Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Easter (05/30/05)
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TITLE: Ready for the Storm | Previous Challenge Entry
By Lori Gossert
06/06/05 -
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Across town, one of the chief priests empties a bag of silver coins into the hands of Judas. The clatter of the coins echoes through the night like seeds falling inside a hollow branch. Judas informs them that the signal will be a kiss. With Judas in the lead, the chief priests and guards march towards the garden. Their feet fall heavy to the steady rhythm of the bass string.
In the midst of the garden the disciples are already drawing heavy eyes. Jesus prays; the thick night mist enveloping Him like a fog rolling onto the shore from the depths of the sea. He looks up, seeing in a vision what will come to pass in just a few hours. It is morning, He is bloody and beaten, dragging a heavy wooden beam towards Golgotha. Jesus shivers. Lightning flashes through His mind, illumining the pain He must endure. A cold stormy wind cuts through Him, chilling His bones and His soul. His fists clench as if to grasp some sort of light, some sort of peace, but the cup He is about to drink offers nothing to hold onto. It is a rolling ocean. Jesus picks up the cup and stares into the dark depth of sins it holds. He pushes it away in disgust. He looks to His Father.
The heavy thumping of the marching mass draws nearer. Jesus stands and returns to His disciples. They sleep. He wakes them and asks again for them to keep watch and pray. He returns to His solitude and begins to pray again. He looks up a second time, seeing another vision. This time He is at Golgotha, a hardened Roman soldier nailing a long spike into His wrists. He cannot breath. Fear tries to creep into His heart. He begs for mercy for the visions. A silent weary tear makes a path down His face as He glances to where His friends have fallen asleep yet again. He knows that they mean to love Him, but He is just a lonely sailor on a stormy sea.
Jesus spots the cup. Picking it up again, He smells the wretched wickedness which fills its golden filigreed adornment. The stench is overwhelming and He thrusts the cup away from Him. He looks again to His father. Must I? Somewhere in the heavenly realms thousands of angels sing a mournful song that sounds like wind whistling through sails on a stormy sea. He stands to go and wake the disciples, pleading with them to pray. But He decides to let them sleep. Dropping to His knees again He runs His finger along the rim of the cup. He dips a finger into the cup, barely touching the vile liquid. It burns His finger.
The music picks up, the bass string getting ever louder and ever menacing. The pounding of hundreds of marching feet cause the ground beneath them to tremble. As Jesus prays once more, a final vision is given. It is three days later, the stone is rolled away and His grave clothes are neatly folded. He walks out of the tomb. He lives. Jesus knows the end, yet this distant triumph is no real friend as He faces the stormy night ahead. He looks to His father for comfort, knowing how much His father loves Him. He knows what He must do. He glances down at His calloused hands. They have healed the sick and calmed the sea. He gently touches each wrist. He can already feel the spikes.
Jesus picks the cup up a last time. The chief priests and guards enter the garden. Jesus nods in acceptance of His father’s will. The pounding beat of the music grows louder. Jesus drinks the cup. The ground trembles under the marching feet. Jesus stands. He calls for His disciples. They stand, disoriented. Judas leads the mass to his master. His heart beats violently. The disciples shudder. Jesus is calm. He turns to Judas.
The music returns to the simple rhythm with which it began. Judas takes those last few steps toward Jesus. The final strum of the bass string resounds as Judas leans in to kiss His friend. The world is motionless. The music ends.
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