Just Question Marks

EVERY BREATH WE TAKE, EVERY MOVE WE MAKE seem to finish with “?“

It seems to have been so since time immemorial.
(TO QUESTION might be a motto engraved in every step covering our university campus.  But many seem to thread over it without realising it.)
One great-grandfather asked:  How am I going to be fore-father of millions if my wife is barren?
A childless couple argues about God’s reaction to their plight. Is there a push-button for true healing?
Is there such a behaviour which can be called: CLEAN politics?
Is the other side of the HOSANNAH coin:  CRUCIFY HIM?
Does the splattering blood of the scourged blemish the face of the one who is scourging?Is the cross some form of ‘ladder’ towards maturity?
Is man’s inhumanity to man insurmountable?
Are our everyday life rituals (at home, along our streets, in our churches, ‘fuq iz-zuntier’) truly rituals, or just ‘business as usual’?

Is the Madonna only a lucky charm around our necks or can she accompany her Son’s “com-passion”?

Is all this another carnival or April’s fool joke?
In life there rarely is a clear-cut EITHER/OR. Therefore a question within a question crops up: Why does God (is He here-there-everywhere?) sometimes demand it?How can the cross which mirrors our questions shed light leading to inner peace?
Are suffering and joy intrinsically intertwined?
Is life boring without questions?
Can searching for answers in itself be fulfilling?

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