מָשִׁיחַ/Μεσσίας/Χριστός

He considers the place across the valley before him with quiet solemnity. “The Garden of Eden, paradise, is never more than a moment away. A simple choice, a willingness to see & enter in.”

“And just as easily forgotten & lost,” she whispers in his heart. “Ironic that we call it the City of Peace, don’t you think, given how many wars have been & will be fought over it.”

“And yet somehow peace abides within you still,” he sighs. “You will always beckon me home to you.”

“You know what will happen, what they will do to you,” she warns.

“I know.”

“And you’re still determined to go?”

“I am. I have to.”

“You do not have to,” she objects. “There is always a choice. You could turn around right now & live out your life with contentment.”

“What peace could I ever know if I do not go? How could I ever be content?”

“Your mother is here. Simon & Mary, Martha & your beloved Eliezer, they would always be with you & will support whatever you decide to do.”

“Mother would be relieved, but she would not be happy. She knows what I have to do. The rest may not understand right now, but they will come to it.”

“They will forget.”

“You will remind them.”

“And they will forget again. How often would you have me reveal it over to them?”

“As many times as it takes.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I do.”

“God would never require this of you. God does not need this.”

“But they do. How will they ever come to believe if I am not willing to surrender myself to God’s love & grace? How will they ever understand what it is to enter into God’s reign if I am not ready to subject myself to it?”

A long silence hangs between them before she finally responds.

“I do not know.”

“Neither do I.”

“You know that God loves you,” she softly encourages.

“And there’s nothing I could do that will ever change that fact.”

She directs his gaze gently toward the city. “You know that God loves them?”

“There’s nothing they could ever do to change it, either,” he affirms.

“And God’s grace?”

“Forever a necessity, for me as much as for any.”

“So what is your hope, this thing you want so desperately to accomplish?”

“The blessed community, paradise regained, God’s reign become real among us, even if only for a single moment. I long for both love & grace to become our constant, to become that which we are not only ready & willing to extend but also to receive. I ache for them to hunger & thirst after peace & community that we might become one in faith, hope & love.”

“One moment is all they will grant you. A single blink of an eye & they will forget all you have ever taught &/or done.”

“You will remind them. You will be their counselor & comfort, just as you have been with me, their spirit of remembrance, faith, hope, love & empowerment.”

His eyes close, beginning to brim. She detects the abuse of a slight tremble coursing through him.

“They will kill you.”

His eyes press more tightly.

“But first they will hurt you.”

A single tear escapes, marking its way across his cheek.

“It’s going to be bad.”

Both cheeks are now damp, his trembling more palpable.

“It’s the hardest thing you’ll ever do, the worst thing you will ever experience.”

“Not as hard as turning away would be,” he sobs, gasping before lifting his eyes toward the heavens. “Into your hands, O God….”

She takes his hands in hers as his head sinks down to his chest & he falls to his knees. She wraps her arms around him, filling him with her breath.

Breathe. Just breathe.

She holds his cheeks, lifting his face to look into his sodden eyes. “מָשִׁיח (mah-shee'-akh), Μεσσίας (mes-see'-as), Χριστός (khris-TOS), an anointed, the anointed, the Anointed One. How do we know thee?”

She turns with him, looking out through his eyes upon the place called peace & weeps. “I am רוּחַ (roo'-akh) & חָכְמָה (khok-MAH), holy spirit & wisdom divine. I anoint, only to have you kill those whom I send to you. How often have I wanted to gather you as a hen gathers her chicks beneath her wings, but you would have none of it?”

“You anoint & beg my healing, to cast out demons, sickness, & forestall death,” she muses. “You anoint kings & queens & priests among you, claiming it even as a visitation of my grace, all that you might no longer have to hear my voice.”

“I anoint,” her countenance darkening within him, “& you throw stones, drive them away, cast them down, or hang them from trees, such that those who would hear & allow me to speak through them must hide themselves among foreigners or within caves.”

“Yes, I am speaking to you who claim me as your own, not to those who have yet to invoke such familiarity.” Can there be such a thing as venom filled with grace? If so, that’s how she churns through his heart, soul & mind.

“We have faced each other in the deep recesses of the night, wrestling unto daybreak. You wished to own me, but with the rising sun we were both changed. You turned my heart toward you, even as I was awakened within you. And I told you that you were no longer יַעֲקֹב (Ya`aqob), the trickster, usurper, but יִשְׂרָאֵל (Yisra'el), for you have seen my face & lived.”

“But staying awake is no easier for the soul than it is for the body,” she speaks softly to herself within him. “Over & over again you have fallen asleep to my presence. And as with a single yawn, all it takes is one to bring the whole body to the precipice of slumber.” She shakes his head, “The truth is so simple, it’s easy to forget.”

His shoulders slump & his tears flow freely as he sighs, “And you will forget. Not only you who stand before me in Jerusalem,” he presses his eyes shut, “but you who have followed me all this time.”

And now he begins to laugh, wiping the tears from his cheeks as they continue to flow, “And then you’ll remember & forget again, only to remember & forget once more, twice more, thrice, four times, ‘til the end of times more.”

Composing himself he takes the heft of it. “But for a moment it will all become real. I shall be restored to you, not for vengeance or wrath for all that you have done to me, but for love filled with grace. And the truth of it—that God loves you & there’s nothing you can do about it—not even this—& that grace is forever, foundational & real—you shall see it & hear it & taste it & smell it & feel it & know it, remembering & recognizing it in all its forms forevermore…,”

“…even should you once more fall asleep to it & need to be awakened again. It is here, I am here, we are here, the reign of God is & always will be here within & among you. The invitation stands. No RSVP required. Just come as you are & enter in.”

“They will forget,” she whispers.

“I know.”

“Even Peter, Mary, Martha, Eliezer…, they will all forget.”

“You will remind them.”

“They will twist your words, take control, become the gatekeepers who bar the way rather than showing it.”

“The words will remain.”

“They will cut them off, break the pericopes so as to insist the promise is only for some.”

“The testimony will stand.”

“In your name they will deny entrance on the basis of race, nationality, skin color, station, class, doctrine &/or creed, gender &/or gender identity.”

“The winds of the spirit will continue to blow, your breath shall breathe through them.”

“They will turn your words into dogma, means of grace into canon law, requiring it of everyone even though they themselves do not keep it.”

“You will shine your light upon any & all hypocrisy.”

“They will redefine justice, mercy & holiness to rationalize their own status & privilege to the exclusion of others.”

“You will break them down until they return to me.”

“They will kill, murder, rape & destroy on your behalf, raising your banner over every desolating sacrilege.”

“I will weep for them, for all who are lost.”

"They shall cry, Lord! Lord!"

"Without ever having known me."

“They will blame you for every evil they suffer, even when they themselves perform it.”

“And I—we—shall beg their forgiveness. For naught can abide, not even we, without grace.”

She leans insidiously toward his soul's ear, sinister with accusation, “They shall destroy it—these words, all memory of you, everything—should they ever come to understand the truth of it & find they can no longer distort its meaning for their own purposes. Your teachings will be the first thing burned by the Church.”

“They shall not understand until they are ready to receive it.”

A single tear marks its way across her cheek, filling both his spleen & heart with warmth. Comfort. Peace.

“You are the מָשִׁיח (mah-shee'-akh), Μεσσίας (mes-see'-as), Χριστός (khris-TOS), anointed, the Anointed One,” she says to him. “Never doubt that for a moment.”

They wash & dry their face before turning as one toward the disciples, firm & resolute.

“It is time. Do you have the donkey?”