Holy Thursday
Together they gathered for Passover,
for his followers
it was what they have always done in the past,
not knowing that something different was about to be implemented,
so
as Jesus watched
seeing those he loved and cherished,
filled with a loneliness that no other could bear,
knowing that soon
very soon,
one would betray,
another perhaps worse in its way,
would deny,
the others flee abandoning him to his fate,
for fear can drain the bravest of men of their courage,
this he knew,
for the hearts of men were an open book to him,
yet he loved.
For
he could not protect himself with anger,
nor hatred,
no walls could he build up around his heart of infinite depth,
apathy not available to numb,
no,
he could only love even if it meant his death.
For to hate,
seeking revenge,
rage,
is defeat in the face of evil,
feeding only the fire that fuels the cycle.
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The meal
So simple
bread and wine
the common food of common people,
so everyday,
yet a staple needed for life.
He took the bread,
broke it,
the wine also in its simple cup,
saying,
this is my body,
broken
for you for the remission of sin
and blood,
eat in remembrance of what I am about to do.
Perhaps a little bewildered
they ate and drank.
After Judas left into the outer darkness to do his work,
Jesus arose,
their Rabbi whom they loved and respected,
he knelt before each one
washing their feet and drying them,
an act of gracious humility
by their teacher,
serving them
hoping that they would understand.
Knowing what lay ahead he loved them to the end,
having only compassion for what was to come,
for he understood the depth of human weakness,
forgiving before it all happened,
for love cannot hate nor seek revenge,
such is it strength,
seen by many as weakness,
for over and over again we seek to right things
by the irrational and destructive,
for the cycle can only be broken by love,
perhaps a lesson we will never learn yet the yeast there,
slowly bringing forth
the kingdom of God.
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The Garden
Alone in the garden leaning upon a rock,
his followers asleep
not understanding what was coming,
the shivering in fear
the sweating of blood caused by the depth of anxiety,
the prayer of surrender
“not my will but yours be done”;
the kiss of betrayal done in mockery,
“hail Rabbi”;
the fleeing of the apostles,
alone to be mocked by his captors,
slapping,
spitting and mocking,
the illegal trial held in the dead of night,
the lies,
then the affirmation
“it is you who say I am”,
the denial of Peter before the cock crowed three times,
then a night in prison,
with only the dankness of the cold cell for comfort,
alone,
alone,
alone,
until the Friday dawns,
all night before his eyes what awaits him in the morning.
