Janet Parshall Commentary

Were you there?

         Can you imagine what it was like to be there? Crowded streets, busier than usual. It’s Passover.  The city swells to twice its usual population as worshippers come to make their Temple sacrifices.

         The streets of Jerusalem would have been a mess, not just because of the crowds but Herod was constantly adding on to the Temple.  His ego compelled him to build a 35 acre addition called “the platform” on which the Temple would sit.  Today’s “wailing wall” is evidence of that extension.

         But in the midst of the dust and din, comes a Man on a donkey.  The people hail Him, shouting, “Hosanna, blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord.”  What was it like to be a part of the cheering crowd?

         Shortly after His arrival, the Messiah would overturn the tables of the money changers who had defiled God’s house.  That same week, He is challenged by the Temple priests on His authority.

         He would talk with His disciples on the Mount of Olives and tell them not be deceived, reminding them that His word would not pass away.  What went through their minds as He told them He was coming back again?

         Later, He would break bread and drink a cup of remembrance with His closest friends.  He tells them one of them he would betray Him, and another would deny Him.

         Jesus would go to the garden and pray, asking His friends to join Him.  They refuse because sleep is more important to them. Alone, the Son of God would fall on His face and submit utterly and completely to the plan of the Father – even though the act of submission would mean physical, emotional, mental and spiritual torture.  But – the Son would say, “Yes” to the Father, and the world would be changed forever.

         The suffering Servant would stand before earthly authorities and endure not one but six illegal trials.  He would be accused of being “King of the Jews,” and
“the Christ.”  He would be guilty – as charged.

         The Roman guards would strip Him, strike Him, mock Him, whip Him, and crown Him.  The crowds would hurl insults, changing their “hosannas” into “crucify Him.”  The masses would press in, watching as He carried His own roughhewn cross – each step taking Him closer to Golgotha.

         The soldiers would pound metal spikes through the tendons in His lower arms and feet.  They would lift Him up between two felons and wait for death to claim his victim.  The hour comes, the Man from Galilee breaths His last. But death cannot declare victory, because death is about to be defeated.

         A stone would be moved, a grave emptied and an angel would declare, “He is risen!”  The chorus of Glory would sing for joy – and the hounds of hell would roar in anguish.  What must it have been like to be there?

         None of us were there – but HE was – and that’s what matters most.

         That’s my opinion.  I’m Janet Parshall.