"Forgive them, for they know not what they do."
I attended a Good Friday Christian church service last week. A friend of a friend was playing his soprano sax during the service, and the aim was to hear his playing and then join him for dinner and drinks afterwards. Having had a fling with Catholicism a few years ago, I expected to find a few moments in the ritual service that might “fill my cup” however superficially. The music was very good, with a vocalist playing piano and our friend on sax. And that’s about where anything of value ended. The service consisted of several men and women coming forward to vamp on each of the seven statements Christ is reported to have made on the cross. Each of these was introduced by a clip depicting the crucifixion from Mel Gibson’s Christ Movie in which JC hangs from nails, flesh gashed and bruised, his body a network of open bleeding lacerations – he looks like a pound of ground sirloin. With one exception, a woman who reacted emotionally to her own experience of sacrifice, the explainers off