Thursday, April 09, 2009

Reflections on Comfort

What was his mother thinking?
Watching her son dying, slowly, by degrees.
“I wish it had never come to this”? “I wish I could wake from this nightmare”?“I wish I’d never had him”?
And what about the favourite follower?
What’s the point of being a disciple when there’s no master?
So much for being in the inner circle,
when the circle is being bent and broken before you.
So much for being special when all your hopes and dreams are being drained of life in front of your very eyes.
And what were the onlookers thinking?
The ones whose curiosity had slowed them down to a halt,
to check out this first century car-crash? Event-seekers, intrigued by what the small crowd were looking at over there on Skull Hill, what was going through their minds?
Interesting piece of action by the looks of it,
Always good to get the news firsthand.
Nothing like fresh gossip to add a bit of kudos.

Which of us knows what any of the rest of us is really thinking?
We can barely read our own minds, let alone those of others.
None of us can predict the significance of any of our moments.
None of us knows the role we are playing in the invisible grand narrative.
Take the soldiers, dicing for a dying man’s clothes, salivating at the market resale value.
Ringside seats for the cosmic drama…
but too busy living to notice.
We only know for sure what Jesus was thinking of.
He was thinking of others.
As usual and in that, we can take comfort.

Heads up to for some of the wording and the idea

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