Before posting my Monday poem (a day late, again!), take the time to listen to and watch this beautiful video! It is inspiring and awesome!
The Monday After Hosanna!
Urgency was etched into his face,
but something else, something about his manner,
something much more was present, too.
A quicker step, perhaps, his head bowed,
his tone just as loving, but clipped as well.
He had so much to say, so much still to make clear.
He wished to have the time to sit with his friends,
to teach, to help them understand all that
was yet to come. So soon the reckoning.
But distractions abounded. Nothing in
this Holy City was as he remembered.
He wept openly as he made his way to the Temple.
Solomon’s glorious edifice, guided by the Father’s hand
had become a mockery of worship, devotion,
sacrifice, and learning. A disgrace.
Anger, and righteous indignation
swelled within his heart. And there was so little time!
Stepping into the outer courts, among the raucous
chatter, he can hear the clink of coins, the
sound of money changing hands. The poor and
lowly, come to worship, slowly counted out their
paltry sums, seeking to exchange for Temple coin
so that they could purchase their live sacrifices
to offer through the priests, to their Father
as penance before the Passover, just three days away.
He heard the money changers demanding usurious
prices, watched them laughing and sitting back in
their chairs at their money-stacked tables, before
which lines of the poor had formed in order to
perform the rites for which they had traveled many days
over rough and dangerous terrain. Leaving behind
the followers, and the curious, he let loose his ire.
Fueled by the heat of anger he ran to the tables
of the money-changers and purveyors of the
sacrificial doves, and began to drive them away and
out of the court. He overturned the tables,
scattering the coins, and lifted and threw over the
seats of the men who sat there in sanctimony,
and he shouted:
“It is written, ‘My house shall be called a
house of prayer;’ but you are making it
a den of robbers.”
In sorrow and disgust, he walked away,
his disciples following after, in wonder at
this show of uncharacteristic fury. Amid the crowd,
Jesus slipped away to Bethany, to rest,
to pray, to prepare for what was to come.
To all my dear and Gentle Readers, I ask first that you remember in your thoughts and prayers the people of North Korea, and as always, I wish you enough. . .