Fr. Chris Metropulos
Holy and Good Friday Sermon 2026
St. Demetrios Church, Ft. Lauderdale, FL
Tonight the Church gathers in solemn silence around the Tomb of Christ. The lights are dim. The incense rises slowly. The Epitaphios rests before us, reminding us that the Son of God has been laid in the grave. And the Church sings the ancient Lamentations the funeral hymns offered to Christ Himself. It is one of the most moving moments in the entire liturgical year.
We sing as though we stand with Joseph of Arimathea, who lovingly takes down the body of Christ from the Cross. We sing as though we stand with the Myrrh-bearing women, who come to anoint His body with tears and spices. We sing as though we stand with the Mother of God herself, whose heart is pierced with sorrow as she gazes upon her Son in the tomb.
The lamentations express grief but they also reveal something deeper. Even in mourning, the Church sings with hope. Tonight I would like to reflect on three truths revealed in the lamentations of Holy and Good Friday.
The Mystery of Divine Humility
The first truth revealed in the lamentations is the astonishing humility of God. One of the hymns declares: “In a grave they laid Thee, O my Life and my Christ.” Think about the mystery contained in those words. The One who is Life itself now lies in a tomb. The One who created the universe now rests in the silence of the grave.
The lamentations repeat this paradox again and again: “The angels were amazed, O Savior, seeing You numbered among the dead.” Heaven itself trembles at the sight. The angels who worship Christ in glory now behold Him lying lifeless in the tomb.
This is the humility of God. Not a humility that simply speaks gentle words, but a humility that descends fully into the depths of the human condition. Christ did not merely observe our suffering from afar. He entered it completely. He accepted betrayal, humiliation, violence, and death. Why? Because divine love is willing to go anywhere in order to rescue the beloved. The tomb of Christ reveals a love deeper than human understanding. A love that holds nothing back.
The Depth of Human Sorrow
The second truth the lamentations reveal is the depth of human grief. Holy Friday forces us to confront the reality of suffering and death. The hymn cries out: “O my sweet springtime, my sweetest Child, where has your beauty gone?” These words echo the sorrow of the Mother of God as she mourns her Son. But they also echo the sorrow that exists in every human heart.
Every person who has stood beside a grave understands this pain. Every person who has lost someone they love knows the weight of this silence. Death has always been humanity’s greatest sorrow. It reminds us of our fragility. It reminds us of the brokenness of the world. It reminds us that something in creation has gone terribly wrong.
The lamentations do not hide this pain. They allow the Church to express it openly. But the lamentations also remind us that Christ has entered even this deepest sorrow. He does not stand outside the human experience. He stands within it. Christ shares the grief of humanity so that humanity may one day share in His life.
The Hidden Victory of Christ
Yet the lamentations are not simply songs of mourning. Hidden within them is the quiet certainty of victory. One of the hymns proclaims: “In the grave with the body, but in Hades with the soul as God.” Christ lies in the tomb — but He is not defeated. Even now He is descending into the depths of Hades. Even now He is breaking the chains of death. Even now He is preparing the victory that will soon be revealed on Pascha.
The lamentations constantly move between sorrow and hope. They mourn the death of Christ, yet they proclaim that this death is destroying death itself. The Church sings: “O Life, how can You die?” The answer is the mystery of salvation. Christ enters death so that death itself may be conquered. The tomb becomes the doorway to resurrection. What appears to be defeat is actually the beginning of victory.
And so even in the darkness of Holy Friday, the Church sings with quiet confidence. Because we know the story is not finished. The tomb is not the end. Resurrection is already approaching.
Standing at the Tomb
Tonight we stand beside the tomb of Christ. We listen to the lamentations. We walk in procession with the Epitaphios. We experience the silence and the sorrow of this sacred moment. But we also stand here with hope. Because the One lying in the tomb is not simply a martyr. He is the Lord of life. The One who created Adam. The One who will soon call Adam — and all humanity — out of the darkness of death.
The lamentations remind us that the love of Christ is stronger than the grave. Stronger than sin. Stronger than death itself.
So tonight the Church mourns.
But our mourning is not despair. It is the sorrow that stands on the threshold of hope. We sing: “We magnify You, O Jesus our King, and we honor Your burial and sufferings whereby You have saved us from corruption.”
The tomb is silent tonight. But it will not remain silent for long. Soon the stone will be rolled away. Soon the angels will proclaim the good news. Soon the world will hear the words that will echo through eternity: Christ is Risen!
But tonight we remain here. Beside the tomb. Listening to the lamentations. Waiting. Praying. Trusting. For even in the darkness of this night, the victory of Christ has already begun.
