Why We Strip the Altar: A Holy Emptiness Before Good Friday

On Maundy Thursday, after we remember Jesus’ last meal with the disciples, after we hear the command to love one another, after we share in Holy Communion—something unexpected happens. The altar is stripped. The candles are snuffed out. The paraments are taken down. The sanctuary is emptied of all signs of celebration.

It feels jarring. It’s supposed to.

This ancient practice of stripping the altar helps prepare us for Good Friday. It’s a visible, tactile way of entering into the story of Jesus’ suffering and death. As the sacred space is slowly emptied, we are reminded of how Jesus was betrayed, abandoned, and handed over to suffering and death. One by one, the symbols of our worship are taken away, just as Jesus was stripped of His garments and dignity.

But this isn’t just about sadness. It’s also about love.

We worship a God who chose vulnerability. In Jesus, God entered into the fullness of human experience—including pain, injustice, and death—not from a distance, but in solidarity with us. When the altar is stripped, we witness a holy emptiness. It prepares us to sit with the silence of the tomb, the weight of loss, and the mystery of divine love poured out completely. It reminds us that the only thing we need is the cross of Christ.

We don’t rush past Good Friday to get to Easter. We walk slowly, together. We let the starkness of the empty altar speak. We let the absence of beauty reveal something even more beautiful: that nothing—not betrayal, not death, not the darkest night—can separate us from the love of God made known in Christ.

So on Maundy Thursday, when the altar is bare and the lights are dimmed, we invite you to pause. To watch. To feel. To remember. And to wait in hope.

Because even in emptiness, God is near.