“While I was still Catholic Chaplain at the University of Toronto’s Newman Center, a wonderful, elderly Catholic woman confided to me one Good Friday the struggles that she and her family were having with the acceptance of the cross as the central symbol of the Christian life. The woman wept as she expressed concern about her own daughter’s troubled faith, and she shared with me a poem that her daughter, Hanna had written about the cross.
“Far from describing a lack of faith, the poem reveals the raw faith and deep love that the mystery of Good Friday elicits from all Christians throughout the world on this day. The poem reads:
