• I wonder if Jesus rolls His eyes anytime He hears we mortal sinners refer to the worst day of His entire life as Good Friday. “Good Friday? Oh, it was the best! One heck of a swell time!” I hope He’s not sarcastic. Sarcasm’d be unbecoming Savior behavior.”
• I wonder if your soul can get sent to hell for being sacrilegious on Earth. I hope not because I’m a sacrilegious as all get out. I don’t do it to disparage friends of faith, whom I admire, but I don’t see the point of having a brain if you didn’t use it. It makes me spiritual soulmates with Thomas Jefferson who said, “Question with boldness even the existence of a God; because, if there be one, he must more approve of the homage of reason, than that of blind-folded fear.”
• I wonder if my grandfather has in his afterlife met either God or Jefferson. He had what to me is one of the great philosophical questions of all time and he said he was going to ask it to God. The question: “I know you created heaven and earth, but who or what created you?”
• I wonder if he remembers me telling him he was being presumptuous about going to heaven. What if, I said, he was sent to the other place and he was allowed to ask Satan one question. What would he ask? Quick as a whip he said, “So when’s Chris getting here?”
• I wonder who determined coronavirus should become COVID-19? I don’t know which I like least.
• I wonder how many people who are ignoring sound science and going to packed Easter Sunday services like to ridicule snake handlers as backwards morons.
• I wonder how the faithful will react if Jesus comes back on Easter but is dressed head-to-toe in military grade PPE.
• I wonder if Lazarus had any siblings and they resented him because he had two birthdays each year.
• I wonder how many of you remember this ’17 story about the Easter Sunday church service when my declining mother nearly choked to death at the altar on a communion wafer. If it’s not sacrilegious it’s at least plenty irreverent.
• I wonder if my friends think I’m being snobby by declining their zoom bull sessions. I generally detest having to talk on the phone and the idea of having to “appear” on it is even more distasteful.
• I wonder if any of you will be impressed that I researched the reason why the day we slayed the Savior is somehow “Good” Friday. Blame it on our nimble, ever-shifting language. Turns out “good” used to mean “holy,” and that, too, was before, thanks to Michael Jackson, that “bad” meant “good.”
• Lastly, I wonder if it makes me a bad person to on this holy Good Friday wish it were just a regular old Good Time Friday.
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