Holy Week 2019 proceeds…
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Night ushers in, clothed in silvery gleam,
As Luna shimmers bright, entering Passover full steam,
Joy around table, supping cups;
Mood changes – he teaches his body, Covenant New,
And that one would betray him, he says out of the blue,
Nervous, but Judas continuously sups.
We go for a stroll through silvery gardens,
He says I will deny him! Heart slightly hardens.
He teaches urgently for hours.
Judas absent; Jesus doesn’t waste a breath,
Why does he keep speaking about his death?!
What does he mean?! The mood sours.
We enter the Garden of Gethsemane,
Dark shadows crawl from each olive tree;
He implores us to stay awake.
As the night lingers he slouches – weighed down
Like his spirit was sinking, or already drown –
Sleep conquers; wine our consciousness takes.
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Aroused from nap as he implores with urgency,
Unaware Judas had a fistful of currency,
A stones throw away, he collapses to pray,
“Abba, he’s full of sorrow, what’s wrong with our Yeshua?”
Faltering on warning, “Stay awake, it will behoove ya’.”
Eyelids crash – I’m sleep’s prey.
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He awakens us again, bloodstained at peace, says time is nigh,
As we see the approach of torches – do we fly?!
He stands steadfast and resolute;
Crowd with clubs and swords. Is that Judas leading?!
Hearts racing – revolution beginning? Mind’s pleading!
Judas kisses his cheek; to the enemies a salute!
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Hell and mayhem break loose,
They grab my Rabbi! I’m cooking their goose!
Fighting for life, I unsheathe my sword,
Swing it like a battle ax to split his crown,
He dodges, but I take his ear, spilling blood on gown;
Rebukes me and heals the uncircumcised swine! I’m floored!
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Looking around, most of my friends already fled,
From our Rabbi who our spirits he faithfully fed,
Despondent and confused, I chose to flee;
Running into darkness away from the torches flames,
Breathless, fear settles as the anger tames,
I yell, “Abba, how can this be?!”
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I follow the mob at a distance,
Is this the end? Deflated hope of resistance?
I continue lurking in the shadows,
One friend with me; they take Jesus inside.
My friend goes in as Jesus they begin to deride.
I remain out and try to blend with the flows.
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The crowd continues to question, hit and mock,
Courage sinks like quicksand – I’m supposed to be the rock –
They beat him and accuse him with lies!
My face and accent give me away,
They say I’m with him, I deny my Lord – I sway!
The rooster sings thrice – oh, Jesus’ eyes! – sunrise …
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© Joshua Curtis, 2019
