. . . on the passion and death of Christ—Mel Gibson stuff, imagining it all in detail.
When Gibson’s movie came out, I was not tempted to see it and did not, having already spent a week immersed in this gruesome denouement. Shades were drawn again, mood turned somber, laughter disappeared, the novice master did not smile.
For five or so days, we went chapter and verse, line by line through the grim tale. We imagined details—whips, nails, betrayal, agony of prayer, submission to the will of the father, burlesque-like denial by Peter, the sorrows of the mother, the loyalty of the women friends. . . .
Read the rest here. . . .

