MONDAY
Drama
MEDITATIONS FOR THE SIX DAYS OF HOLY WEEK
MONDAY
Time:
Morning
Place: Bethany
Recommended readings:
Matthew 21:1-11
Mark 11:1-11
Luke 19:28-44
John 12:12-36
Yesterday as we were approaching Bethphage and Bethany just outside the city of Jerusalem, the Master sent Thomas and Matthew ahead to get an ass. How strange, I thought. We had been on the road for over thirty days, and he had walked along with us. Today we were completing our trip and entering the city of Jerusalem. Would he ride in on an ass? What a strange thing to do.
It was strange -- the whole affair -- for, you see, our entry wasn't like a group of Passover Week pilgrims arriving in the city, eager to reach the bazaar, to meet friends and relatives whom they hadn't seen since last year, scurrying around to find a place to stay during the crowded week. Frankly, as it turned out, our entrance into the city was more like the return of an exiled monarch, the triumphant entry of a king. Yet not really like a king; for that little, brown ass wasn't like a white stallion, and Jesus' simple, seamless robe had no trace of royal purple in it. And my old, faded cloak on top of those we placed on the ass to make a more comfortable seat was certainly far from a kingly saddle with silver trim.
It was quaint -- and different. Some might have thought it shabby; and, in its elements, I suppose it was -- if one had eyes for just the elements. The Master, however, even on that ass, was himself. There was no attempt at pretending grandeur. He sat very straight with his head slightly bowed -- a mingling of sorrow and love on his face.
After we got him seated on the ass and began to move toward the city, the people began to put their cloaks in the road to make a carpet. Then they began to break branches off the trees. They waved them in the air as Jesus passed, and they shouted, "Hosanna. Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord." "God save the Son of David!" "Hurrah for the coming kingdom of our father David." "There is peace in Heaven and glory on high!"
Frankly, I thought of silencing the crowd. After all, it was only a couple of weeks ago at Caesarea-Philippi that, after I had answered his question concerning his identity with "Thou art the Christ, the son of the Living God," he had told us very emphatically that we should not tell anyone that he was the Christ. I could have silenced that crowd, you know. I could have simply stopped the procession and shouted at them to keep their tongues silent. I was considering doing it (though I couldn't understand why the Master himself didn't) when some Pharisees in the crowd approached him and shouted, "Master, restrain your disciples!" Jesus simply looked at them, and then he said, "I tell you that if they kept quiet, the stones in the road would burst into cheers." The Pharisees drew back. And so did I. So the time had come to let it be known. Our Master is the Christ.
The crowd did grow silent at one point though. We turned a bend in the road. You know the place -- there where you come out of the mountains and below you Jerusalem becomes visible. All spread out like a big, white shell. After the long trip, it is always such a good sight because you know for sure that you have almost made it. Well, yesterday, when we turned that bend and there lay Jerusalem, the city of our fathers, the city of the Temple, a strange silence came over the crowd. And, then, I realized what was happening. Jesus had stopped the ass. He sat very quietly, looking at the city below. And then he was weeping.
There was nothing anyone could do. We just stood and looked, too. And because I know the Master and I could feel how he felt, at least to some extent, I found tears coming to my eyes, too. I'm not sure how long we stood there transfixed before he spoke. But then his voice pierced the silence as he said, "Ah, if you only knew, even at this eleventh hour, on what your peace depends -- but you cannot see it ƒ You did not know when God Himself was visiting you."
Time:
Morning
Place: Bethany
Recommended readings:
Matthew 21:1-11
Mark 11:1-11
Luke 19:28-44
John 12:12-36
Yesterday as we were approaching Bethphage and Bethany just outside the city of Jerusalem, the Master sent Thomas and Matthew ahead to get an ass. How strange, I thought. We had been on the road for over thirty days, and he had walked along with us. Today we were completing our trip and entering the city of Jerusalem. Would he ride in on an ass? What a strange thing to do.
It was strange -- the whole affair -- for, you see, our entry wasn't like a group of Passover Week pilgrims arriving in the city, eager to reach the bazaar, to meet friends and relatives whom they hadn't seen since last year, scurrying around to find a place to stay during the crowded week. Frankly, as it turned out, our entrance into the city was more like the return of an exiled monarch, the triumphant entry of a king. Yet not really like a king; for that little, brown ass wasn't like a white stallion, and Jesus' simple, seamless robe had no trace of royal purple in it. And my old, faded cloak on top of those we placed on the ass to make a more comfortable seat was certainly far from a kingly saddle with silver trim.
It was quaint -- and different. Some might have thought it shabby; and, in its elements, I suppose it was -- if one had eyes for just the elements. The Master, however, even on that ass, was himself. There was no attempt at pretending grandeur. He sat very straight with his head slightly bowed -- a mingling of sorrow and love on his face.
After we got him seated on the ass and began to move toward the city, the people began to put their cloaks in the road to make a carpet. Then they began to break branches off the trees. They waved them in the air as Jesus passed, and they shouted, "Hosanna. Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord." "God save the Son of David!" "Hurrah for the coming kingdom of our father David." "There is peace in Heaven and glory on high!"
Frankly, I thought of silencing the crowd. After all, it was only a couple of weeks ago at Caesarea-Philippi that, after I had answered his question concerning his identity with "Thou art the Christ, the son of the Living God," he had told us very emphatically that we should not tell anyone that he was the Christ. I could have silenced that crowd, you know. I could have simply stopped the procession and shouted at them to keep their tongues silent. I was considering doing it (though I couldn't understand why the Master himself didn't) when some Pharisees in the crowd approached him and shouted, "Master, restrain your disciples!" Jesus simply looked at them, and then he said, "I tell you that if they kept quiet, the stones in the road would burst into cheers." The Pharisees drew back. And so did I. So the time had come to let it be known. Our Master is the Christ.
The crowd did grow silent at one point though. We turned a bend in the road. You know the place -- there where you come out of the mountains and below you Jerusalem becomes visible. All spread out like a big, white shell. After the long trip, it is always such a good sight because you know for sure that you have almost made it. Well, yesterday, when we turned that bend and there lay Jerusalem, the city of our fathers, the city of the Temple, a strange silence came over the crowd. And, then, I realized what was happening. Jesus had stopped the ass. He sat very quietly, looking at the city below. And then he was weeping.
There was nothing anyone could do. We just stood and looked, too. And because I know the Master and I could feel how he felt, at least to some extent, I found tears coming to my eyes, too. I'm not sure how long we stood there transfixed before he spoke. But then his voice pierced the silence as he said, "Ah, if you only knew, even at this eleventh hour, on what your peace depends -- but you cannot see it ƒ You did not know when God Himself was visiting you."
