(RNS) — Kilmar Abrego Garcia sits in a megaprison in El Salvador. Stopped last month while driving home from work by federal agents with his 5-year-old son in the back seat, he was illegally deported due to “administrative error,” according to the Immigration and Customs Enforcement agency. The prison has been described as a labor camp. Garcia is not safe.
He’s one of hundreds of migrants “disappeared” through deportation in the last two months as federal agents invade neighborhoods, lurk outside food pantries and separate parents from young children.
Rome’s imperial agents wanted Jesus to be “disappeared.” The Romans who governed Judea attempted to silence Jesus and frighten his followers into submission. Crucifixion was a public spectacle of oppression. Fear was the point.
This week, Christians around the world spend time in prayer and reflection as we remember Jesus’ death and prepare for Easter celebrations on Sunday morning. Good Friday serves as a solemn day weighted with tradition.
Good Friday also shows us that God stands with us always. Jesus’ crucifixion was a radical act of solidarity. We can’t be disappeared. Oppression isn’t the way of God. Fear doesn’t win.
In this way, Good Friday represents more than a time for reflection; it is a call to action. It’s a call to take seriously the meaning of the cross in a time when people’s lives and livelihoods are at stake. At a time when the love of God must be known through the pursuit of justice.
Jesus’ ministry was defined by his identification with the marginalized — the poor, the sick, the outcasts. He didn’t just speak about caring for the needy; he embodied it through his actions. He healed the sick, fed the hungry, welcomed the excluded and stood with those whom society had cast aside. His was not a passive compassion; it was an active demonstration of love and justice.
Moreover, Jesus confronted the structures that oppressed and dehumanized people. He pronounced woes on the rich and powerful who ignored the cries of the poor and the oppressed. He boldly declared that it would be easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the Kingdom of God. This wasn’t just a spiritual teaching; it was a direct critique of the economic and social systems that perpetuated injustice.
Jesus also spoke fiercely against the leaders of his time. He called Herod, the ruler of Galilee, a “fox.” This wasn’t a personal insult, but a sharp critique of political rulers who prioritized their own power over the well-being of the people they were meant to serve. It was a condemnation of the political culture that upheld self-interest at the expense of justice.
It’s no surprise, then, that Jesus’ ministry aroused animosity among the ruling authorities. His refusal to cooperate with the political and religious systems that trampled the dignity of the poor, the marginalized and the disenfranchised made him a threat to the powers that be. In the end, the political and religious authorities of the first-century Roman world joined forces to eliminate the “Jesus problem,” and they did so by crucifying him.
In this, we see a stark parallel to our own time. The cross is, at its core, a symbol of God’s love — a love that confronts the extremities of human hate with the vast power of divine justice. It’s a reminder that God’s love is not abstract, but incarnate in the fight for justice. The crucifixion of Jesus shows us that when it comes to injustice there is no neutrality. Jesus’ commitment to God’s justice is clear, and it challenges all of us who claim to follow him to stand on the side of the oppressed.
We are living in a moment in which the church is once again being called to take seriously the cross at the center of its faith. Just as Jesus confronted the injustices of his time, so too must the church confront the injustices of ours. This means speaking out against economic inequality, racism, exploitation and any system that benefits the few while leaving the many to suffer. It means rejecting any form of Christianity that lends legitimacy to bigotry, in the guise of white Christian nationalism or of any other harmful ideology. It means standing with those whose humanity is denied, with those being criminalized for who they are. It means speaking truth to power.
Tyranny and totalitarianism thrive when fear silences resistance. Good Friday tells us that standing for justice will not always be popular or safe. Just as Jesus was crucified for challenging the status quo, so too may the church face opposition for challenging today’s powers. The cross reminds us that true discipleship is not about comfort or safety; it’s about faithfully following the path of Jesus, no matter the cost. We can’t be silenced.
The church today is called to stand against the political, cultural and economic forces that threaten not just democracy but our very humanity. As we reflect on the crucifixion of Jesus, we must also reflect on what it means for us today. It’s not enough to merely acknowledge Jesus’ sacrifice; we must take seriously the implications of his life, death and resurrection.
On Good Friday, Christians reflect on the profound weight of what this day represents: a time when we remember the crucifixion of Jesus, the pivotal moment in the Christian faith.
On this Good Friday, we remember Kilmar Abrego Garcia and all those under threat in our prayers. Jesus’ death serves as a divine act of redemption for our collective salvation. The solidarity that Jesus offered on the cross long ago calls us to stand up to oppression today. We can’t be disappeared. Fear doesn’t win.
(The Rev. Kelly Brown Douglas, the canon theologian at Washington National Cathedral, is currently a visiting professor at Harvard Divinity School. The Rt. Rev. Matthew Heyd is the 17th bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of New York. The views expressed in this commentary do not necessarily reflect those of RNS.)