For the first thirty years of his life, Jesus quietly observed the Passover, the most important holiday in his religion. Along with hundreds and thousands of fellow Jews, Jesus made the yearly pilgrimage to the Temple in Jerusalem.
This time it would be Jesus’ last trip to the great city. This time Jesus was not going to go quietly. First of all, he instructed his disciples to find him a donkey and a colt. As a sign of peace, he majestically rode the humble animal into the gate of Jerusalem. Seeing Jesus on a donkey alerted the Jews of an ancient prophecy, and as words traveled quickly, the crowd grew until “the whole city was thrown into an uproar.” (Matthew 21:10) It was a parade no one could miss. Fine garments and palm branches lined the streets; praises and songs rang out from the hearts of men, women, and children. The noise was deafening. It was chaos, yet it was a joyous kind of chaos. But for the Roman authority, they only smelled fear. Immediately it raised the security alert to Severe. An uprising was imminent. They were on Jesus’ tail, getting ready to rain on his big parade.
It was a day that would forever remind Jesus of who he was becoming in the eyes of the people. These folks believed. They believed that he was the anointed one. Like Moses and David, he was the guy that was going to deliver them from political oppression.
What did Jesus do that evening? Did he become delirious and self-absorbed from his fame? Did he check into the most expensive hotel in town, or accept an invitation to dine in the finest restaurant? Jesus was relatively young – he was just a little over 30 years old, but he was firmly grounded. A firmly grounded person knows where he needs to be at the height of his career.
Jesus disappeared that night. Before dusk, he and his company of twelve evaded the crowd and trudged through a dirt road for two miles on foot to a nearby town called Bethany. This was after a very long, exhausting day, yet Jesus had much to look forward to. He was eager to see his closest friends who were going to host him and his twelve buddies in the comfort of their spacious farmhouse. These hungry and weary men could almost smell Martha’s freshly baked bread, and that they would soon meet Mary, a sweet girl whose presence would light up a room. And it would be so good to see Lazarus, a dead man that walked. He was Jesus’ miracle that was still breathing. Maybe they would reminisce and laugh about all the craziness of living life with Jesus.
Who in our days and age could accommodate thirteen grown men and satisfy their appetites? Who would keep thirteen extra sets of pillows and blankets? Plus thirteen wash towels to wipe the grimy feet of these travelers?
I booked my first Air B&B last week. I heard a lot about this new internet phenomenon but was too skeptical and too cautious to actually try it. But our family of five could no longer fit properly on two double beds in a standard hotel room. (We used to have our three kids sleep sideways, side by side, on a twin or double bed.) Booking two hotel rooms not only will double our cost, but there is also no guarantee we will get two adjacent, connecting rooms. We really need a home away from home, with beds for each one of us, and plenty of linens and towels. What I discovered from browsing through Air B&B is a whole world of people that simply love to host and share their homes with out-of-town travelers. It’s eye-opening.
Ironically though, Jesus’ very pregnant mother couldn’t find a decent place to spend a night. She ended up sleeping in a filthy barn with her little family. Thirty years later, her son along with his twelve friends would be able to stay in the best Bed & Breakfast in town, free of charge, during the busiest travel season.
More than a B&B, Mary, Martha, and Lazarus of Bethany gave Jesus a home away from home as his last dwelling place on earth.
“The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others.” (Gandhi)