard the crowd cry out “Crucify him”
now hear none of the sobs made over his body

The lips which said to the paralysed man “your sins are forgiven you”
The lips which told the parables of the Good Samaritan and the Prodigal Son
The lips which said “I am the resurrection and the life”
now, drained of colour, smile and speak no more

The hands which stilled the storm
The hands which blessed the children
The hands which healed the blind, deaf and lame
now rest motionless, pierced and bloodied.

The feet which climbed the mountain to pray
The feet which walked on the water
The feet which were washed with the tears of the penitent woman
are now twisted, maimed and mutilated.

The heart which beat for love of sinners
The heart which longs for the peace of the world
The heart which beats with our hearts
beats no more.


Christ has died. He is laid in the tomb. The Great Silence begins.
But the story has just begun.