A monologue - Transformed by what I see... (feel, experience, live, hear...)

Mark 11: 1 – 11; Mark 14: 3 – 9

I was there the day he was paraded into the city. 

I was there with my leafy branches and my expectations.  

I shouted right along with everyone else – save me! Save me! Save us all!

 

I heard someone say that he is the Son of David. David was such a great and powerful king. A lot of people hope that the Son of David might be able to change our world right now.

 

I don’t think he is who many say that he is, though. 

 

I was there waving my palm branches and shouting Hosanna, save us, because life is hard these days. Whoever he is, my great hope is that he will change the world we are living in.

 

I live with my family in Bethany, not far from Jerusalem across the Kidron Valley.  Near my home, there is a kind of shelter or camp for the poorest of the poor – there they can find a place to rest and eat, to stay while they get back on their feet – at least that is their hope. 

 

I see so many suffering people there. We take food to them when we can. We bring herbs and tinctures and tend to their health because my family is has a tradition of healing. 

 

Sometimes we hire someone living there in the camp to work for us, harvesting or pressing olives. Tending the goats.

 

But lately, my father hasn’t been able to pay all of the taxes demanded by the Romans. This means that right now, we can’t really hire people from the camp. 

 

When I go with my father into the city, I see the Roman soldiers and their fancy war horses. They are dazzling – the soldiers and the horses.

 

Sometimes I pray at the northern gate of the Temple with other women while my father and brothers enter the courtyard to pray and worship inside. While I wait, I see the fine robes worn by some of the Temple leaders as they pass by. Then I see the widows in rags near the gate. That feels wrong. Why are we in a time and place where so many have so little?

 

My father has raised all of us, all of my siblings, to know our holy book well. I know Torah - the law - and I know about how the rules there are supposed to create safe and loving and thriving place for everyone.  I know that the rules help us to love God and to love one another.

 

I also know from the Nevi’im that the prophets have been angry for centuries, calling out problems with the way we live as the people of God. 

 

I see beggars in the streets. I see the sick and the lame sleeping outside, hungry and alone. That seems wrong. Maybe that’s what the prophets saw too. It makes me angry. It also makes me sad. If one person is homeless or unfed, I believe that I should feel that in my heart.

 

I was there outside the Temple this week when Jesus was teaching. Actually…I overheard some arguing.  A few scribes were pushing him about the Law. Jesus didn’t seem upset by their questions – no, he definitely wasn’t upset…but they were.

 

Jesus seemed more like confused. When he’d visited Bethany months earlier, I was there and I heard him talk about the importance of people’s wholeness, their being cared for, their being loved. I felt his words in a place deep in my heart. It was as if he was speaking right into my heart, in fact. I was mesmerized.

 

But even as the scribes listened to Jesus this week in the City, the scribes kept coming back to the Law. As if Jesus wasn’t talking about it himself. They didn’t get that he, too, was talking about the Law. 

 

Now I am confused right along with Jesus – isn’t that what the law is for? So that people are whole and cared for and loved?  

 

And then there are his disciples – the ones trying so hard to work alongside of him, learning from him, teaching others who come near. 

 

This week they have seemed perplexed, even a little angry or sad. I heard them talking about how confusing Jesus is to them. They were whispering about wars and famines and about trials.  There was a lot of head-shaking and foot stamping.

 

I was there in Simon’s house when Jesus returned to Bethany to share a meal. The men around him spoke very seriously as they ate. Something about Rome and power. I heard the word Zealot. I heard the word revolution. I heard the word dangerous.

 

I was there, watching Jesus. 

I was there, listening to Jesus.

I was there, understanding something about him that I couldn’t quite name. Feeling something in my heart again.

 

I can’t explain what happened next. Something inside of me felt a tug. It was as if God whispered the idea in my ear…and I listened.

I had the nard with me because we’d been out taking care of some very sick people earlier in the day. When I approached him, he smiled and greeted me by name.

 

The next thing I knew, I was pouring the fragrant combination of nard and olive oil over him, watching it flow down his hair, into his face. He raised his hands and soon they were covered too…

 

The sweet and spicy fragrance spread out around us and filled the room.

There were gasps. And silence. And then whispers. Finally shouts.

 

Stupid girl. 

Such a waste.

People are starving and that could have been sold to feed them.

 

I felt like I couldn’t breathe. 

I was there when Jesus silenced them all.

I had done a good thing, the right thing. 

I had anointed him before his burial. 

That’s what he said.

 

But he was right there in front of me, healthy and strong. Those words from him were scary. I rushed out of the house and into the dark of the night.

 

I was there days later as they paraded him, bound and bleeding, through the streets.

 

I was there when one of his followers lied about being with him.

 

I was there when the people asked for the release of Barabbus.

I was there as the people yelled Crucify Him. 

 

I was there as they nailed him to the cross with a criminal on each side of him.

 

I was there when the sky went dark.

 

I was there and suddenly I understood his words. I remembered the oil running down his face and covering his hands. I remembered again the way the fragrance filled the room.

 

I felt like I was there in Simon’s house with him once again.

Anointing him. 

Understanding it all.