Triduum - afterhthought 2

RESOLUTION

Wednesday! Not the end of a pilgrimage from divine inception to final act in a rebirth play. Not the time forgotten in the clump of four 'Holy Days' that grasp at our passion in reflection of what we too could be if we dared. Yet, place yourself in the moment -- the day before. At what point was the plan set -- the pin pulled out of the wheel brake? Had it been earlier before the procession through the streets? Had it reached sufficiency when a crown was offered? Was the promptings for public acknowledgement from the most educated disciples reaching some discordance? Regardless -- the time had come!
You allow yourself some foreshadowed knowledge of what will pass, but still must embrace humanity's final clutch at breath and phenomenal joy and pain -- else what is the point? On this day you must organize the events that will come -- not to orchestrate each touch and word and fearful self-appraisal, but to guide and nurture those who would remain -- to gift, by example, the method of teaching and enlightenment that would kindle the waiting souls of yearning. What will be needed -- what must be done?

We must observe the local customs tomorrow and gather for a Seder meal -- all called to meet -- a forum for the quickening. As they must hear -- as they must pay close attention, the food and gentle laughter will set their minds at rest -- allow a return to simple innocence. I will wash the dust from my feet and heart -- no I will have that they share in this! They too, each by each, must cleans and be cleansed and understand that man is exalted in simplicity -- if shared with friend or stranger. With one note sounded I will add another with the most ancient rite of sharing bread -- and they will know that I share my passion and spirit as well. A silent gong will echo as the cadence builds -- allowing them to place their own feet upon the path of certainty. We will all drink from the same cup that they know that my life and their life is of the same source -- that the blood that flows through these most human veins also waters the flowers of dawn and drips from the pressed grapes of compassion. Will it be enough? Can they then go forth and be simple and cleansed of guilt and artifice? Can they of substance of their own hand and heart? Can they refine essence of their being and sip from another's cup, and in turn divide their last drops of life with a stranger -- know that tears of joy and fountain of Light are the same?

Then off to some place to rest and pray and reflect. They will guard my solitude. Somewhere near is a place of quiet and soft shadows. A garden perhaps -- I will ask Simon …