Your Saviour is Being Held...

Yes, but held where? In a queue of mis-understanding religious leaders beying for his blood just two days ago, on Maundy Thursday? In the thousands who listened to them but could not hear his still, small voice of calm? His innocent bleating rather than beying? His failure to act in the face of blatant injustice to his person, to save his own life? Could this really be the Christ, the pivot of history motionless as his dead body was hastily taken down from the cross and buried in a borrowed tomb?
Your saviour is being held in a queue. Please wait.
But for how long? Until the slaughter not just of one man, but millions of children yet unborn has stopped? Until the sword of power is replaced by the ploughshare of universal equality? Until all the hungry are fed and nobody thirsts either for the water of life or uncontaminated, donated blodd?
Your saviour is being held in a queue. Please wait.
Until the war of words is replaced by the harvest of hope? Until the darkness of despair is banished by the lightness of endless day?
Your saviour is being held in a queue. Please wait..
Until this shining, beautiful new moon yields to the bright, blinding radiance of the star of the morning. Until female eyes drained by too much mournful crying discover...what? Until the friends, still quivering with fear and incomprehension realise...yes?
Your saviour is being held in a queue. Your call will be answered shortly. Please wait.
On Holy Saturday night, peace be with you.
Mark.