Were you there when. . .

First, a bit of recognition and recommendation. A young friend of mine, Ashly, is writing in a blog. It's called The Crunchy Conscience, and it touches on ways we can be better stewards of this good earth. Please read and enjoy. I do.

For Catholics, Lent does not end on Easter Sunday. It ends the Thursday before - at the beginning of the Holy Thursday evening Mass. For us at St. Mary's, Davenport, that's 7 PM. My, oh my, the Lord does impose a lot on us, doesn't He? Supper here wasn't going to be done by 7, and we're on a fast from the start of this Mass on, so I had to get in my car, drive across town to McDonald's and eat about an hour before we normally eat so I'd be done in time. And, we've put up with fish on Fridays (I like fish when it's not a "hafta"), and confession, and - well, we had the Davenport version of a traffic jam, and, and. . .

They led him to Pilate's bar.

Not a word, not a word, not a word.

They led him to Pilate's bar.

Not a word, not a word, not a word.

They led him to Pilate's bar.

But he never said a mumblin' word. 

Not a word, not a word, not a word..

They all cried, "Crucify him."

Thus was my day after work. And, work - well, let me tell ya. One day after another - do you know I have to get up at 5 - freaking - 30!!! Drag myself into the shower, scrape my face, drive into the blinding sunlight, yada, yada, yada, just to do it all over again tomorrow. What an imposition!

They nailed Him to the tree.

Not a word, not a word, not a word.

They nailed Him to the tree.

Not a word, not a word, not a word.

They nailed Him to the tree. 

 But he never said a mumblin' word. 

Not a word, not a word, not a word.

Besides, I've had the sniffles, the sneezes, this miserable head cold. And everyone just insists on not acting the way I want them to, and they don't all want to just talk about how magnificent they think I am - they actually have the nerve to suggest I might do some things differently. There's chutzpah for you! I mean, talk about bad for my self-image. . .

They pierced Him in the side.

Not a word, not a word, not a word.

They pierced Him in the side.

Not a word, not a word, not a word.

They pierced Him in the side.  

 But he never said a mumblin' word. 

Not a word, not a word, not a word.

The things I think are such major issues are pretty small change, really and truly.  In fact, the things I have imposed on others have been much more onerous than anything placed on me. So, I will be at the Mass tonight. I will be the lector and reader at the Good Friday service tomorrow night. And, I will be at the Easter Vigil Saturday night. Because He never said a mumblin' word about what He did for me. For all of us.

And, if during the past year, or at any time, I have offended, hurt or in any way harmed or even diminished any of you, please know how sorry I am, and accept the most heartfelt apology I know how to offer.

Were you there when they crucified my Lord?

Were you there when they crucified my Lord?

Oh, sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble.

Were you there when they crucified my Lord?

I was.