This poem/prayer was written trying to see from the point of view of a disciple of Jesus who was not in the 12 and who was watching the events of Maundy Thursday unfold.
Mourning Thursday
the prayer of uncertain disciple
I expected more.
I expected more from a spiritual leader.
The parade, the palms, the pilgrimage,
all that was expected.
I thought this would be different.
That’s why I followed–
desiring healing, desiring wholeness, desiring justice.
I thought the world could be changed
because I had been changed.
Hosanna, hosanna.
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We were waiting.
We knew something was going to happen.
It was like the months following had been leading up to this.
Was this the time to overthrow the Romans?
Was this the time to put someone from the line of David back on the throne?
We spoke in whispers on the street
as we saw the candles merrily twinkling from the windows of the Upper Room.
We had no idea what was going on.
Hosanna, Hosanna.
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One of the 12 came out, but I couldn’t see which one.
He ran off, purposefully.
Maybe this was it!
Maybe this was the time!
The time when all my expectations would be met!
We were ready.
Hosanna, Hosanna.
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A group of us followed the Teacher to a garden.
We saw others falling asleep.
We saw the Teacher praying.
We stayed at a distance, murmuring
Hosanna, Hosanna.
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We saw Judas, and the kiss.
We saw the ear fall, the healing take place.
We saw Jesus arrested.
Hosanna, Hosanna.
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I expected more.
I expected more from a spiritual leader.
Hosanna, Hosanna.
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We left to mourn the death of our expectations.
Hosanna, Hosanna.
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