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[Chapel Spam (backdated to Fri. 4/18]
[It's Good Friday. At least it is as near as she can tell - what few calendars she's consulted on board point toward this Sunday as Easter. The Protestant Easter, she knows, which is never quite on the same date as the Orthodox Church's. But she has faith in Christ, in His passion and His blood, not the date; and she enters the chapel in mourning dress with a crucifix and her Bible in her hands.
It seems odd to settle in the pew before an altar with no image or sacrament on it. In fact it seems odd to observe the holy day without a mass at all, but she is aware that faith can compensate for a lack of structure. So she opens to the proper passage in the book of Matthew and begins reading the verses again, quietly speaking the familiar words aloud.]
And they stripped him, and put on him a scarlet robe. And when they had platted a crown of thorns, they put it around his head, and a reed in his right hand: and they bowed the knee before him, and mocked him, saying, Hail, King of the Jews! And after that they had mocked him, they took the robe off from him, and put his own raiment on him, and led him away to crucify him.
[Esther wishes the death toll extended this long. The pain had tapered off a few weeks ago, to her great relief, but today she wishes she had it again. Pain was a trial from God, one even His own Son had to put Himself through. Hers, in comparison, wasn't so bad. If Jesus could be beaten, publicly humiliated, and left to die a torturous death, she can soldier through her own suffering. Perhaps she can be better for it.
But that hope is one she won't think of until Sunday, when joy can return.]
[It's Good Friday. At least it is as near as she can tell - what few calendars she's consulted on board point toward this Sunday as Easter. The Protestant Easter, she knows, which is never quite on the same date as the Orthodox Church's. But she has faith in Christ, in His passion and His blood, not the date; and she enters the chapel in mourning dress with a crucifix and her Bible in her hands.
It seems odd to settle in the pew before an altar with no image or sacrament on it. In fact it seems odd to observe the holy day without a mass at all, but she is aware that faith can compensate for a lack of structure. So she opens to the proper passage in the book of Matthew and begins reading the verses again, quietly speaking the familiar words aloud.]
And they stripped him, and put on him a scarlet robe. And when they had platted a crown of thorns, they put it around his head, and a reed in his right hand: and they bowed the knee before him, and mocked him, saying, Hail, King of the Jews! And after that they had mocked him, they took the robe off from him, and put his own raiment on him, and led him away to crucify him.
[Esther wishes the death toll extended this long. The pain had tapered off a few weeks ago, to her great relief, but today she wishes she had it again. Pain was a trial from God, one even His own Son had to put Himself through. Hers, in comparison, wasn't so bad. If Jesus could be beaten, publicly humiliated, and left to die a torturous death, she can soldier through her own suffering. Perhaps she can be better for it.
But that hope is one she won't think of until Sunday, when joy can return.]
