Good Friday at our house is not the somber occasion I often think it ought to be. But we begin with Stations of the Cross with our local Faith & Light group, which is something, anyway. Tonight for supper, it’s pizza (no pepperoni!) in the shape of a cross–a request one of my sons made a few years ago. And I will listen to this a few more times, in quiet moments:
Pisces
Who said to the trout,
You shall die on Good Friday
To be food for a man
And his pretty lady?
You shall die on Good Friday
To be food for a man
And his pretty lady?
It was I, said God,
Who formed the roses
In the delicate flesh
And the tooth that bruises.
Who formed the roses
In the delicate flesh
And the tooth that bruises.
-RS Thomas
a theologian in the family 