After Mark 14:12-31
It is the usual meal,
the annual observance
of deliverance from
the angel of death
in the land of pharaoh,
the last and ultimate
plague foretold,
the death of the firstborn.
It is a celebration, yet
quiet and somber,
an annual thanksgiving
for salvation, redemption.
And yet. And yet.
This is different.
No plans are made.
It’s all last minute,
almost haphazard,
but directed, the man
with the water jug
will lead them
to the house,
to the upper room.
Imagine the surprise
of the two disciples
told to do this.
They prepare the meal.
He talks of many things.
Betrayal by one present.
Betrayal by one who dips
bread.
He talks of the bread,
with a threefold command:
take it, eat it, understand it
as my body.
He talks of the wine,
with a threefold command:
take it, drink it, understand it
as my blood pour out.
They sing. They go
to the olive groves
to rest, to pray.
The night begins.
It is the lull before.
Photograph by James Coleman via Unsplash. Used with permission.
