As we read the Passion according to John, Jesus and his disciples have just finished the Last Supper. Now they walk along the streets of Jerusalem, pass through a gate in the city walls, cross a small valley, and begin ascending the slope of the Mount of Olives, where they plan to spend the night.
Their plans will be changed. In about an hour, Jesus will be arrested. In about 18 hours, he will be dead.
Some of us who are reading this page will die before the end of Lent. Most of us won’t. But one thing is certain: the day is coming when I shall die. How many hours, days, years do I have left?
There are two ways to think about this. One is to picture myself walking down a hill, gradually headed for the bottom where death awaits me. Another is to picture myself like a child in my mother’s womb, moving gradually towards birth into a new and broader life.
Deteriorating or developing?
These are two very different ways of looking at my death. More to the point, these are two very different ways of looking at my life on this earth.
From the Little Black Book Lent 2025
Smitten With Goodness 