Tuesday Itch

"Now the men who were holding Jesus mocked him and beat him; the also blindfolded him and asked;'prophesy! Who is it that struck you?'" Luke 22: 63-64

I am covered in mosquito bites. After visiting my mother this weekend and doing the Sunday services at St. Peter's by the Sea in Cape May Point, we enjoyed an afternoon of cool water and warm sand. It was restful, well, restful until the bugs got bad. Now my mother claims that she never gets bitten. She says she has some kind of Indian skin that is distasteful to the mosquitoes. I, on the other hand, seem to be prime feasting meat for the hungry predators. The want my blood, it seems like the most tempting, desirable meal for them. We cover ourselves in bug spray as we go outside, and still, I get eaten alive. Something about Tuesday, the itch really gets to me by this time. I want to scratch those pesky bites even though I know better.

Jesus is pestered and beaten within inches of his like by predatory men, people trained to torture and abuse. They wanted to shame and mock him, the one who brought love and healing to so many. They wanted blood, and nothing else would satisfy them.


Today, while I ponder ways to satisfy the itch without really scratching or breaking skin, I want to remember all those people around me who are doing their best to live the gospel and are set upon by all sorts of predators. The little mosquitoes of mine are really nothing. Their suffering is very real. May we remember all those who are risking their lives to bring love and healing to a fractured world in the most broken places. And may we offer the little bit of solace and support we might have to their health and support. In all times there are those who are out for blood. May we be those who share Christ's blood for the renewal and healing of the world.