I have found myself thinking a lot about the characters that are at the fringes of the Passion Story this week.

I wonder what it was like to be the owner of the colt Jesus’ disciples ‘appropriated’ on that first Palm Sunday?

How about the guy who carries a jar of water only to be followed down alley and street to an upper room by another couple from Jesus’ followers?  How about the man who seems to be holding a large upper room for Jesus and his people to celebrate the Passover when there must have been ample opportunities to rent it out?

Doesn’t it strike you as just a bit odd that Jesus couldn’t find a proper place to be born into this world, but as he approached fulfilling his role as the Crucified God it seems he had a standing reservation that he didn’t have to make?

Women on the road.  The soldiers. The people in the high priests’ court. The crowd. Barabbas.  All of them had stories to tell after the events of the first Good Friday.

As much as I’ve reflected on them my attention always seems to be returning to Simon of Cyrene today.  An out of towner making what might have been the trip of a lifetime to celebrate the Passover in Jerusalem.  A Jew of the Diaspora of Northern Africa who was likely a man of the fields.

Standing there, minding his own business as the story starts…….And then he’s thrust to center stage and swept up in a story that he didn’t bargain for, but changed his life forever.

Maybe we’re all Simon in one way or another, those of us who dare to call ourselves ‘Christian’.  Part of the life of discipleship is to recognize that the cross we take up each day we take up on behalf of the one who paid the ultimate price and paid it in full for us all.

Apparently even Jesus, the only Son of God, needed the help of a stranger from time to time.  So do we.  So does everyone else.  Maybe we need to look back now and again and understand that there have been times when we’ve been called out of the crowd like one Simon, from way out in the sticks.

What has been our response?

Have we allowed ourselves to be changed by the experience?

Do we dare go there again?

I offer you this poem for reflection, thanks to Nathan Harms of “Utmost Christian Writers”

Simon of Cyrene by Nathan Harms

A certain man from Cyrene, Simon, the father of Alexander and Rufus, was passing by on his way in from the country, and they forced him to carry the cross. Mark 15:21

One afternoon you’re wandering
—lost among strange streets—
when a cross lands on your shoulders.
You’re a broad-shouldered plowman
in from the fields for a week
and soldiers with spears
say you’re up to the task.
The sun shines only on you
but you wish you’d stayed at home.

When you’ve climbed the hill
where they’ll plant the cross
they strip it from you
seed it with nails
and water it with a man.
You straighten your spine
to join the crowd
but all that light still shines on you.
The stem falls into the hole
and a man cries out.
Thunder sighs. Then it rains.

There are conversations on every hand
but you hear the one between two crosses:
Remember Me!
In paradise!
One afternoon you’re wandering
—lost among strange streets—
but the next thing you know
you’re in the right place.

Copyright©2007 by Nathan Harms