Good Friday Meditation
Good Friday Meditation by John Cardinal O’Connor Weeks of the year come and go, shortening to days as the years mount, till they move so rapidly they become trains rushing by each other in a continuing blur, trains peopled with memories. It must have been so with Christ, as even the days became hours running out of minutes during the week that began on a donkey, seemed to all the world to have ended on a cross, and started all over again in a garden. All the days of His years must have kaleidoscoped through His mind, the years of His mother’s widowhood, of the water into wine, the loaves and fishes and blind men and lepers and Lazarus and the alabaster box of precious ointment. Then the hosannas and the palm and olive branches and only a day or two to sort it all out and be ready for Gethsemane and a bloody sweat, for night lanterns and rough guards and a searing kiss of betraya l. Everything chaotic now, minutes tumbling over one another, time racing onward and ba...