There's been a feeling creeping up the back of my mind for the last several years, lingering around that analytical part of my brain and tickling the bottoms of my sensibilities.
The feeling is this: Good Friday shouldn't be called 'Good' at all.
What was good about the leather and lead that took first flesh, then muscle, then tendon, then bone?
What good was there in thorny spikes invading that tender space between scalp and skull?
Was it good that a Man fell under the weight of His own death trap? Or that nails were driven through feet that had walked countless miles to give love and hands that had touched the untouchable?
What can we call good in the baseness of Roman soldiers who thought so little of killing that they played dice games while blood dripped?
What was good about that horrible day when the sky was a black funerary shroud and the earth convulsed in its grief?
I think they need to rename the day.
--Teri.
2 comments:
You know, I've thought the same things for many years. But recently I've had a new appreciation for this oxymoron. You know how sometimes people say- "You don't know what you've got till it's gone", well that's sorta how I see this. If this "good" day wasn't filled with horrible torture and undo punishment, there would not be a single good thing about our lives. We would have no hope. No future promise, our lives would be useless, meaningless, suffering for no good reason. But because of the torture, because of the crime, we now have HOPE! Our debt was paid on that awful good day. So was it sad and painful what happened- yes. But was it bad? No way! It is the only good thing that has ever truly happened.
I dunno. I don't mean to get all preachy about this, but I guess since I've experienced so much death and so much pain, it gives me a new appreciation for life and things just look a little different to me.
Well said, Sara. Thanks for the perspective. :)
--Teri.
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