Via Delorosa

He is walking up Mount Olives to His place of agony to this peaceful place where olive trees stand still in the warm night full of fruit full of ancient prophecy.  Beloved Rabbi O' Lord you are like an olive at harvest time being pressed for precious oil "Gethsemane" the place of your "crushing" my "crushing" we are part of your "crushing" my spirit overflows with hate for my sins feel your heart being torn to pieces you mourn to the depth of your soul you weep for us a dying world praying to the Father to take this bitter cup from you O' Lord my spirit wonders as you washed the feet of the apostles who washed yours when you fed the multitude with bread and fish did you eat? you healed and you gave yourself away the passion in you becomes a purple mourning Beloved Rabbi I offer you sir a shoulder to cry on during this long night of loneliness in this vision of your grace and in awe of your love I will walk with you on your journey the way of "Via Dolorosa" the way of the cross.

Sister Diane Manning