Commercializing Jesus 

Many years ago I attended an interfaith gathering where we were invited to share our favorite religious holiday. Many other Christians mentioned Christmas or Easter, as one would expect. When it was my turn to share, I named Good Friday as my favorite holiday, the reason being that it was hard to commercialize this holiday.
 
Good Friday is one of my favorite days for other reasons too. It marks the day that “God proves his love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us.” (Romans 5:8). There are no frills, no bunnies or gift-wrap involved, just the bottom-line of our Catholic faith. I can make things in life pretty complicated.

Good Friday brings me back to the simple fact that I am a sinner, in need of a savior, and that savior, namely Jesus, gave everything out of love for me so that I would never be separated from him.

 
One of my favorite Good Friday practices is to go to the Holy Stairs at St. Patrick’s church in the Strip District. SaintsInTheStrip.org explains, “The Holy Stairs represent the twenty-eight steps between Christ and Pilate when Pilate said, ‘Behold the Man’ (Ecce Homo) and condemned Him to death. The original Holy Stairs were taken from Jerusalem to Rome in the 4th Century by order of St. Helena, mother of Constantine the Great, and are now in the Church of the Holy Stairs (Scala Sancta) in Rome. These replicas stairs were placed in St. Patrick's when the church was rebuilt in 1936.”
 
During a difficult time when I needed to make an act of forgiveness for someone who had hurt me, I made a small personal pilgrimage to the Holy Stairs at St. Patrick’s on Good Friday. I drove to the edge of the Strip District, about a mile from St. Patrick’s, with a pen and notebook in hand. I walked the mile through the streets of the Strip District with the intention of writing a letter of forgiveness and to help me let go of the grudge that I held against the one that I needed to forgive. I had prayed about and planned that day for most of the weeks during Lent. When the day came, all my focus was on walking with Jesus on his way to the cross, and dying to the unforgiveness that I held in my heart.
 

While this was a special day for me, activities on Smallman Street and Penn Avenue were like any other Friday.

I imagined that it would have been the same in Jerusalem just a few blocks away from Jesus’ path on that first Good Friday – People going about their business, unaware of the innocent man that was about to be crucified between two criminals.

 
Unlike most churches, the first thing that you see when you enter St. Patrick’s are the Holy Stairs. I ascended the stairs on my knees, as is the tradition, praying in union with Jesus' suffering with each step. Many of the prayers reminded me that “we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who has similarly been tested in every way, yet without sin” (Hebrews 4:15).
 
I could especially relate to the prayer on the 8 ^th step: “O my Jesus! By the silence You kept in the presence of those who bore false witness against You, … have mercy on me!” and the 18 ^th step: “O my Jesus! By the excessive weariness that overcame You, while bearing the burden of the Cross on Your shoulders, have mercy on me!”
When I got to the 22 ^nd step and prayed: “O my Jesus! By the love that moved You to forgive Your executioners and pray for them to Your Heavenly Father, have mercy on me!” I was nearer than before to forgiving the comparatively small offense that I had suffered.
 
I made it to the top of the stairs, made my way to the last pew in the small chapel and wrote a letter of forgiveness to the one that treated me carelessly. I walked back to my car in silence, though the streets were still busy and filled with noise. While I never sent the letter, the small Good Friday pilgrimage was effective for me. That Easter I was able to sing the long awaited Alleluia louder and with a much freer heart. I had united my Good Friday to the Lord’s Good Friday and on Easter Sunday I got to share in His Resurrection. Good Friday is still one of my favorite holy days, second only to Easter.