I slip between my sheets. It’s much later than I was hoping to get to bed. I have iPod in hand and I’m going to listen to the crucifixion story before I go to bed every night, this being the first in spite of the hour. I listen to Matthew’s account, but because of how late it is, I slip in and out of consciousness...
I awaken to hear some of the most wicked words ever spoken -
“What will ye give me, and I will deliver Him unto you?
I’ve hear those words and the response before, many times. But they jar my freshly conscious mind.
“And they covenanted with him for thirty pieces of silver.”
Two images flash across my mind’s eye. The first, of the Sombrero galaxy, my favorite, 28 million lightyears from home. And God’s words accompany it, “Hath not my hand made all these things?” *
The second is the pale blue dot picture. Us, as seen from the edge of our solar system, by Voyager I on its way out. Us, suspended a mere "mote... on a sunbeam". ** Little tiny us.
You and I, we live on that speck.
And we, we sell Him for 30, just 30 pieces of silver.
My mind recoils. How dare anyone sell Him, Him, for 30 ridiculous pieces of silver. All the gold on the planet (this bitty planet) wouldn’t be enough to buy His fingernail. Don’t you know what He’s worth??
I drift asleep again. I awaken to hear rabble (us) demanding the release of Barabbas, insisting that this One that has lavishly honored our pale blue dot by visiting it in person, this One that made the Sombrero galaxy, and Andromeda galaxy, and the Black Eye galaxy, and our own Milky Way, and 100 billion others (that we know of), we want Him dead. We don’t think He is worth any more than 30 gray pieces of cheap metal.
Eventually I awaken again, enough to turn off my iPod, and then I sleep solid until my alarm awakens me. My thoughts pick up where they left off, but with a humiliating streak in them now. How many times have I gone through my day, been faced with the choice between Him and some sinful Barabbas, and traded Him for 30 seconds of carnal thought, of sinful attitude, 30 words better left unspoken, and sent Him away to be crucified afresh at my choice? How many times have I done worse?
Wait, Stop. Oh please stop.
Don’t you know what He’s worth?
|Black Eye Galaxy|
"Hands that flung stars into space, to cruel nails surrendered." - Graham Kendrick
** Carl Sagan
** Carl Sagan
Photo credit: NASA, Hubble Images