One in the Crowd

The pattern of my 'quiet time' each morning is to read the scriptures aloud, even though I'm alone, just as I would if I were at the lectern in church.  I read the notes that I follow day by day - presently I'm using Scripture Union's 'Daily Bread' - and then move into prayer, prompted by the Word I've just read, by one or more of a sequence of topics from mission organisations, and by what is going on in the world, in my friends' lives and in my own.

Now, when I read in church, I try to vary my voice according to what I'm reading, adding pauses where I feel they are appropriate, so as to make the listening experience of others as effective as possible in conveying God's word into their hearts.  I'm no actor, but sometimes I find myself injecting emotion into the record of spoken words, as if I were saying them in the event, as it were.  I remember being so involved on one occasion that I completely forgot the liturgical doxology that I was supposed to say at the end of the reading, and simply returned to my seat with my eyes full of tears.

This week I've been reading from Matthew, chapter 26, in the run-up to Holy Week and Easter.  As I've said, I read the same at home as I do in church.  So this morning, as Jesus finally broke his silence before Caiaphas (v. 64), I spoke His words in a matter-of-fact tone, gradually increasing in intensity.  But when it came to the high priest's response and the ensuing assault and ridicule (vv. 65-68), these were delivered with a contempt and venom that quite scared me.

How is it, I wondered, that the emotion for these insults, that condemnation, comes forth so readily?  I concluded, in prayer, that it's simply human nature coming to the surface.  It's able to do so in the safe and controlled environment of my lounge, in a way that normally would be suppressed by our culture and surroundings.  Surely it is this that is the basis of what we term 'crowd mentality'.

I found myself thinking about my own behaviour in a crowd.  Suppose, for example, I had been in the streets of Aleppo, or Kiev, amongst a crowd of people of like mind to myself.  Would I have dared to speak out against those who sought violence?  Would I have said, "Come on, now, there's a better way of dealing with these demands."?  Or would I have joined in the shouting and the fighting, hitting out and throwing stones and Molotov cocktails along with everyone else?  I think I know the answer and, along with the emotions expressed in that reading this morning, . . . it scares me!

Father God, this week we commemorate Jesus' act of sacrifice that paid the price for the sins of each one of us.  Help me to bring my hatred and violence to the foot of the cross, and leave them there along with the rest of my sins. Give me strength, I pray, to stand up for the oppressed, and the hungry in our world, without resorting to force to express my feelings and get my point across.  Amen.