Sunday, April 1, 2012


HE SEEMED 
SO ELSEWHERE

[This is a Palm Sunday Reflection for 2012.]


I stood on the side - on the edge of the crowd that day - wondering what was going on.

I looked at Jesus’ face - better his eyes - as he came up the road that day. He seemed so elsewhere.

Sitting on a donkey: what was that all about? Crowds waiving palms - praising him: what was that all about? He seemed so elsewhere.

Where was his mind? What was he thinking? What was he wondering about? What were those standing there that day thinking?

I know I’ve been there - at a meal - and I was a hundred miles away. I was chewing lamb, but in my thoughts - I was chewing on something else - planning something else - wanting to be elsewhere.

As the crowd along the road waved palms and shouted, “Hosanna!” I could spot a few of his enemies - tight faced - angry - planning something else.

I watched him all that week - a week that was to be different from all other weeks.

Weeks and months before this week, I heard him say - he had to get to Jerusalem. So I knew he was in Jerusalem long before he got to Jerusalem that day.

I knew he knew - this was to be his destiny - so here he was - but he seemed to be so elsewhere.

Life can often be what we didn’t plan it to be. We know what we want till we get what we want. And then we realize it wasn’t what we wanted.

That Thursday evening, I was close to the end of the table for that supper. I watched his hands. They were tapping the table at times. I watched him eyeing the bread - wincing as he broke it. I saw him tasting the wine slowly - and his face seemed to be sensing - that he knew he was about to be crushed.

I heard him say, “This is my body….” with the bread. “This is my blood ….” with the wine. I heard him say, “This is the beginning of a New Passover, a New Exodus, a New Covenant, a New Life.”

I knew this was his last supper with us. I just knew that when I saw Judas slip out into the night. Something was wrong with Judas. He also could be so elsewhere.

At that meal I listened carefully. Jesus told us about loving one another. After he the shepherd would be slaughtered like the Lamb for the Passover Supper - we would be scattered. What was that all about? He was passing over too many steps that we hadn’t taken yet. After he's gone, he reminded us to remain together like branches on the vine - because separated we’d have no life within us. He told us to produce much fruit and in the meanwhile - to wash feet. He kept on talking about his Father - coming from and going back to him - sending a Spirit to us. None of us are scribes. Yet I wished there was someone who was taking this down.

I saw Jesus’ face tighten as he too went out into the night.

We followed him - bundled up together - in fear and in the dark.

He didn’t ask me to join him in prayer. Once more it was just Peter, James and John. However, I was watching - watching John in particular. It seemed that he was sensing something that Peter wasn’t. James? I am not sure. John always seemed to be taking it all in - seeming to be so elsewhere - at times.

I could hear Jesus’ frustration with Peter - not staying awake - but sleeping - while he Jesus was deep in prayer, deep in worry, deep in scare - deep in fear.

Silence. Night. What’s next?

Then I heard the soldiers coming with torches - burning bright torches - probably to arrest Jesus. I saw Judas’ face in the light. I saw the kiss. Jesus looked right at Judas. Judas turned away. And as they dragged Jesus away, Judas’ face fell. He seemed so elsewhere.

I stayed on the edge. They rushed Jesus to places behind big doors - strong gates - big walls. I couldn’t get inside. But I heard that they were beating and making fun of Jesus inside - with no clue what they were doing.

That Friday I heard the crowd screaming for Barabbas - screaming for crucifixion - and I thought I spotted in the crowd some of those I saw last Sunday who were praising him. I guess people can be like that.

I watched him being forced to carry his own cross on the way to Calvary. I think he caught my eye once - but I looked elsewhere. I didn’t know what to do.

I stayed at the edge of the crowd at Calvary. I saw some of his blood squirt from his hands when they nailed him to the cross - right onto the skin of a small boy who carried the bucket of nails and the hammer to Calvary. That was ironic because some cried, “His blood be upon us and upon our children.”

I heard him cry from the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

God seemed so elsewhere - so it seems - sometimes.

Jesus hung there for what seemed like hours.

Jesus seemed so elsewhere when he died.

I kept saying to myself, “Now what? Now what? Is there a next or do we all go back home - to all the elsewhere’s we’ve been thinking about the past three years - to all these elsewhere’s we all left behind?

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