A series of meditations interspersed with readings, hymns and prayers.
All 4 meditations are on the same recording.
Meditation 1: The
Procession
Each year there are a few days’ holidays
around Passover,
when as many people as possible go to Jerusalem
for the biggest festival of the Jewish year.
This year,
you're going, too.
Perhaps you go every year,
or
perhaps you can only go once every few years,
if you don't have
much money.
Whatever,
this year, you are going to
Jerusalem.
Perhaps you are travelling with a large party,
perhaps there are only two of you.
But today is the day
you arrive at Jerusalem.
It's hot.
You're walking along,
a bit hot and rather thirsty,
and somewhat tired of
walking.
It will be good to get into Jerusalem,
and to
your room at the inn.
Suddenly, though,
there is a
noise in the crowd.
What is happening?
Everyone has
stopped moving.
But there are cheers and shouts going on.
What
are people shouting?
Listen, a minute:
"Hosanna to
the Son of David!
Blessed is he who comes in the name of the
Lord.
Hosanna in the highest!"
What on earth are
they on about?
What's going on?
People are pulling
branches off the trees.
They're throwing down their cloaks.
Who is this person coming along, anyway?
It's
someone riding a donkey.
How extraordinary.
Why a donkey,
please?
How very undignified.
And yet everyone else is
cheering him.
Oh well, why not.
"Hosanna", you
shout,
joining your voice to everyone else's.
"Hosanna"
.
And carried away by the emotion of the moment,
you
throw your cloak into the road for the donkey to walk on.
Later,
when the moment has passed,
you wonder what on earth it was all
about.
Your cloak was torn by the donkey's feet.
It's
dusty and spoilt from lying in the road.
Your new cloak,
that
you had bought specially for the festival.
It's ruined.
And
you were shouting and cheering like a mad thing.
How very odd.
Meditation
2:
Peter
Simon
Peter.
You're at the Palace,
in the
servant's courtyard.
Jesus is in there somewhere.
You'ld
like to rush in and rescue him,
but you don't know whereabouts
they are keeping him.
Meanwhile you're cold,
tired,
scared
and feeling sick.
You were up all
night, praying with Jesus in the garden.
Well, you might have
nodded off a time or two,
but basically you haven't had any
sleep.
And he was upset, you heard him;
crying, he
was.
Crying out to God to spare him,
not to make him have
to go through with this.
But they have taken him anyway.
You
followed, at a distance.
You would love to rescue him,
but....
There's a fire in the courtyard,
and you creep up
to it,
staying in the shadows
and listening to the maids
flirting with the soldiers,
and being flirted with in their
turn.
And they are talking about the arrest,
and the
newest prisoner.
You prick up your ears.
A teacher, they
say.
A religious nut, more like.
The servants are
sneering at your master.
You'ld love to tell them about him,
about the fun you've had,
the travels,
the wonders.
But your voice won't work.
Suddenly one of the maids
turns to you:
"Hey, big boy!
You were with him,
weren't you? Tell us about him!"
But your voice doesn't do
what you want it to.
"No way, no, not me, you've got the
wrong chap!"
you hear yourself babbling.
"No,
I'm sure I saw you with him," says one of the other maids.
Again, you find you saying it wasn't you.
You begin to
sweat.
Why are you telling all these lies?
Can't they
just shut up and leave you alone?
What's going to happen,
anyway.
"Oh, come on," says another voice.
"You're from Galilee, same as him.
Your accent
proves it.
You must have known him, at the very least."
And your temper explodes, and you round on the man,
cursing and swearing.
You fling out of the courtyard.
And the cock crows.
Just as He had said.
"Before
the cock crows,
you will deny me three times."
Just
what he had said.
Dear God,
what have I done?
Meditation
3: In
the Crowd
Now it is two or three days later,
early
in the morning.
You look out of your bedroom window,
and
see that a massive crowd has gathered outside the governor's palace.
You step over, to see what all the fuss is about.
"What's
happening?", you ask.
"Pilate's going to
release a prisoner",
explains the knowledgeable one.
"Like every year.
This year it's going to be a chap
called Barabbas,
you know, the terrorist."
"No
it isn't," interrupts another person.
"There was a
new prisoner bought in last night.
That teacher, the Galilean
one.
You know.
They arrested him,
but I gather
Pilate wants to release him."
"No way,"
says a third voice.
"The chief priests won't wear that.
They want him dead."
And then a hush.
Pilate
appears on the balcony. A few quiet "boos",
but the
crowd is fairly patient.
"Who shall I
release to you?" he asks.
"Barabbas!"
yell the crowd.
"We want Barabbas.
At first it is
only a few voices,
but gradually more and more people start to
shout for Barabbas.
"We want Barabbas, we want Barabbas!"
"Well," goes Pilate,
"Are you sure you
don't want Jesus who is called the Christ?"
One or two
people start to shout "Yes",
but
you are aware that there are some heavies in the crowd and they soon
shut up, and start the chant again:
"We want Barabbas, we
want Barabbas!"
"Then what shall I
do with this Jesus?" asks Pilate.
And the voices
start, slowly at first,
but more and more people join in:
"Crucify him, Crucify him!"
And you find
yourself shouting, too.
"Crucify him, crucify him!"
But why?
Normally you hate the thought of
crucifixion.
The Romans consider it too barbarous for their own
citizens.
Only people who aren't Roman citizens,
local
people,
slaves.
Only they get crucified.
So
why are you shouting for this man to be crucified?
Meditation
4: On
the Cross
So they
did crucify him.
There were rumours going round all night.
You didn't get any sleep; you kept hearing things
He was
with Pilate.
With Herod.
They were going to let him go.
They weren't.
And now he is up there, being put to
death.
Maybe he was no better than those thieves beside him.
Who knows?
You certainly don't.
Yes, he's suffering.
God, that must hurt.
Hope it never happens to
me.
Shouldn't happen to a dog, crucifixion.
All
the same, what does this mean?
Didn't he say he was going to
destroy the Temple, rebuild it in three days?
Now he's dying;
now he's up there, can't do anything about it...
Maybe he was
all a big fake, not the great Teacher.
Such a pity. He could
have been the Messiah, but......
that death?
Would the
Messiah really die?
Oh yes, he's dying.
Forsaken!
Forsaken
by God.
Left alone, alone on the Cross to die.
And yet, and
yet.
He feels alone, abandoned, forsaken.
And yet, and
yet.
He suffers, suffers dreadfully.
And yet, and yet.
That
cry, that cry when he died:
“It is finished! I've done it!”
A
cry of triumph, of triumph over death.
Forsaken,
yet triumphant.
“Surely this man was a Son of God”.
