I was privileged to spend a few hours in the place called Golgotha today, Good Friday, and observe the people as they came to this place where Jesus was crucified.
As I sat in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher and observed, I began to write this poem.
No Longer a Question
Every nation, so many faces
Weary, crying eyes, fearful questions
1 Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God.
2 Speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem, and cry unto her, that her warfare is accomplished, that her iniquity is pardoned: for she hath received of the Lord‘s hand double for all her sins.
When the children of Israel sinned, they were often smitten in the very thing that they sinned, but they were also comforted with the very thing that caused them to sin.
(Excerpt from Theological Dictionary of Rabbinic Judaism, Vol 3, 31. Jacob Neusner – Slight modifications and edits.)
