The Jewish calendar was full of feast days. Every Sabbath was a holy convocation when God’s people were given a day off to rest, worship and celebrate together (Lev. 23:3). They also enjoyed the three “pilgrim festivals” of Passover, Weeks and Tabernacles where at least the household representative would appear in Jerusalem but sometimes the whole family would make the trek. This is Old Covenant family vacation, road trips to remember.

Only once a year was Israel commanded to fast and afflict their souls on Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement (Lev. 23:27). Many other occasional fasts took place for repentance, blessing, preparation, consecration etc, but only one calender fast existed. Many Christians turn this season of Lent into 40 days (minus Lord’s Days which are always feasts) of fasting and affliction, but this is a lop-sided expression of faith. The Church has come into her majority, and although we fast because the bridegroom has gone away, it makes no sense to fast more cyclically now than at any other time in history. The disciples fast frequently in the book of Acts always in preparation for mission or for other particular circumstances.

With that ground cleared, today, Good Friday, is the day when we remember the slaughter of the Lamb of God who took away the sin of the world. If there was ever a fast day, this is it. Obviously the Jews didn’t fast to gain God’s favor or somehow hasten the Messiah’s coming. By faith, they reflected on their own sinfulness and trusted in God’s provision to atone for it. They were to remember these things regularly in synagogue and temple worship, as well as throughout their lives, but once a year God called a day-long fast to bless his people.

Roman crucifixion was barbarous. Men often died in the beating that led up to it. Women were seldom crucified because, even before Christianity brought about the biblical honor of women, it was thought too harsh a punishment. I think it was Cicero who said crucifixion was the most wretched of deaths, not even to be spoken of by a Roman citizen. Jesus was betrayed by his friends, those whom he had loved and served constantly for three years, and left to endure beating, scourging, condemning, mocking and then the torture of hanging on the cross itself. We get the word “excruciating” from the words for cross and crucify. The crucified would often die of asphyxiation when they could no longer lift themselves up to take a breath. This was prolonged by placing a partial seat underneath their buttocks that would allow them to live longer, pushing up both by their nailed feet and this semi-supportive seat. Jesus finally ran out of bodily strength and “breathed his last”, took his final gulp of air.

The physical horror of the cross is well known, and while many criminals and innocents died this way, the utterly unique and worst thing about Jesus’ death was his separation from his Father. It was on the cross that “he who knew no sin became sin for us.” As fully man, Jesus had grown in wisdom and stature, in favor with men and with God (Luke 2:52). As the new Adam, he had a devoted faith and perfect obedience, the sweetest communion with his Father and God, and his submission exhibited in Gethsemane–not my will, but yours be done–reveals the strength of his love. It’s perilously easy to read the passion of Christ with docetic eyes, thinking that because he was God, the suffering, the temptations to doubt, the fear and reception of physical pain, the devastation over betrayal by his disciples, the barbs of scorn and hatred were somehow felt less in his humanity than you or I would have. If anything, he felt it more. More because his love for his friends, his nation, even his enemies, but above all and driving all, for His Father were more than any other human being in the history of the world. This was Love itself abandoned by his own. This is what we did to God, what he did to himself because of his great love for us. “For scarcely for a righteous man will one die; yet perhaps for a good man someone would even dare to die. But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”

There is an ungodly “piety” that wants to inflict the soul for being human and wallow in self-pity. The disciples’ sorrow was twofold: natural and healthy at losing their friend through unthinkable criminal “justice”, and unhealthy in not believing what Jesus said he was doing on that tree–drawing all men to himself. If Good Friday teaches us anything, it teaches us not to sorrrow like the world, to suffer for someone else, and all of our meditations and observances should drive us to faith in God and love for others. Even our sin, which we meant for evil, God meant for good. This sorrow leads to repentance, and most wonderfully, resurrection joy.