Fr. Dwight doesn’t like…

resurrucifixes.  I’m not super keen on them either.  I sometimes fancy that part of the reason the death and resurrection of Jesus have this curious three day span between them is precisely to emphasize the really truly deadness of his death in order to emphasize the really truly aliveness of his resurrection.  Resurrucifixes tend to blur that.  They feel like our a product of the Pepsi Generation trying to hurry past all that death business in order to get to Yoda, Obiwan and Anakin looking all glowy and happy.  A crucifix is *supposed* to rub our nose in death.  We’ll get to the Resurrection, never you fear.  But pause and remember the cost.

That said, it’s an aesthetic judgment and I try to charitably suppose that an artist who makes such things has pious intentions.  So I refused to join in all the bedwetting and hysteria when somebody gave the pope a resurrucifix a few weeks ago.  Life is too short for constant panic attacks over such ephemera.

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