On my way home from work I pass a church (Methodist, I think) with a large wooden cross out front. On Good Friday the cross is draped in black, or it has been every year for the previous twelve I've worked where I work. This year it wasn't draped. I felt cheated out of a ritual.
My other Good Friday ritual is to read the gospels for the week, the story from the Last Supper to the crucifixion. Even when I was a kid, before I really thought about what or whether I believed, the readings from Palm Sunday through Good Friday were what got me. Easter...eh. I never was moved. But betrayal and murder...that spoke to me, and not in a sensational way. I always knew I could be Peter just before the cock crowed, and I was uneasy about the thought that I could probably be Judas. And even if I haven't shouted for Barabbas, I've stood at the edge of the mob without doing a damn thing.
Posted by Nic at March 25, 2005 06:20 PM