Saturday, April 07, 2007

Good Friday

I heard this poem twice yesterday - two different services

It was on the Friday that they ended it all.
Of course,
they didn't do it one by one.
They weren't brave enough.
All the stones at the one time or no stones thrown at all.
They did it in crowds ...
in crowds where you can feel safe
and lose yourself and shout things
you would never shout on your own,
and do things
you would never do
if you felt the camera was watching you.
It was a crowd in the church that did it,
and a crowd in the civil service that did it, and a crowd in the street that did it,
and a crowd on the hill that did it.
And he said nothing.
He took the insults, the bruises,
the spit on the face,
the thongs on the back,
the curses in the ears.
He took the sight of his friends turning away, running away.
And he said nothing.
He let them do their worst
until their worst was done,
as on Friday they ended it all ...
and would have finished themselves had he not cried,
'Father, forgive them ...'
And began the revolution.

According to it is from:
Iona Community, Wild Goose Worship Group, “It was on the Friday,” Stages on the Way, Chicago, IL: GIA Publications, Inc., 2000, pp.159-160

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