Mar 26, 2005

More Terri, less Terri.

Last night at Good Friday's Tennebrae service, we read Psalm 22 (a meditation on which by Wm. Stringfellow I had read earlier in the day). I couldn't help but think of Terri Schiavo as we read these lines in the darkening church:

12 Many bulls surround me;

strong bulls of Bashan encircle me.

13 Roaring lions tearing their prey

open their mouths wide against me.

14 I am poured out like water,

and all my bones are out of joint.

My heart has turned to wax;

it has melted away within me.

15 My strength is dried up like a potsherd,

and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth;

you lay me in the dust of death.

16 Dogs have surrounded me;

a band of evil men has encircled me,

they have pierced my hands and my feet.

17 I can count all my bones;

people stare and gloat over me.

18 They divide my garments among them

and cast lots for my clothing.

I thought and prayed about her dehydration, cracking lips, and Terri's body as broken potsherds. I thought and prayer about the needles and I.V.s that have pierced her hands. If you've followed my comments on this, then you know that I do not see any heros here, with the possible exception of Terri.

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