Good Friday immerses us in the heart of Christ’s Passion, a night dense with events that forever marked the history of humanity. But what if we tried to cross the threshold of that account, ceasing to be mere spectators and becoming, in some way, protagonists of that night?
Each character in the Passion - Judas, Peter, Pilate - carries with them a fragment of our own contradictions. In this series of reflections, we will seek to enter into their experiences to recognize something of ourselves, and allow ourselves to be questioned by the mercy that passes through even the deepest darkness.
Judas. The Burden of Loneliness
Judas Iscariot opens the dramatic account of the Passion. Often dismissed as “the traitor,” his figure is, in reality, shrouded in profound questions. What drove him to hand over the Master? Disappointment? Anger? Greed? Perhaps an inner loneliness so deep that he could find no place even within the close circle of the Twelve.
Don Bruno emphasizes that Judas, although he was “one of the Twelve,” lives an existential loneliness that turns into a fatal loneliness. We cannot help but ask ourselves: how many times do we too feel misunderstood, prisoners of an inner conflict that we cannot share?
Judas’s story urges us not to withdraw into ourselves, but to open ourselves to that brother or sister who can turn us away from dark intentions. Condemning Judas is of no use; what matters is preventing new Judases from arising within us, by learning to discern the voices that dwell in our hearts.
Let us look upon Judas with fraternal compassion, remembering that even at the moment of betrayal Jesus calls him “friend.” This word resounds as a warning: we can betray Christ’s friendship, but Christ never betrays us. Judas’s drama reminds us of our frailty and our constant need never to feel safe from the assaults of evil.
Peter. Between Impulse and Frailty
Immediately after Judas, the scene is occupied by Simon Peter: the man of generous impulses, but also of unexpected frailties. On the night of the Passion, he moves from ostentatious confidence to denial three times.
His story speaks to us of the difficulty of remaining consistent with our ideals, and of how often words clash with fear and the weakness of the moment. That “I do not know him!” is not merely a lie, but perhaps the bitter realization that this suffering and helpless Jesus does not correspond to the image of the powerful Messiah he had built for himself. Peter’s myth of the Lord collapses.
And yet, immediately after the denial, Jesus’ gaze meets his, dissolving his pain in liberating tears. In those tears, we recognize the possibility of conversion, a journey not toward a perfection to be pursued in solitude, but directed toward serving the faith of one’s brothers and sisters. Peter’s fragility does not exclude him from his task; indeed, the Church itself is a people of forgiven sinners.
Pilate. The man who could not choose
Pilate, the Roman procurator, enters the scene as a man of power, called upon to judge. But that night, he reveals himself to be a man incapable of making a decision according to his conscience. Although he senses Jesus’ innocence, he prefers to wash his hands, yielding to pressure and fear of losing power.
Pilate’s “sin” is etymological: Pilate misses the mark; he uses his energies for what is fleeting. His story challenges us to examine our fears, the labels we stick on ourselves, and the masks we wear for convenience. How many times do we, too, even when we glimpse the truth, choose the easier path, missing the opportunity to be fully authentic?
Despite his cowardice, Pilate performs an act that, unknowingly, testifies to the truth about Jesus: he has “Jesus the Nazarene, the King of the Jews” written on the cross in several languages.
Even in our “crosses,” we often find that same signature, a sign that God knows how to write straight on the crooked lines of our story.
Protagonists today. An invitation to reflection
The stories of Judas, Peter, and Pilate are not confined to a distant past.
We are Judas, Peter, and Pilate. In their inner struggles and fragility, we can glimpse our own. The night of the Passion calls us to a profound examination of conscience:
• Which forms of loneliness hold us captive? Do we seek the courage to open ourselves to others?
• How firm is our faith when faced with difficulties? Do we recognize our weaknesses?
• Are we capable of making courageous choices, even when they put our “peace of mind” at risk? Or do we prefer to “wash our hands”?
This Good Friday, let us not limit ourselves to observing the drama of Jesus Christ from a distance. Let us enter that night with our frailties and fears, but also with the desire to meet the gaze of a God who loves us despite everything. Because, as Father Bruno Tarantino reminds us, we lost ourselves in his gaze, but that does not mean we were lost from his gaze. Encountering Jesus does not go unnoticed; it leaves an indelible mark, even when we choose not to follow him.
May this night of Passion become for each of us a moment of intimate reflection and renewed awareness that we are protagonists in a story of infinite love.
Would you like to explore these reflections further?
In the book Night of Passion. Night of Passions, Father Bruno Tarantino guides us through the faces and hearts of that night: Judas, Peter, Pilate… Human, fragile figures in whom we can recognize parts of our own story.
An inner journey to experience Good Friday not merely as spectators, but as protagonists touched by mercy.
Which inner struggle did you identify with most? Judas, Peter, or Pilate? Tell us in the comments, and if you want to experience a Good Friday as a protagonist, Night of Passion Night of Passions by Father Bruno Tarantino can be a valuable help. Don’t miss this profound reflection!
