Triumph

Day of Triumph (Simon the Zealot)

They called me a zealot, and even though I am

I’ve found a new way to freedom

He called me to follow him and at first

I was afraid to leave my fight.

But there was a kind of heaven in his call, a hope of glory

So I found him, my hands still stained with vigilante justice, ready to leave it all behind

My brothers riding away into the night

their battles, their fears,their hateful eyes

the scars put there by an empire unjust

whose only goal is to oppress.

These are who I left.

and I joined Jesus despite my reservations, I followed with the end in mind,
waiting for revolution, for freedom and peace

He spoke of days to come and the Word of God

with authority like a man who knew something we’d all missed.

                He preaches about peace and swords and speaks in riddles

Things that can’t be ignored

He challenges those who ask questions,

He angers the officials,

And he worries those in power.
yet he loves the ones with bruises and scars,

The rejected and broken, the unloved and unclean

And I think he loves even me.

So I walked with him into Passover, with tree branches and coats laid out before us

With songs being sung by the children

on the corners of the street

With Hosanna ringing in my own ears

The daughters of Zion and the donkey’s colt

And all of the longings, all of my hopes, all of my fears

Cast aside, watching him triumphantly ride

But amidst that triumph, I saw that sadness in his eyes

The sense of hesitation in every stride we took toward Jerusalem

I thought about that quiet way he said the things he thought
and how none of us knew what he meant

Things about suffering, carrying a cross, going ahead and leaving us behind.

And I remembered the prophesies: setting his face like flint, crying out to the crowds,

The misunderstood man, acquainted with grief.

Still I saw a savior, a hero, a cause not to abandon.

Then He’d used the word crucified.

And a sensation of dread crept into my heart

Because I wondered if maybe I’d been wrong

And I’d followed him, only to watch him die.
and then where would I be? Where would any of us be,

Except running away again, afraid for our lives?
I had been waiting for him to show his power
to start a fire

That would ignite the whole nation to stand up and fight

He would redeem us from this murky world of injustice and lies

And then all of the battles I’d fought, even ones that had been lost

Would be worth it, would prove to the world my zeal had not been in vain.

He threw over their tables in the temple

And shouted about his father’s house

Those gentle hands turned violent against those I’d once hated

We stood with him while he whipped the vendors

And cast their money to the ground
Watching from the distance, the priests and authorities

The religious ones amidst the tax collectors and sinners

And Jesus, purging the temple of everything unclean
I surveyed the scene: my brothers, the Pharisees, and the vendors on the run

And that look in the Master’s face, his eyes burning, his face like flint there in Jerusalem

Inside I laughed.

The revolution had begun