Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Act of the Apostle (Lenten Meditations)


In the darkness, sleeping in a temple of vines and leaves,
They lie, innocent, unaware of impending doom.
I feel it breathing down my neck.
it’s laughter low and insistent.
The fetid breath sour, hot, caressing my flesh...
I am not afraid.
My life was never my own.
My very breath & blood were for others.
Now my job is nearly done.
My fate sealed by the One.
I glance at them, sleeping, chests rising, falling, gently,
gently they lie.
In a foolish human moment, I wish to be one with them.
One with my own life, one with my own soul.
But no, that is not my destiny.
My fate was plotted long before my birth.
Before I was even formed in the womb.
Written from the beginning of time,
I cannot change the inevitable.
I cannot slow the deed.
I must embrace Death, so that all others may have Life.
I must answer to a will other than my own.

Startled, I awaken.
What sound pulled me from slumber?
Cautiously I peer into the blackness.
Surely it is not yet time...
No. They are sleeping. All but Him.
He is quiet.
He prays on ...asking...
Forgiveness? For a life conceived without sin?
Wisdom? He who embodies the mind of God?
Does he know, I wonder,
that I am the one?
The one they will call betrayer...
I am as powerless as he to change destiny.
I did not want this life, this duty.
I was called to give up my Self.
I too was cast and must play the act
until the bitter end.
For 30 pieces of silver I sold my soul.
For 30 pieces of silver I accepted finally,
my Role.

It is morning.
The sun breaks the horizon line.
Hot and sultry
a gleaming disk
lighting the final act of the passion play.
I rise to face them.
They stand away.
Frightened. Unsure. Angry. Menacing. Mourning.
With a slight smile He steps forward.
The devils of a thousand lives gleam within his eyes.
The gentle clink of coins as he walks
plays a vengeful, grievous tune.
His hands grasp my shoulders as he pulls me to him.
Slowly his lips press mine.
His is the breath of hell, fetid ,hot.
The rank air of a dark sealed tomb.
I look at him eyes serpent cold and glittering.
“Peace my teacher” hisses from his lips...
Nausea, I am fighting fear, I am human,
I am afraid Father!
I am just a man. Please...
But no.
It is time.
Your will, not mine be done.
I must go on.
I must conclude.
I am MAN.
I am ready.
“Peace, my brother” I whisper
knowing it will never be his.
I turn and walk forward
from the arms of man.
Into the heart of God.

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