O Jesus of Nazareth, Thorns we twisted and turned Upon your head we placed, Crowning you King of the Jews. Upon you we spat; With a reed we struck your head. Kneeling in homage, we mocked, With our lips; with our hearts. Crucified, we crucified, Nailing you to the tree Watching you whither and bleed As darkness came over the land. From deep you cried out, Not at us, but to your Father: “My God, my God, my God— “Why have you forsaken me?” Those words cut to the depth of our soul Reverberating from within We watched you breathe your last, And the curtain was torn in two. From what we have seen and heard, Indeed, from what we have done, We echo the words of the centurion, That truly, the Son of God you are! © 1999 Amy Boucher Pye
Holy Week. I feel busy this week. Too busy. But I offer this poem that I wrote some years ago to remind myself to stop and consider the grand story of redemption being played out this week.