Good Friday is here. We are so close to Easter, but Resurrection doesn’t mean much if we haven’t entered into Christ’s Passion. If you have a chance, try to read from T.S. Eliot’s Four Quartets, particularly East Coker, IV.
The wounded surgeon plies the steel
That questions the distempered part;
Beneath the bleeding hands we feel
The sharp compassion of the healer’s art
Resolving the enigma of the fever chart.
Our only health is the disease
If we obey the dying nurse
Whose constant care is not to please
But to remind of our, and Adam’s curse,
And that, to be restored, our sickness must grow worse…