Well, it’s Good Friday again — the one day a year where Catholics and Christians all around the world gather at church to thank God that Jesus was unjustly and brutally crucified (though I’m not sure any form of crucifixion is particularly peachy) at the hands of the Romans.
As someone who has been raised Catholic and spent the first six years of my education at a small Wisconsin Catholic school, Good Friday has never made much sense to me. I appreciate that Jesus died for our sins, but do we have to rub it in?
It’s not like Jesus asked for this. When he was just a little scamp running around Jerusalem, he was probably bullied mercilessly because his mom was a virgin. Then he starts performing miracles like feeding thousands of people with five loaves of bread and two fish and healing lepers only to be told that he has to be sacrificed because other people screwed up.
Worse yet, Judea governor Pontius Pilate didn’t see reason to crucify Jesus, but gave into peer pressure after finding a replacement and having Jesus (ironically) beaten mercilessly wasn’t enough for the bloodthirsty crowd. The son of God just could not catch a break.
I also think it was ethically questionable for God to send his son down to die on a cross at 33 years old just because he wanted those on Earth to feel a little guilty before he opened the pearly gates. I’m not sure that revenge is the holiest thing the Lord could have pursued, but hell, everyone’s a critic.
My point is this: maybe on Good Friday, we shouldn’t be going to church and doing Stations of the Cross. For the uninitiated, this is when churchgoers pray and recount each of the events that took place leading up to Jesus’ death on the cross, from condemnation to being laid in a tomb. Not because it’s not important to recognize, but because it’s not cool to go into someone’s house and talk through each grueling step of how they ended up nailed to a cross with a crown of thorns on their head next to some randos.
Maybe instead, we should quietly walk up to church, avoid eye contact with any art depicting Jesus’ loved ones, leave a nice bottle of brandy near the altar, whisper “sorry” and slink away. I’d say Jesus should receive wine, but it’s probably a sore subject for him on that day, so I’d avoid it. If you must, I humbly recommend you avoid red.
Mackenzie is the first ever editor of The Beet and actually made of over 62% beet.
