The Last Supper (1)

It happened again.
You remember
that I told you about
the donkey
and how
it was there ready and waiting
for us
to take it
to the Master
for that ride
into Jerusalem.

That was such
a good day
but
it seemed so long ago now.
So much had happened
since then.
Dark things.
I can’t put my finger on it
but there was an air
of tension;
of apprehension;
of expectancy,
but not a nice kind,
more like
foreboding.
It was putting a damper
on the build up
to the Passover celebrations.
But
this is what
we had come
to celebrate,
so celebrate, we would.

And that was when
it happened again.
We asked Jesus
where
He wanted to have
the meal.
I mean, we didn’t know;
we didn’t have anywhere in mind;
we didn’t know
Jerusalem.
But straight away
He told us
where to find the place;
who to ask;
what to say.
So off we went
and it was just
as He had said.
I know,
after all this time,
I shouldn’t have been surprised,
but I was.

As we prepared
for the meal
we cheered up
a little.
If He could
arrange things
in all the smallest detail,
the man;
the water jar;
the house;
the room;
well he must be
in control.
Surely
He wouldn’t let
all the undercurrents;
the rumours
of behind the scenes plotting;
the evil forces
which we felt
rather than saw;
all this
intangible darkness
get the better of Him.
If we were aware of it
then He must be.
Maybe
the meal
was His time.
He would go out
and show them all.
Maybe
this was the start
when ‘good’ would triumph.
Because He was
‘good’.
He was so lovely
to be with
even if we didn’t
always understand
what He did;
what He said;
what He wanted from us.
We couldn’t leave.
I mean
where would we have gone?

So,
by the evening,
we had everything sorted,
not just in the room
but in our minds.
This was it;
the beginning;
the start
of a new adventure
even more thrilling
than the past few years had been.

We welcomed them all in.
We sat down to eat.
And we watched;
and we waited;
and we listened.
Our expectations were so high.
And then
Jesus said,
One
of
you
will
betray
Me…

© Kathleen Wilks