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“Good” is not the “G” in TGIF

April 19, 2019

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In about 5 or 8 hours, in Sorrento, Italy, 500 or so men (only men) stage an Event.

They don robes that are what the KKK seemed to channel (hooded full body/head cloaks with eye holes and cone peak tops) and march, as units thru the Perfect old town in an ancient service of Good Friday.

What I do not know is legion, but I know the KKK/Christ allusion creeps out this ignorant yank – and according to our guide, a lot of touristas. But the “Processione” has full human commitment in a secularizing time, so much so that the 500 marchers inhererit their place, no room for volunteers.

I could show the pics, troll and cackle, but that is simply not the point. And the image for those involved is deeply holy, pungently cultural, embodying history – and for others, like me, who can only guess at hundreds of years of expressed devotion this March is just a bit terrifying. And that is perfect.

Because today is a day of us humans.

For we ignorant tourists, the entire God thing is a lot like that the Sorrento “Processione”: inaccessible, full of horrific potentials, anachronistic, just plain weird. I think it is weird because humans, we, are weird.

I think we are, I am, weird, because we have an extreme need to express, define, enforce and confirm our full lack of weirdness. We need to know, prove, that we have Truth, and need to make that truth everyone’s truth, because it is The truth. So we make 440 page reports on presidents with endless hours of decrying or exalting perfection. We see ratings, grades, salaries, college acceptance, resumes as evidence that we are not weird.

But we are also weird because we are without a huge, essential, lack of understanding: we are finally clueless about death, gravity, dark matter, chromosomes, and, well, God. So we build Canon so high and deep that cathedrals get so huge, and central and focal that in even a fully God-Denying culture, when a fire wrecks one, the western world fully convulses.

But we do not know why we are convulsing. We do not really get what is going on around or in us, so we build things, March with robes on, get into USC.

But we do know some things. I crack when I think of anyone dying. But we know, sort of, that everyone dies. We even know, when we can, that we die, too.

So a guy dies 2,000 years ago. Some try to say that is just as impossible to know as anything else that happened 2,000 years ago. It’s easier to deny death with massive cathedrals of constructed truths of the here and now. But, no, cut the crap, a guy a lot of people saw, and then told a lot more people about, and a plain old chronicler or two, with no axe to grind, mentioned it in the “real time” that we have of antiquity.

Get over yourself: it happened.

The guy who died was one of thousands that got the crap beaten out of him every year in a backwater Hell hole and had a public death March and celebration of his complete powerlessness made a full on show. No jive here. No spin. No hope. No canon, No cathedral.

Just death. And we remember it because we cannot shake how shook some, but quite a few, were at the time. Some mock it to deal with it; a hilarious “Colorforms Jesus” joke toy had a press on “TGIF” plaque to set upon the top of the Colorforms Cross in lieu of the one attributed as saying “King of the Jews”. Pretty sure the Romans would have done that too, if they could.

Who knows if all the particulars of who, where, how, are fully validating. The reality of death does not need validation. Neither does gravity, dark matter or chromosomes. They are. We just do not understand them.

What we want to understand we swaddle in 440 page reports times a zillion in Canon, vitae’s, endless validations and justifications.

I know so little that I have never gotten the “Good” in Good Friday. Stop: I know – “the-ressurection-could-not-have-happened-without-His-death” – I know, I know, but c’mon. Another guy, like all the other guys, like me, you, your mom, your kid, gets completely wrecked to death. Not good. But we remember it.

Its human.

Its Human Friday.

Why we remember it, why some us know there is something more, is because in a few days, no matter how many cathedrals burn, something happened. We cannot design, deduce, manipulate the little we can verify into proof. There is no video. There is no 440 page report.

I know something happened on Sunday. Not next Sunday, but that Sunday. Jesus died for no good reason other than it was Good. It was Easter.

 

One Comment leave one →
  1. August 6, 2019 10:13 am

    I was taught it was Good Friday not because he died, but because that was the victory over the devil, the victory over death itself. The victory (like every foreign war) happens on the field of battle, and the resurrection was the coming-home party for the victor. All those people that died and were resurrected earlier in the bible eventually died again. This resurrection was different in that it was permanent.

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