There is the transitioning of the world. And in its relentless machinating there are only two experiences that give us any sense of the real: death and love. The calendar, the clock are both all too human inventions that by no means capture the essence of what it means to be in the world for a certain duration. It’s only death, and love, yours and mine, closer and closer, which seem to offer any sort of glimpse into understanding what existence is all about. The symbol (and everyday reality) of Christ on the Cross is, perhaps, a better register for what it means to be alive within time. We are nailed to this blue and green Earth, our animal arms pierced to the beams of death and love with our heads looking wearingly to the sky, waiting, for a God to save us.