Holy Week Is Here: A Poem from Matthew’s Gospel—Chapters 21–26

Holy Week is here.

Palm branches wave

hosanna come to save,

misunderstood Messiah

turned tables move by ya,

cursing the fruitless fig

authority questioned big.

Be the son who obeys

not the tenants who destroy

divide and kill

the Master’s servants

and Son.

Holy week is here.

Nothing is more important 

than the Wedding Feast,

come and celebrate

dressed appropriately.

Give to Caesar Caesar’s,

give to God God’s.

The resurrection is coming,

all relationships changed

for good,

with the God of the living

not of the dead.

Holy week is here.

Jesus questioned by Pharisees and Sadducees,

this is sad—you see

they question the greatest commandment—

Love God—Love your neighbor.

Whose son is the Christ

if David calls him Lord?

If then David calls him Lord

how is he his son?

No more questions.

Now only conspiring and conniving,

Jesus condemning,

bringing woe to the Scribes and Pharisees,

for His disciples and crowds,

hypocrisy and heartless leaders

shutting the Kingdom.

Blind guides

full of greed and self-indulgence,

whitewashed tombs

full of dead men’s bones—

hypocrites.

Holy week is here.

The temple will be torn down.

Not one stone on top of another.

Many will come lying

I am the Christ.

Don’t listen.

Wars and rumors of wars,

earthquakes and famines,

birth pains begin.

Tribulation and trial will come.

Many will fall away.

The love of many grows cold.

Those who endure to the end

will be saved.

The Gospel of the Kingdom will

be proclaimed throughout the whole world—

a testimony to all nations.

Again the abomination of desolation

will come—life will be hard.

These hard days will be cut short

until the Son of Man comes on the clouds.

Angels sent out 

to gather the elect

from every nation.

Watch the fig tree.

Summer is near.

He is almost here.

Earth will pass—

His Words will not.

No one knows 

the Day or hour

the Son of Man 

will come

and find the faithful and wise 

servant awake—

working—not sleeping.

Holy week is here.

Have oil in your lamps.

Don’t bury your talent.

Invest it.

The Master is coming

expecting a return.

When He returns

the Shepherd will separate 

sheep from goats.

Sheep inherit the Kingdom.

Had clothed and fed

the Master.

Goats did not.

They go away punished—

the sheep to eternal life.

Holy week is here.

And the religious leaders

perceive Jesus speaks against them.

Correct perception.

Their plots increase to arrest

Jesus by stealth to kill.

In Bethany a woman approaches

to waste an expensive

alabaster flask of ointment.

What a waste!

Give to the poor.

No.

What she has done is beautiful.

She’ll be remembered by all.

She’s prepared me for burial.

Judas is frustrated.

What will you give 

if I hand him over?

Thirty pieces of silver

will do.

He looks for his chance.

My time is here.

Go prepare the Passover.

One of you will betray me.

Not I.

Is it I?

You have said so.

Take, eat.

Take, drink.

My blood of the covenant

for the forgiveness of sins.

All will fall away.

When the Shepherd 

is stricken

the sheep will scatter.

Holy Week is here.

Sit and watch.

Stay awake.

Father take the cup.

Not my will

but yours

What?

You can’t stay awake?

Rise—we gotta go.

My betrayer is here.

The crowd and priests

come with swords and clubs.

Betrayed with a kiss.

Do what you came to do.

A sword swings.

An ear falls.

Put your sword away.

Twelve legions of angels

could come with a call.

Yet, you come after all this time,

with swords and clubs? 

This is not your work.

This is taking place to fill-full

the Scriptures of the prophets.

Jesus bound.

The disciples flee.

False testimonies fly.

Jesus—speechless.

Until He speaks

and says they will see 

Him coming on the clouds

of heaven.

Robes torn.

He deserves death.

Peter denies—

three times.

The rooster crows.

His hour is here.

Holy week is here.

In summary,

so much condensed 

into this week

for you,

for me,

for the world.

Pride and power confronted.

Humility for the sorrowful,

displayed in word and deed,

through body and blood,

laid down on the tree

for you and me.

Holy week is here.

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