Post #7.3, Tuesday, April 7, 2020

Historical setting: A dark age in Gaul

The cold night wind comes down through this dark. I can hear the sounds of night terrors – the scream of a weasel loosing the life battle with a lion. This night is filled with beasts. I hear the ravages, licking and tugging at the meats. The winning beast is feasting. Now he is filled and nearing me on quiet paws…to touch me with a breath through cold nose. He circles near me, and he drops for rest beside me here, nearly touching me, as though human person were a harmless yet meatless find. His well-fed spine presses gently against my own ribs – soft and warm he is. And safe I am now from the cold clam of night.

         Thank you, for weasel’s loss, and this well-fed warmth. Is it a plan or a happenstance, Dear God?

         The lion runs away at a sound of oars and coxswain beat on the river. There must be moonlight enough for a warship sliding through the darkness on the river tonight.

         But we haven’t filled the ewers yet and Jesus and the others are already nearby in Jerusalem for Passover. I should go home now and help get ready for our guests. I can’t make myself get up but I have to go now. My head hurts. I should go now.

         The drums of the imperial parade won’t leave my head. For Jesus it was a strange parade. Hail the king. But Jesus had no pomp of percussion, only songs. Why this? The golden Imperial Roman, Pilate, infuses the Jewish celebration with all Pagan pomp through the wide gate on the regal stallion, descending the golden stairway of city into the Jewish holiday midst. Rome expects the largest crowd ever in Jerusalem. But then, here is Jesus sucking up the Imperial pomp flaunting his own example of a whole different pax. The crowds come for Jesus. They spread their cloaks for the feet of the borrowed donkey just outside the common gate. It’s a Jesus lesson to show his kingdom is not of riches and winning wars and prizes. His is the promise of the kingdom to come –whatever that promise means anymore.

         Why do the powerful fear Jesus? Yet earthly fears are heaped to edifice with tangible treasure – bricks of gold and weapons for wars for winning – and winnings measured only by other’s losses. Why would the powerful fear Jesus? Yet they seem so afraid.

         Jesus will be at our door soon, and I haven’t even filled the ewers.

(Come again tomorrow)

Published by J.K. Marlin

Retired church playwright learning new art forms-- fiction writing, in historical context and now blogging these stories. The Lazarus Pages have a recurring character -- best friend of Jesus -- repeatedly waking to life in various periods of church history and spirituality.

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