The Hour of Shadows

When I first met Jesus he said the strangest thing to me...
I told him my name and asked if I could be his disciple, 
looking right at me he said..."The tree is know by its fruit, come, stay with us."
This man, charismatic and strange, 
I was perplexed, not knowing what he meant, I began to watch him closely. 

Jesus kept his circle small, 
always ready to see who walked up to him and who slithered, 
He knew all along where Judas's heart was, 
He knew the taste of that fruit would be bitter. 

I was amazed at the power he had over the people.
So thrilling, 
so charismatic and yet so maddeningly humble, 
Surely there must be more?
I grew troubled. 
I think that Jesus noticed too, 
the growing crowds, 
knowing that I did not understand, 
Jesus knew that what I found in those magnetioc crowds was not what he was looking for. 

(Jesus was a lamb and Judas was a snake.) 

Jesus' followers are blind to what he can do, 
if only he would lsiten to me, 
why cant he see how much he could do if he would only use his power? 
There are people who speak his name and blasphemy in the same sentence! 
He could be King, not just a shepard to the lost. 

Then came the day he entered into Jerusalem riding on a donkey!
Throwing people out of the Temple, 
ignoring the priests, speaking of his Father's house and calling it a den of thieves, 
has he lost his mind? 
I could see the rage and I knew that those who criticized Jesus knew how I felt to.
(they also slithered...) 
Jesus could no longer be ignored, 
the massive crowds adored him, 
he kept on drawing them in. 

Jesus spoke about his hour coming. 
He spoke about being handed over and looked at me when he said it. 
(I could see the shadows behind him and his words blended in with them.) 
Soon his hour would be molded into my coming hour and those shadows grew, 
they followed me and influenced me and made me angry amnd resentful. 
The same way I felt when he allowed that woman to pour that expensive perfume on his head and feet and then told me to leave her alone when I questioned the waste. 

When I went to see the priests I only asked them one question, 
I only asked them what they would give me if I handed him over to them? 
They were delighted and promised to pay me money, 
they promised that they would deal with him fairly and according to the law. 
All along those shadows had grown and were casting over me as if they were hands reaching out to grab me, 
building and building as if it was night. 

The Passover was here and I knew Jesus would eat with is followers and then he would go to Gethsemane, 
it was the perfect spot, 
quiet and away from the crowds, 
those adoring crowds that made me uneasy.

At supper he spoke of danger, 
I am sure he knew! 
He spoke of the Shepard being struck and the sheep being scattered. 
He said all of us would lose faith, 
and that one of us would betray him. 
(the tree is known by its fruit.) 
Once again he startled me with his haunting words, he said,

"What you are going to do, do quickly." 

I left and it was dark. 
The shadows were long and all around and again I had the feeling of being grabbed for, 
faint whispers on the wind, 
a cold touch on the breeze, 
as I hurried to do what I was going to do. 

In the dark I could see Jesus waiting. 
He was standing but in great distress, slumped shoulders and a fear that I had not seen before. 
This was his hour, the hour he kept talking about. 
His hour, 
my hour was also about to begin, 
when I kissed him in greeting he mentioned betrayal and told me that my hour had come, 
the hour of shadows. 

They led him away, roughly and my heart sank, 
I followed at a distance, 
engulfed in my shadows, 
regret was building in my heart and overflowing into my tears, eyes swollen and teeth chattering in shivers with a growing dread. 
I began to feel I had been used, 
picked for this awful crime, 
the blood of Jesus was on my hands. 

Jesus was right, 
this was my hour, 
this hour of shadows, of deciet and underhanded motives, 
I was covered with innocent blood, 
I returned the money to those who gave it to me. 
I threw it all over the ground as they turned away from me. 
The shadows followed me as I made my way to a tree and hanged myself, 
only the shadows remained. 

As the sun rose it cast long shadows all along the ground as I swayed in the breeze, 
around the time that Jesus was being led away the blood draining from his face and body, 
those shadows pulling him further and further away. 

T. S. Deary 
3/20/24