(It’s been awhile since I’ve posted one of these, you can see earlier entries in this series here):
On the night before I Easter I ate a grilled lamb. Not the entire thing, exactly, but a meal that had pieces taken from all of the very best lamb-parts, including the skin. It was tasty and made my inner carnivore quite satisfied.
The irony of eating a lamb on Easter weekend didn’t hit me until the following day (when I was ooh-ing over the baby lambs frolicking in the pastures as I drove along). My mind just doesn’t ruminate on Jesus anymore. And my ethical vegetarianism seems rather far behind me right now…
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