Mocking the innocent

After Luke 22:66 – Luke 23:17 

The mocking begins, first the

guards and soldiers insulting,

slapping, hitting, ridiculing,

then the scribes and priests,

those venerated elites who

perform a mockery of a trial,

then the overlord, the governor

with the iron fist, the one who

sees clearly that there is no crime,

there is no criminal, yet finds

a loophole to avoid displeasing

the crowd and its leaders, even

iron-fisted rulers fear the mob, 

and sends him to the king. Who

wants a sign, wants entertainment,

wants amusement, but receives

only silence, so he adds his mocking,

dressing him like the king he’s not,

and returns him for judgment,

and still no fault or crime is found,

but the mob wants its sacrifice, 

its Passover lamb, its entertainment.

Its blood lust sated, and they choose

The thief over the innocent, they

embrace the sinful and condemn

the innocent, and the governor,

to sate the mob, gives him over

to death, washing his hands

of the whole affair but forever

associating himself with it.

 

Photograph by Akshar Dave via Unsplash. Used with permission.

In midst of trial

After Isaiah 7

In midst of trial,

disaster imminent,

surrounded by scorpions,

by death, seeking refuge

in strength, in allies,

in fortifications,

discovering futility,

chased by those scorpions

to find sanctuary

with vipers, and then

a light

a glimmer

a slight shimmering

in the darkness

s promise

a hope a sign

all was lost but

all was not lost

defeat and victory

wrapped together

in the same package.

Who could dream such a thing:

victory riding among us

in the midst of defeat,

the beginning in the end

the overwhelming darkness

overcome by the light

edging down the mountain

before bursting into radiance.

Photograph by Rajesh Misra via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.

Innocent, except

After Acts 26

He makes a defense in the form

of confession, and what compels

is not so much what he says

(which does appear rather insane)

but how he says it, the passion,

the conviction, the disregard

for what we hear, as if what

matters is the speaking, the act

of words, the word. And then he

asks me, tells me, I believe

the prophets, and I rise and

leave, asking myself how this man

sees my heart better than I do. And

we know, Festus and I, this Roman

and this king, that he is innocent,

he could be, should be, freed,

except for his appeal. I stand

on the balcony, see the crowds

below and the ravens above,

perched and waiting.

Painting: Apostle Paul on Trial by Nikolai Bodarevsky (1875). Licensed under Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons.