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Rosa
sericea ssp. omeiensis f. pteracantha
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Passover
In the Book of
Exodus, God helped the Israelites escape from slavery in ancient Egypt by
inflicting ten plagues upon the Egyptians before the Pharaoh would release the
Israelite slaves. The last of the plagues was the death of the Egyptian first-born.
The Israelites were instructed to mark the doorposts of their homes with the
blood of a slaughtered spring lamb and, upon seeing this, the spirit of the
Lord knew to pass over the first-born in these homes, hence the English name of
the holiday.
Wikipedia
I will never understand those who write in social media,
“Happy Good Friday”.
One of the fundamental Roman Catholic sacraments, third
in line in order of adoption (and even a jazz standard by Charlie Parker) after
baptism and first communion is confirmation. This sacrament makes the confirmand
(I am one) be responsible for being a defender of the faith. This does not
imply that one must pick up a sword. What it means is that the confirmand must
study Roman Catholic doctrine in order
to explain it to anybody who might enquire.
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Passover is an important feast for those of the Jewish
faith but if you understand its origin you will realize that it is not a happy
one for would-be Egyptians of old. The dying of their firstborns was to be
repeated in the account in the New Testament of King Herod being paranoid about
a baby who was to become King of the Jews.
It is my point here not to proselytize or rant of this
religion versus another. My purpose is to explain that within the questionable
logic behind most religions (consider the Holy Trinity of one God with three
distinct persons) is that if one studies them one is surely to become more
tolerant of them all.
My grandmother who was born in the 19th
century and was educated in Spain brought with her all sort of racist and
religious views even though she was an avid Roman Catholic church goer. As a
little boy I had to contrast her view that the Jews had killed Christ with that
of a round-faced Capuchin monk who stopped my friend Mario Hertzberg and me on
the street in Buenos Aires to ask us if we went to church. I told him that I did but that my
friend didn’t because he was Jewish. The monk with a big smile on his face
said, “You both worship the same God.”
That was a lesson I never forgot. To this day I keep my
religious beliefs to myself as I consider them private.
But it is difficult for me to forget Brother Edwin
Reggio, C.S.C.’s theology class in the late 50s in Austin, in which he told us
of Aritstotle’s unmoved mover as one of the first philosophic definitions of
god.
In this Good Friday, a silent one more than ever, I find it
appropriate to reminisce and delve into my religious and spiritual past to help
me bring an understanding and even order to the events that occupy us now to the
point of obsession.