Holy Monday
It was riddled with corruption and guilt,
that temple in Jerusalem,
No one could come and feel beloved
excepting the moneyed leadership.
—–
The tables were out and wares bought,
in that holy courtyard,
In poverty they came where exploitation
capitalised on the hungry poor.
—–
Pitiful returns on money exchanged,
and the costs of doves were high,
seeking redemption they paid it all,
to appease the law.
—-
He walked in and saw the oppression,
in a place that was holy,
he felt their pain, saw the cheating
and stood for truth that day.
—–
He overset the tables, loosed the doves
in his rage at the injustice.
Breathing hard he spoke the word –
this is a place of prayer.
—–
The temple curtain trembled and shook,
while people flocked to see,
the gentle, healing man, zealous for action
fighting for grace and love.
——
The stones in the courtyard,
besmeared and trodden,
looked up and praised
that awesome judgement.
——
The great blocks of stone, in
the sturdy temple walls,
shouted for equality and opportunity
to be shared for all.
——
The dust settled, shock waves at peace,
he looked up and wept for the many
who always die contributing to
corruption and coercion.
