Like The Thunder Roaring

2. the taste of eternity is here on our lips

Jerusalem is alive with the sounds of the Festival of Unleavened Bread. The streets are teeming with crowds of people present to celebrate the Passover. The sounds are not all pleasant—the closer to the temple one is, the louder the sound of the sacrifices and all that they entail—but there is a sense of momentary reprieve among the Jews. It's a tense reprieve, for sure, it's impossible to ignore Roman oppression entirely, but a reprieve nonetheless.

As Peter and John approach the City, they pass a family. A little boy asks his father, "What does this ceremony mean?"

Peter continues walking with singleminded intent, but John lingers behind to hear the man's answer.

"We're going to sacrifice to the Lord," the man says. "He passed over our people and spared our homes to strike down the Egyptians, freeing us from slavery."

"When?"

The man's expression, for a moment, turns wistful. "Long ago."

"So why do we still celebrate it?"

"Because it is good to remember what the Lord has done."

There's a tug on his sleeve. Peter's expression is completely serious, with no room for a smile. No room for laughter. "John, come on. We don't have time to delay."

"He's not timing us, Peter."

"I don't care. This is serious."

John bites back a reply that Peter wouldn't appreciate. Their brisk pace quickly leaves the family behind. They reach the gate quickly, and just inside waits a man holding a jar of water, just as Jesus had said there would be. John has learned that, whenever Jesus has said something will happen, it will come to pass.

We are going up to Jerusalem, Jesus had said, and the Son of Man will be delivered over to the chief priests and the teachers of the law. They will condemn him to death and will hand him over to the Gentiles, who will mock him and spit on him, flog him and kill him. Three days later he will rise.

John shakes his head of the memory as Peter greets the man waiting for them. He walks behind the two of them as they weave their way through the streets, content to linger and take in the spectacle. Sometimes, John wonders what it would've been like to be present at the exodus from Israel. What it must've been like to see the Lord work through Moses and Aaron, what the dry ground of the Red Sea must've felt under his feet.

But John has seen Moses. Sometimes, he wonders if it was a dream. Peter and James had been there, too, but they've never spoken about it. They've seen Jesus walk on water and bring the dead to life and heal the sick and lame, but seeing him on that mountain—seeing him talk to Moses and Elijah as if they were old friends—

They're outside the house. The man goes inside, and out comes the master of the house. They met him the first time they travelled through Jerusalem, barely familiar with each other, and they visited the last time that they were through. This time, though, they're looking to stop for something much more significant. "What can I do for you, my friends?" he asks, smiling widely even though they've surely interrupted his own preparations for the celebration.

Peter, coming awfully close to puffing his chest out but not quite, says, "The Teacher says, 'Where is my guest room, where I may eat the Passover with my disciples?'"

The man's eyes shine at the prospect at having Jesus near again. He leads the two of them upstairs where a furnished room waits, ready for them, as if the man was expecting them. Furnished, just like Jesus said it would be.

John's no longer surprised.

-

The stage is set when everyone arrives. The sacrifice has been made, the food has been prepared, the table has been set. They walk through the door of the upper room with smiles on their faces, exhilarated by the festival, by the celebration. The disciples show their youth in moments like these, almost intoxicated with the size of the crowd and the atmosphere and the purpose of why they're gathered.