Morning Prayer - The Meek King Comes To Me

My Lord and my King,

Today I watch you enter Jerusalem. Not on a warhorse, but meek, riding on a donkey, as it was foretold. You come in peace, even though you know a war for souls awaits you.

“Say to the daughter of Zion, ‘Behold, your king is coming to you, humble, and mounted on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a beast of burden.'” (Mt 21:5)

And my heart joins the shouts of the crowd that glorifies you today, even though it might forget you tomorrow. Today, with all my being, I want to call out in your honor.

“Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest!” (Mt 21:9)

But the joy quickly gives way to the solemnity of the Last Supper. There, among your own, you offer yourself, before offering yourself on the cross. You break the bread and offer me yourself.

“Take, eat; this is my body.” (Mt 26:26)

This is not just food, it is a Covenant. Your blood, poured out for the forgiveness of my sins. What immense love!

“For this is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.” (Mt 26:28)

In this holy hour, you also reveal our fragility. You foretell the denial and the betrayal. Mine too, Lord. How many times have I promised loyalty, only to be overcome by fear?

“Truly, I tell you, this very night, before the rooster crows, you will deny me three times.” (Mt 26:34)

In the Garden of Gethsemane, you face mortal anguish. Your soul is utterly burdened and you ask your friends to keep watch with you. Your soul is sorrowful, yet your disciples – I – sleep. We cannot stay awake, we lack the heart to truly recognize you in this hour.

“My soul is very sorrowful, even to death; remain here, and watch with me.” (Mt 26:38)

Your human nature asks the Father to let the cup of suffering pass, but your divine love surrenders completely.

“My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you.” (Mt 26:39)

Father, thy will be done!

In this surrender lies my salvation. In your perfect ‘yes’ to the Father, my rebellion is defeated. You drink the cup that I should have drunk.

“My Father, if this cannot pass unless I drink it, your will be done.” (Mt 26:42)

When they come for you, you show the way of peace. While I would have fought, you order weapons to be laid down.

“Put your sword back into its place. For all who take the sword will perish by the sword.” (Mt 26:52)

Before the high council you remain silent, but when they ask if you are the Messiah, your answer echoes through eternity.

“You have said so. But I tell you, from now on you will see the Son of Man seated at the right hand of Power and coming on the clouds of heaven.” (Mt 26:64)

I watch Peter as he denies you in fear. In his words, I hear the echo of my own cowardly moments.

“I do not know the man!” (Mt 26:74)

I hear Judas’s desperate cry as he realizes the weight of his sin.

“I have sinned by betraying innocent blood.” (Mt 27:4)

I see Pilate washing his hands, trying to shake off the responsibility, just as I try to do so many times.

“I am innocent of this man’s blood; see to it yourselves.” (Mt 27:24)

And I hear the horrific cry of the crowd, taking your blood upon themselves.

“His blood be on us and on our children!” (Mt 27:25)

On the cross, in the darkest hour, carrying the weight of all the sin of the world, you cry out to heaven.

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Mt 27:46)

Truly, You are the Son of God!

And right there, in your complete emptiness and sacrifice, the truth is revealed. The centurion at the foot of the cross, a pagan, sees clearly and confesses what my heart believes today.