The lull before ....

The cock's merry crowing woke me this morning. I love the song that rooster belts out in the dim light of the morning sunrise. I really do. I can't think of anything that would make me not love it.

The aromatic olive-tree smoke curled into bare figurines above the spent camp fire of the evening. Amazingly, Jesus told us to take the day off, aside from taking care of the various details from tomorrow's coming Seder.

Judas returned late last night, so we are 12 again in Bethany. We did not see Simon the Leper's family last night as we prepared for bed. Jesus said we would be busy tomorrow, so we should take some time for ourselves, much as he does constantly. We did not, however, go onto the mountainside. We simply walked away to a spot of quiet. Or most of us did. Those Zebedee brothers don't know much about contemplation.

Me? I thought about some of the teaching of the Master. He was talking, a few days back, about a Psalm of David. It's amazing. When he teaches, he does so with such authority it is like he wrote the Psalm or something.

He was using David's writings from what I believe is the 119th psalm. I don't recall it all, as Jesus would, but I remember bits and pieces. He taught beside the lake on a grand and glorious afternoon. The temperature was moderate. The wind was a friend, spinning the flowers into dancing ladies.

I delight in your decrees; I will not neglect your word, he said.

He quoted or paraphrased more.

My soul is consumed with longing for your laws at all times. Your statutes are my delight; they are my counselors.

Direct me in the path or your commands, for there I find delight. I will walk about in freedom, for I have sought out your precepts.

For I delight in your commands because I love them. Your decrees are the theme of my song wherever I lodge.

You are good, and what you do is good; teach me your decrees.

I'm a fisherman by trade. I have no formal training in the temple. I am no priest. I am no Levite. I am nothing in the long run but someone who's skin is as leather from the ever-present sun, and whose lineage would not bring me great privilege.

I'm simply someone the Rabbi called, for reasons I'm not sure, still.

But I love hearing him teach that the Word, as he calls it, is so vital one can love being told what to do. I anticipate the Seder with great relish. What a wonderful week this must be.