Scene from the Gospels

May 30

“If you’re gonna be a Christian, you better look good on wood.”
--Daniel Berrigan


They are walking toward Jerusalem, a dusty road through open country. The twelve seem dazed; they’re tired and overloaded. The people behind are apprehensive. Where are we going?, they are wondering They keep a safe distance.

Jesus looks from his left to his right, at Peter, at Andrew. He shakes his head, a rueful smile breaking across his lips. Again he stops, pulls them aside.

“Do you understand what we’re doing?” he asks them patiently. They stare at him blankly. “We are going to Jerusalem,” he says again. “There, the Son of Man will be arrested. He will be accused. He will be beaten and spit on and scorned. He will be hung on a tree and left to die.” He pauses. “And he will rise again in glory.”

The Sons of Thunder perk up at that last part. Glory? “When you get to heaven, can we sit next to you?” one of them blurts.

He sighs. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

Like children, they persist. “C’mon. We asked you first. Why not?”

He turns to look at them, eyes piercing, face now grave. “Can you drink the cup that I must drink?”

They glance at each other before answering. “Y-yes. We can drink it.”

His eyes and voice grow tender. “Indeed you will drink it, brothers,” he says quietly. “Indeed you will. But a place in the kingdom is not mine to give.”

The others approach. “A place in the kingdom? What’s all this?” Peter’s voice is indignant. There’s jostling.

He grabs Peter by the shoulders, firmly, but not roughly. The jostling stops. “Know this, brothers,” he says, back to smiling. “When men gain power, they seek out the high place for themselves, the seat of authority. It cannot be so with you.” Again, his voice grows tender, and he looks from one to the next. “With you, it must be like this: The one who is first is the one who serves all the rest.”

“If you would be first,” he repeats, “you must be servant to all the rest.”

They look at him. Some of their faces remain hopelessly blank. In others, though, in Peter’s and Andrew’s, a dim light of recognition finally dawns.