Painting by Caravaggio: Taking of Christ
And It Was Night . . .
You stumble unseeing from the upper room and no number of lanterns and torches can dim your darkness now, Judas. When did you let the light go out? When did you begin to guard the hoard and spend starry evenings behind drawn tent flaps, running the coins through acquisitive fingers while the company sat in a circle outside, breaking bread and talking of light in the crackling campfire?
When did you fine-tune your ears to the clink of copper and silver and gold, letting the words of the Master fade out unheeded? When did you start to begrudge begging hands and when did you welcome disciples more for the treasures they gave than the treasures they were?
Now, in the dark of Gethsemane’s garden, you touch greedy lips to the Master’s cheek – a cheap giveaway to your cohorts of night.
Irene Zimmerman, OSF Woman Un-Bent
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