In My Mind's Eye - It is Enough

I watch in quiet awe as Miriam settles our children into my brother’s modest and crowded home.  She prepares a bedroll for Eran and Tamir as they eagerly follow their older cousins around the small yard.  How they have the energy after walking the better part of 3 hours is beyond me!  Ilana, just going on 2, is drowsy and ready for a nap.  She will bunk with us tonight.  How weary Miriam must be.  I know I am certainly feeling tired after all the preparations and the actual journey itself.  We were both up before the sun and now the heat of the day is sapping what’s left of our energy.

Upon our arrival, my brother graciously helped unload and tether the donkey out back. Our trusty donkey wasn’t so sure it wanted to leave the farm earlier today, but it handled the trip very well in the end, patiently waiting while the boys took turns riding to rest their legs.  Miriam and I alternated leading the donkey and carrying Ilana.

We brought what we could to help with meals for the week.  Our farm on the outskirts of Emmaus hasn’t had much rain this past month, and has therefore not yielded as much produce as usual, but it is important for us to feel we are contributing in some way.  We are so grateful to have family to stay with.  It seems like the walls of every home are expanding to swallow extra people this week.  The entire city has to somehow absorb 5 times its normal population.  

Despite my fatigue, I feel a tinge of excitement too, for we have made this trip to Jerusalem for Passover.  Before leaving, I sold our best lamb to have money to buy one here to offer as a sacrifice at the temple.  I didn’t think our lamb would weather the trip well and I wanted to be sure to have an unblemished and healthy animal to offer.  

Once we have shared a meal together, my brother and I head to the temple to check things out.   I don’t much like being jostled and elbowed, but it is inevitable.  Even the side street short cuts are packed.  We manage to weave our way through the crowds, some people stopping short in the middle of the path, having unexpectedly come across old friends. 

By the time we eventually arrive at our destination, I am feeling a bit claustrophobic.  I struggle to move closer to the sellers, trying to get a sense of how much a lamb will cost here.  Sellers are shouting over the din, trying to attract pilgrims to their stalls.  I know from previous years that prices are driven up by demand during Passover.  However, I am shocked to discover that the amount I sold my choicest lamb for at home will not come close to getting me another one here.  I will be forced to offer a simple dove, rather than the beautiful lamb I had imagined.  It is not the sacrifice I wanted to give.  Disheartened, we head back to the house.

I sleep fitfully, as is common I suppose when not in one’s own surroundings.  As we gather to enjoy warm bread and dates at the beginning of the day, I try to bolster myself for returning to the chaotic scene at the temple.  I try to sort out why it bothers me so much that I will have no lamb to give.  Is it pride?  That may be part of it.  But there is more. It is my heart’s desire to honour God in a generous and beautiful way.  

After the morning meal, we weave our way back to the temple.  Something is different today.  There is a distinct buzz in the crowd.  From snippets of conversation we overhear as we push forward, we have just missed a big commotion in the temple courts.  Curious, we push on.  As we reach the temple, a man exits, closely followed by several companions and an expanding crowd.  He is walking with purpose and the throng divides as he approaches.  As He nears us, we make eye contact.  His eyes are fierce and bright, yet there is a sadness there too.  He slows His steps, still looking straight at me.  

“It is not the expense of the sacrifice that matters to God”, he says in a confident and steady voice.  “It is the heart behind it.” 

I don’t know what it is about Him, but His demeanor, His words, and our connection…they unravel me.  No longer feeling the crush of the crowd, no longer resenting the change in plans for my sacrifice, I am flooded with a sense of tranquility.  

As he and his group retreat from the temple area, I slowly gather myself and follow my brother to the vendors.  What a scene greets us!  Money changers are busy uprighting their tables, scrambling to collect coins that have been flung far and wide.  Merchants are occupied rounding up stray animals and stacking broken crates that have released their doves.  In the midst of all this activity, it is oddly quiet.  It is as if everyone is going through the motions with the clean up but at the same time deeply distracted by their thoughts.  

My brother and I gingerly wander through the mess until we find a vendor who still has some doves.  As I offer payment, I find I am not discouraged and sad about my offering anymore.  I feel satisfied and confident after my interaction with that man outside the temple.  It’s as if He actually knew my heart, and understood my desire to please God and He told me… it is enough.