Good Friday…

One of the things I found most dispiriting about growing up as the son of a preacher man was having to listen to the same sermons over and over again, knowing full well that he expected me to be moved by the Holy Spirit anew each time. In fact, only the wife of a vainglorious politician could possibly appreciate how numb and unresponsive my mind, to say nothing of my soul, became - by the time I was 10 – whenever I heard “inspired” sermons from the pulpit that I could parrot (in unison) from my seat.

But I never grew tired of the rituals that attended the Easter Season. Indeed, I recall that - even as others affected the countenance each religious occasion warranted (e.g., being appropriately maudlin on Good Friday to mourn the crucifixion of Jesus Christ and joyous on Easter Sunday to celebrate his resurrection) - I could never disguise the spirit of suspended animation that got me through it all. Alas, my countenance was due entirely to the anticipation of what fun Easter Monday would bring – as the first beach holiday of the year in the Commonwealth Caribbean.

But oh the guilt I was made to suffer for supplanting religious pathos with this hedonistic inspiration during the holiest days on the Christian calendar. Thank God I deduced before the end of my wayward-teenage years that He had forgiven not only my playful thoughts but also the diabolical pleasure I derived from playing one of the soldiers who flogged Jesus Christ – as he crawled his way to Golgotha – in the passion plays our Church performed every Easter.

Therefore, here’s my own Good-Friday message to Christian parents whose little children will faithfully abide church services throughout this weekend just as I did when I was a child:

God will forgive the little ones for not getting all worked up each year for the scripted homage to his crucifixion and resurrection. (In fact, He’ll even forgive them for not writhing with the Holy Ghost on cue at revivals where, as I recall, only the souls of mischievous children, not those of sinful adults, seemed in need of reviving.) Moreover, He will not ruin their lives if the only spirit that moves them at Easter time is the one that gets them to the beach on Easter Monday….Trust me!

But, for the more open-minded amongst you, if you really must wallow in the macabre passions of the season, buy Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ DVD to watch as a family. Because, more than any Easter homily or play, it will evoke the funereal emotions of the season, as well as convey (in refreshing and entertaining fashion) the expiatory significance of these familiar words:

For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son, that whosoever believeth in him shall not perish but have everlasting life.

With that, and given the Pharisaic standards that govern conduct in most churches, it will probably surprise none of you that the elders of my church cursed me long ago (in the name of Lord, of course) as a backsliding reprobate. Yet I have no fear of burning in hell by testifying here, in good faith, that, in the eyes of God, I have a more spiritual temperament and live a more Christ-like life than the many Tartuffes who bored me with their sermons in my youth!

HAPPY EASTER…Monday!