A reflection for Holy Week.
A single grain of wheat. Something tiny and insignificant.
Is this how Jesus saw himself?
We see a giant striding across history,
founding a movement that changed humanity forever.
But a seed, something so tiny?
Something that only has worth when part of a huge flood of them?
Something that achieves almost nothing?
It’s easy to forget, sometimes, how obscure Jesus really was.
A backwater teacher in a backwater country.
Never travelling, never visiting Athens or Rome or Alexandria.
Never having an audience with the Emperor.
Refusing titles, honours, dignity.
The only people lower than him
were the ones he kept table with.
Jesus almost becomes a warrior king.
Jesus almost founds a huge church.
Jesus almost has crowds doing everything he asks.
Instead, he denounces violence.
He drives followers away by the impossibility of his demands.
He hides from the crowds.
A single grain of wheat, cast upon the ground, swallowed up by the dirt.
A grain of wheat, seemingly like thousands or millions just the same.
A death, an execution, like thousands carried out by the Romans
time and time again.
A death, almost forgotten,
an obscure footnote in history, if that.