Osler's Razor

The profoundly dark experience of prosecuting Christ this past week has transformed the way I see Good Friday. There is a rhythm to trial, and there is one to this, too

This is a day (the day of Jesus's crucifixion) that marks the worst in us, our darkest moment, but there is hope in it, too. Without Good Friday, there is no Easter. I am struck, for the first time, with a sense of thankfulness for Good Friday, which is a part of the cycle God directed, part of the cycle we all live within and through, and there is always the hope for an Easter. In my prosecution of Christ, that cycle was run in full recently, from the moment I entered the dank tunnel of cynicism through to the day I was "HoCo'd"-- that is, when I felt the intense, pure and true love of the people of the Church of the Holy Comforter (HoCo) in Richmond this past Sunday.

Last night, I went to a Seder at the home of my colleague Joel Nichols and his wife Jennifer, and they did a wonderful job with it. There was a lot to celebrate-- Joel won a big St. Thomas award recently for his scholarship (his book is about to be published by Cambridge University Press), and Susan Stabile was there having recently heard that her next book will be published by the Oxford University Press. I'm the slacker in this crowd, obviously.

We ate the bitter herbs, heard the questions and the answers, drank the four cups, and mixed hardship with joy, the cycle of life ancient and undenied.

In the end, of course, I come away with thankfulness. I want to haiku about that tonight. You can be thankful about anything you would like... just have the first line be "For this I give thanks," followed by (about) seven syllables, and a third line of five (give or take) syllables.

Here is mine:

For this I give thanks:
Bitter roots, longing, and love
Unleavened hope.

Now it is your turn...