~ Friday, April 13, 2001 ~

 

12:48 p.m. I never know what to do during these three sacred hours that commemorate some of the most awful moments in recorded human history. Of course I wouldn't eat or drink anything -- that goes without saying. But ...

... should I continue working? Work gives me great pleasure and these hours should remind us about what can befall us when we only think about our own pleasure. And work can be mindless, which is its own pleasure. So, no work.

... should I sit and meditate for three hours? I've tried that in the past, and the mind wanders. However, by trying to stay on the point of the meditation: the suffering and the crucifixion of Jesus Christ, I've had many thoughts over the years ...

Foremost is the mob that turned on him. The mob. Otherwise known as his faithful followers, but now that the wind has changed, they are the cause and the source of all pain. It's the same collection of humanity, all things being equal, that used to be the big adoring crowd. Fans. Friends, colleagues, acquaintances, strangers merely passing by. These people must be allowed to feel good about themselves. Sometimes sacrifices must be made.

I hate the mob and I hate my place in it. I wish I weren't such a coward -- afraid to come to the aid of a person being mistreated because I'm afraid (and I know) that if I speak up or if I step in, they will turn on me. So far, thank God, I haven't really ever had to become involved. But I hope, I pray, that if I ever have to step in, I will do it -- with or without courage. I will do it.

The mob reminds us that we are still beasts. The man on the cross reminds us that we are not.