Holy Week Reflections: Thursday

(from www.lifeandwork.org)

The Rev Roddy Hamilton remembers the warning of Pilate's wife.

Now it was the governor’s custom at the festival to release a prisoner chosen by the crowd. At that time they had a well-known prisoner whose name was Jesus Barabbas. So when the crowd had gathered, Pilate asked them, “Which one do you want me to release to you: Jesus Barabbas, or Jesus who is called the Messiah?” For he knew it was out of self-interest that they had handed Jesus over to him.

While Pilate was sitting on the judge’s seat, his wife sent him this message: “Don’t have anything to do with that innocent man, for I have suffered a great deal today in a dream because of him.”

But the chief priests and the elders persuaded the crowd to ask for Barabbas and to have Jesus executed.

“Which of the two do you want me to release to you?” asked the governor.

“Barabbas,” they answered.

Matthew 27:15-21 (NIV)

Bread scattering in a holy explosion,
Crumbs bouncing off the table cloth,
Pitching and lobbing and spinning
In the mayhem of heaven.

Body, broken, wounded and lost
In some deadly night-time carnival.

And wine,
Lolloping into cups with such force,
It slides up the other side
And flings a scattered bloodstain across the cloth.

Blood, poured, spilled and crushed.
An ungodly mess.

It was like an execution.
The table was carnage,
Strewn with signs that floundered over each other
In a deathly nightmare,
Where symbol became story,
And story became augury,
And augury became real.

Pilate’s wife struggled with sleep.
These images were a peculiar nightmare
Of this man she had only ever heard about,
But he felt tangible enough.

She tried to dismiss the dream but she couldn’t,
And passed it on to her husband
But Pilate chose, instead, to wash his hands.
Her contempt for him quickened.
Such weakness was the greater nightmare.

Meanwhile,
In an upper room,
Somewhere in the city,
A holy man took bread,
Broke it and said,
“This is my body…”

God,
Holy God,
May we taste and see
The kingdom’s dream,
Yet the cost too.

May we be part of this story
Of bread and wine
And promise and passion.

May we see beyond the table,
Into the world,
And know such gifts,
Of body and blood,
Are not ours,
But the world’s,
And may we share them there
Where nightmares are real.

God,
Holy God,
We pray that the longing of this table,
Of peace and justice and sacrifice,
Can still be dreamt
Beyond tonight.

Holy Week reflections:
Palm Sunday: You Have to Laugh
Monday: Widow's Mite
Tuesday: Mary and Martha
Wednesday: Jesus anointed