After everything is said and done;

                                    the Gospel proclaimed,

                                                            the Spirit displayed,

                                    the possibilities presented,

                                                            the people empowered;

                       

                        Jesus is confronted with what everyone

                                    who has ever sought to change the world

                                                            is left with in the end:-

                                                                        total and utter despair.

 

                        Mind-numbing,

                                                strength-sapping,

                                                                        soul-destroying despair.

           

                        It is a galaxy of nothingness and nobodyness

                                    which lurks in the heart’s dark interior.

 

                        It is a gaping hole at the centre of the heart,

                                    into which meaning and energy tumble.

 

                        It is a quagmire at the bottom of the heart,

                                    where the dreams life bears lie stillborn.

 

                        Jesus’ despair begins

                                    with the realisation that,

                                    among the multitudes who follow him,

                                                there is only a handful he can trust.

 

                        ‘When he comes to Jerusalem

                                    at the Passover Feast

                                                many believe in him

                                                when they see the signs he does.

                                   

                        But he does not trust himself to them

                                    because he knows the people well,

                                                and he knows how seldom they

                                                take such belief very seriously’.

 

                        His despair grows when the crowds

                                    that gather behind him in Galilee,

                                    rallying round the ringing cry for revolution,

                        Simply give up the struggle,

                                    turn their back on him, and go back home,

                                                when it comes time to pay their dues.

 

                        His despair grows when the crowds

                                    that gather before him in Jerusalem,

                                    singing his praises, applauding his miracles,

                        Quickly sidestep his agenda,

                                    deflect his challenge, dismiss his criticism,

                                                and go about their business as usual.

 

                        ‘O Jerusalem, Jerusalem,’ he cries,

                                    ‘killing the prophets, and stoning the seers.

                        How often

                                    would I have gathered your children together

                                    as a hen gathers her brood under her wings,

                                                                                      but you would not.’

 

                        ‘When he draws near to the city,

                                    he weeps over it, saying:

                        “Would that even today

                                    you knew the things that make for peace”.’

                        But they could not – would not – even try to understand,

                                                the things that he said ‘that make for peace’.

           

                        His despair grows even greater when it becomes obvious

                                    that one of his friends is going to betray him,

                        And all of his other friends are going to run away,

                                    at the very time when he needs them most.

 

                        Not even one of his closest companions seems to be

                                    able to stand beside him in his hour of need.

                       

                        He remembers asking his disciples, one by one,

                                    ‘Couldn’t you keep watch with me for one hour?’

                       

                        But there is no answer.

                                                            Only a long embarrassed silence.

 

                        He is abandoned. He is alone.

                                                                                        And he knows it.

 

                        All that is left for him is that, abandoned and alone,

                                    he will be faithful in the crucible of torment.

 

                        That he, at least,

                                    will die with dignity for what he believes in.

                        That he, at least,

                                    will lay down his life for the issues at stake.

                        That he, at least,

                                    will be a martyr for the sake of love and justice.

 

                        But Jesus’ despair,

                                    that has grown daily throughout his ministry,

                        grows even greater, when his moment of truth comes;

 

                        A tidal wave

                                    of terrible sorrow utterly overwhelms him,

                        engulfing him in an anguish,

                                                            from which there is no escape.

 

                        It mocks him

                                    with his dream of what might have been,

                        while crushing him

                                    with the reality of what is happening.

 

                        His final act of heroic resolve

                                    is totally misconstrued

                        by the throng standing around the foot of the cross.

 

                        They don’t see him as a courageous radical,

                                    dying for the people in the struggle for freedom.

                                   

                                    To them, ‘He’s a crook! A criminal!’

 

                        They don’t speak of him as an enlightened soul,

                                    sacrificing his life for the sake of his friends.

           

                                    To them, ‘He’s a fool! An idiot!’

                                   

                        They don’t weep for him;

                                                                        they laugh at him;

                        chortling among themselves about his impotence.

                       

                                    ‘He could save others,’ they scoff,

                                                                        ‘but can not save himself!’

                       

                        Now Jesus’ despair is monstrous.

                       

                        Here on his lonely wooden cross,

                                                his sense of the futility of it all

                                    grabs him by the throat

                                                and begins to slowly throttle him.

 

                        Has it come to this? He wonders.

                        All that he has sought to say and do…

                                    has it all merely come to this?

                                                To this …

                                                this travesty of compassion?

 

                        Has he, by his death, only managed

                                    to succeed in convincing everyone

                                    that everything that he has lived for … is false?

 

                        Is his mission, in the end,

                                    a complete mockery of love and of justice?

 

                        ‘Eli. Eli, lama sabach‑thani …’ he cries.

                                    ‘My God. My God, why have you forsaken me?’

 

                        The silence is deafening.

                                                            The heavens empty of comfort.

 

                        His humiliation is complete;

                        his body wracked with pain; 

                                                his soul broken with disappointment.

 

                        And yet, in spite of his loss,

                                    Jesus gambles on grace for one more time.

           

                        In one final act of trust

                                    he flings himself into ‘the everlasting arms’.

 

                        Not seeing, nor hearing, scarcely breathing,                                                                

                              Jesus casts his spirit into the mystery of God.

 

                        ‘Father,’ he says, expiring,

                                    ‘into your safe keeping I commit my spirit’.

 

This is an except from my book Christi-Anarchy which Wipf & Stock has recently re-published in the US and is now available worldwide along with Not Religion But Love, A Divine Society, Learnings, Bearings and People Of Compassion. Check out The Dave Andrews Legacy Series