I thought about my conversation with the Greek, a long time back, but
unforgettable: our reality is nothing but a shadow-game on the walls of the
cave. Close your eyes and it disappears. But how can there be shadows
I left the temple and went down to the city. I needed friends. I went to
Veronica's, one of us for a long time. I found a gathering of women there,
and Yeshua's mother had also come, without the rest of the family. She had
come from Kefarnachum with some friends.
Miryam, tell Yeshua that I am ready.
Ready for what?
He will understand.
Should I tell him that he should visit you? Or would you rather go with us
to Bethany to see him there?
I will see him at the right time.
These words again: at the right time. There was no comfort to be found
there. So I went back up to the temple, but the sermon was over and the
people were streaming back to the city. But where was Yeshua? I met some of
our people here and there, but none knew where he was. Had what I feared
already happened? Had a hired assassin secretly killed him and dragged him
away? Had he been arrested? Before it got dark I went to Bethany. And there
I found him. Nothing bad had happened to him. He was only tired and his feet
ached. I still had two of those alabaster flasks containing the most
precious of all oils.
When, if not now.
Rabbi, allow me to wash and anoint your feet. I broke one of the flasks,
trickled some on his hair, and emptied the rest over his feet.
Yehuda yelled: What are you doing? You're spilling out a fortune!
Yeshua said: She is anointing me for my burial.
Didn't Yehuda hear that? Or else why did he say: We could have given the
money to the poor, or better still.
Yeshua said: Whenever people speak of me and of my death, this woman will
also be named.
I went outside so no one would see how I was about to break out in tears.
But no tears came. My pain was dry. I accepted the inevitable as though it
had already happened, and I thought: If only it was all over. When I saw
Yehuda later, I said: Well, do you still regret the use of the oil? It was
the oil with which kings are anointed.
He held my arm tightly: So you do believe that he's Yisrael's king?
You must be mad, Yehuda, that you don't understand anything. Three years
with him, and you understand nothing, nothing.
Frank Thomas Smith