It is Holy Friday.
Jesus is dead. And so are the hopes of Jesus’ followers. And when hope moves out, fear and fear’s friends quickly move in.
Mary tenderly holds the lifeless body of her son… her little boy. “What went wrong? He was so full of promise.”
Today is Holy Friday. A new mourning dawns; one with weeping women and dark clothes, and lot’s of stories – “remember the time Jesus…” – peppered with painfully awkward silence.
Today we re-member, we put together the Jesus that the crown, the whip, the cross tore apart.
Peace, dwight
btw – the fat lady… she isn’t even fat yet, and she doesn’t know the words, in fact the music has yet to be written.
Jesus Is Dead
