Moving Toward. . .

 Well do I remember the last time I saw Jesus the Nazarene. Judas had come to me at the noon hour of  that Thursday, and bidden me prepare supper for Jesus and His friends. . . . At twilight He came and His followers, and they sat in the upper chamber around the board, but they were silent and quiet. . . . They stayed until  it was full dark, and then they all descended together from the upper chamber, but at the foot of the stairs Jesus tarried awhile. And He looked at me and my wife, and He placed His hand upon the head of my daughter and He said, “Good night to you all.” [from “Ahaz the Portly” Jesus the Son of Man, Kahlil Gibran]

In the dark night we call to one another and cry for help, while the ghost of Death stands in our midst stretching his black wings over us and, with his iron hands, pushes our souls into the abyss.

In the dark night Death strides on and we follow him frightened and moaning. Not one of us is capable of halting the fateful procession or even nourishing a hope of its end.

In the dark night Death walks and we walk behind him. And when he looks backward, hundreds of souls fall down on both sides of the road. And he who falls, sleeps and never awakens. And he who keeps his footing marches on fearfully in the dread certainty of falling later and joining those who have yielded to Death and entered the eternal sleep. But Death marches on, gazing at the distant Evening Twilight. [In the Dark Night, Kahlil Gibran]

We walk on,  following. . .knowing. . .our cheeks bathed in tears. We keep our footing.



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