Here it is "Passover Shepherd"
Mate it’s hot, just standing here surrounded by my scattered flock of sheep, the sun is relentless in its gaze, almost like it’s got a personal mission to roast me or turn me into a dehydrated stump, it’s not helping with fly strike either as the little black brutes search for moisture around my fat tailed flock.
What I would do for a cloud or two to drift over!
Look at that flock just hanging around, finding what ever shade there is behind the rocks and under the trees, then again they’re better off than those poor bods travelling down there.
For the first time in weeks the traffic has thinned out, what a hustle and bustle there’s been day and night, hard to get the flock to settle at night and even harder to settle myself. Animals and carts, and the odd yell from some disgruntled traveller.
I just leave them to it, you see I like it up here watching the sheep, watching the weather, waiting for a shady cloud to pass over.
Where are they going? They’re all off to the big city, David the most famous of shepherd’s city, Jerusalem! All off to the temple and why; too sacrifice a lamb.
The whole thing is ironic, streets jammed with people off to make a sacrifice, Marketplaces filled with the sound of sheep and goats, cages filled with birds, sacrifices for sale. There’s money being made in that city, big money, corrupt money. It’s not right; even the Gentile court of the temple has become a place of commerce.
You see these people, these religious people get all wrapped up in endless observances, the festivities; up before the crack of dawn and retiring way to late for any sane man or beast. These people find some strange fulfilment in the pageantry, all very dramatic.
Not me, blow that, what kind of a God would be appeased by the death of an animal?
I’ve never voiced that opinion before, may be I should just shut my trap, keep my thoughts to myself here on the hill, but no this one time it needs to be said!
It isn’t the slaughter of the animals that gets to me, I’m a shepherd and I’ve done my share.
It’s just that it’s endless, for years I’ve seen people come and go, backwards and forwards. I wonder how many caravans, how many sacrifices and how many carcasses.
The memories of it all stalk me,… memories of uncontrolled anger, … uncontrolled desire,…uncontrolled anxiety. And I’ve got my own issues, so many mistakes,… so many stumbles, so much guilt!
God himself seems so far away. Lamb after lamb, Passover after Passover. Yet I still feel the same.
So dry, so hot – I ask you this; tell me, will the blood of yet another lamb really matter?
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