Every Friday, in my devotional, I remember our Lord’s crucifixion, and rotate reading these accounts in Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. The Gospels describe facts on every day, except Wednesday of Passion or Holy Week. Hence:

Wednesday 33 AD


Between the pageantry of psalms,

And washing of disciples’ feet—

Cursing of the fruitless fig tree—

Betrayer slinking through a street—


Nothing is known. Nothing is known

Of this spring day. Where did He teach?

On temple steps? On Olive’s slopes?

Warnings to heed? Figures of speech?


How could they know, what was to come?

That soldiers would gamble with dice?

No Spirit would soothe His parched lips?

This Son of Man, God’s sacrifice?