Today in Washington, D.C. the Way of the Cross was enacted along the National Mall.
Through the heart of the city the crowd silently followed a stark black cross held up high in front. This drew more than a few quizzical stares, incredulous frowns, and in one case, panic, as two women hurried to cross the street ahead of the the procession and scurried down the sidewalk as fast as they could walk without running, the cross and its crowd of followers bearing down steadily behind them.
In 1926 Hemmingway wrote a four-page play called Today is Friday. Three roman soldiers shoot the Friday night breeze in a bar and exchange their reactions to the day’s work (another crucifixion). Observe how this single event, which takes place off-stage, produces three different reactions in these men, mostly only hinted at. All three feel compelled to make a judgement of the man (“He was pretty good out there.”) and are oddly changed in relation to this event, and to each other.