Rebecca Carpenter

            From the crest of the Mount of Olives, my eyes studied the magnificence of Jerusalem.  Suddenly, singing and loud talking roused me from my thoughts.  Ahead of me a large crowd stretched down the hilly road and into the city.  During the week before Passover, the city was filled with pilgrims, and crowds were a normal part of the observance.  However, the commotion seemed different so I strained to see what was going on. 

            “It is Jesus!!!” a young man exclaimed.

            “He has come to save us!” another yelled.

            “Do you think he will heal me?” a crippled girl implored.

            With excitement, I hurried to join the horde of people.  I had heard so many stories of His teachings and healings but had never seen Him.  I was thrilled to be a part of the procession as we descended the Mount of Olives.  When I noticed others throwing cloaks and palm branches on the road in front of Him, I ran to a nearby tree and pulled off some branches.  As I threw them unto the road, I looked up to see Jesus on a colt.  The surefooted donkey stepped carefully among the offerings in its way somehow knowing that it carried a precious passenger.  I stepped back to allow them to pass and stared at the rider.  Jesus turned, and His eyes pierced mine.  I was mesmerized by the compassion and then saw the sadness.  That brief look felt as though He saw into my soul, but why was He sad? 

            There was so much singing and dancing that it felt like a huge party.  Jesus was followed by throngs of revelers and His disciples.  Was I the only one who noticed his sadness?  For several minutes, I stood there silently—letting the procession pass me by.  I did not understand.  Was it just my imagination?  

            Alone, slipping and sliding along the trail to the city, I attempted to catch up.  What had been an easy trek when Jesus was there became lonely, treacherous, and difficult.  “Wait for me!” I cried.  No one responded. 

            Struggling, frustrated, and tired, I finally made it to the city wall.  Just as He entered the stone gate, Jesus turned and searched the mass of people.  He caught my eye, smiled, and nodded before resuming His journey.  He really cared about me and knew that I was still following Him.  With relief, I rejoined the line and no longer felt alone.

            The sun was overhead.  I must hurry and return with the supplies I had bought for the cook.  As a servant girl, I should not have been taking time to participate in the procession, but something about Jesus compelled me to follow Him.  I had such a desire to know more about Him and learn from Him.  Surely, He would be teaching in the city before the Passover.  Perhaps I would be able to slip away and hear Him.