The thing is that in the middle of our chaos and violence, our injustice and inhumanity, in the middle of the Good Friday we’ve made of this world, Christ is there.

It is easy to get depressed, or sometimes bitter, taking stock of the world, of how it’s all messed up—the violence, the cruelty, the strange politics. Angry, we can often covet power, wield power, wage violence against violence, calling our violence, of course, just. Sometimes also, some curse God for it: for all the accidents and disasters of the world; where is God, some ask. It is a rather hellish noise, all of it, all this anger and bitterness and violence. It’s like Good Friday, our world every day. And it’s easy to despair, to wonder where hope went.

But, as I said, the thing is Christ is there. Which is a lesson from Luke’s Gospel, from his account of the crucifixion. Surrounded by mockery and bitterness, most couldn’t see what was going on, couldn’t recognize the act of love which was the sacrifice Christ offered in their midst. Only a few disciples, only the good thief saw. “Remember me,” he prayed (Lk 23:42). There in the darkness, surrounded by anger, only he really understood. Because he turned from himself to behold the crucified, his beautiful innocence nailed.

There is much to contemplate here, but only this will have to do. We should learn from the good thief how to find and how to see Jesus. In this dark and divided world of ours, we shouldn’t waste time with bitterness and mockery; but instead, we should look for Jesus in our midst (because he’s here) and pray simply, “Remember me.” This is the Christian task in an angry world, our simplest, most important task: to be those who look for Christ and pray, so that we may hear the promise of paradise and see the kingdom come.