Happy Palm Sunday! One more week left of Lent.
In today's passage, we have the Last Supper ahead of Gethsemane. I think that, plus Palm Sunday, plus the fact that I just watched Jesus Christ Superstar to help set the Holy Week mood, has made me a bit morose. It's coming, you know. And the passages aren't pretty and the truth is even worse. It's a ugly thing, this week, which is why it's so important. It's made so beautiful at the end.
But for now, it's just bad.
Looking back on Mark (and maybe it's a bit early to do this), I mostly remember healings. So many healings. Jesus was always healing those that wanted it, need it, or asked for it (and on a few occasions, demanded it). So I can see how Peter would be so positive that yes, he was going to remain true, even though Jesus said that wouldn't be the case. And I can see the disciples would be confused, about the whole part about wine-being-blood and bread-being-flesh. And they would have been able to read the mood, right? Jesus probably wasn't happy or excited. He's about to be panicking and praying in terror next chapter. It would be human to be anxious now. And if the disciples could see that, wouldn't that just make the whole thing worse?
We picture the Last Supper as this calm happy meal, but I can't see it being that way at all. There had to have been this undercurrent of fear, or foreboding, or something. I mean, Judas runs off, so there's already dischord. And in the next, oh, eighteen hours, the world is going to turn upside down for the disciples. It's all going to change.
If they were sensitive, they would feel that coming. It is going to be heartbreaking. You can't even trust yourself at that point--Peter has been told he's going to falter. The last supper must have been awful. Not just a sad last meal with friends, like I've pictured it. It's a tragic meal.
Dunno how that relates to me. Just...whew. It's about to get bad.