A poem by Juanita Ryan
They took Jesus to the high priest, and all the chief priests,
elders and teachers of the law came together.
I stood with you at your trial today,
from the safety of my home,
removed by centuries of time.
How often I have read this scene.
How rarely I have stayed long enough
to feel the stunning terror of its truth.
This was not the court of a crazed tyrant,
or of strangers to faith.
The text spells it out.
You were taken to the high priest,
where the chief priests, teachers of the law
and the elders had assembled.
I scanned their stern faces.
I palpated their righteous anger.
My heart froze. My lungs seized.
Religious leaders with so much power.
Believing they spoke
with the voice of God.
Is there a mob more dangerous?
Self righteous enemies
of all they claim to defend.
Yet, you. You stood before them,
Prince of Peace,
In the face of terrible power,
it was you, the Presence of
love’s enduring strength, who reigned.