Jerusalem Revisited

Mark was finally reaching home after an all day drive from Phoenix to the California coast. Although his company owned three airplanes, including one which was capable of going anywhere in the world, he preferred to drive himself on trips less than five hundred miles. On the trip out it was relaxing to be away by himself, to get mentally geared up for the upcoming event, and on the return trip to relax and critique what had transpired. It had been a long hard day on top of five hard days. He had been running a week long corporate sales and operations meeting in Phoenix. He was the CEO and sole owner of a company of various business interests, that had worldwide branches and subsidiaries. The top officers or managers of each were present. They represented many nationalities and many languages. All meetings were conducted in English. Being fluent in English was a requirement to become an executive at any level, but they often reverted to their native tongue when talking among themselves. It was a “Tower of Babel" when the official meeting was not in session. Mark had made it his standard procedure to personally have a private conversation with each one at this, the annual meeting. It was an extremely exhausting undertaking.

It was dark when Mark turned into the long driveway to his home overlooking the Pacific Ocean south of the Newport Beach area of Orange County, California. He clicked the garage door opener as he entered the driveway so that the door was open when he arrived. He left everything in the car, including his clothes. He was very weary.  He entered the house through the kitchen and started turning on lights. He was all alone. He had a house keeper who came in to clean and maintain the house Monday through Friday, but this being Saturday, even she would not be here. The large house had living quarters for servants, but he did not want to sacrifice his privacy unnecessarily. He really did not want or need twenty four hour attention. Besides he did not want to get further involved with the many government regulations and irritations that come to those hiring live in household help.

He was still a bachelor in his early thirties. It was not that he was unattractive to women. In fact he was a pleasant looking man and attracted interested eye contact from women where ever he went. The women he did date, had quickly cooled off when the reality of a lasting commitment exposed them to the truth that he would be gone from home, more than he would be at home They reluctantly decided that this very eligible bachelor was not good husband material even though he was an attractive and a rich man, with a very nice home. In fact he had designed the home as a place to bring a future bride. It was very much a home that needed a wife.

He stopped by to grab a can of beer from the refrigerator, which he popped open on his way to his home office. Settling back on the settee in his office, he flipped through the stack of mail that his housekeeper had thoughtfully sorted into piles as she perceived their importance to him. He ignored the phone answering machine which was blinking. Seeing nothing of interest to do in the office, he sat back and enjoyed the relaxed feeling that comes from a can of cold beer at the end of a hard day. He wandered back into the kitchen to discard the empty can. He was not hungry, as he had stopped in Riverside for a quick supper. Mark was so groggy and beaten, that he did not even feel like a second can of beer. He went to his bedroom, where he showered and put on fresh boxers to sleep in.

Mark usually attended mass on Saturday night so that he could sleep in on Sunday mornings. It was much too late for that. Tomorrow was Palm Sunday, his favorite, since as long as he could remember, even as a child. This celebration always filled him with awe, to think that the creator of the whole of consciousness, would take the trouble to be concerned about the reasonably intelligent creatures on a very minor planet. To physically become part of them for just an instant, to point those grossly inferior beings in the right direction, seemed to culminate in his entry into Jerusalem riding on a simple donkey, where the acceptance of him as king was joyfully demonstrated. He always fantasized about how it would be to actually see it in person. He turned off the lights, and completely exhausted, Mark flopped into bed, closed his eyes, and soon was fast asleep.

…  Mark found himself outside, but in a semi rural area just at the outskirts of a large town. “What in the world am I doing outside and only in my shorts!,” he mumbled incredibly to himself, “Why here, wherever here is?"

He noticed. a group a of people moving toward the town and speaking a strange language, but one which he fully understood. Most of the men were dressed in robes of various styles and colors, with some in turbans and other unusual headgear. The women were in floor length dresses with their heads covered with shawls. They were well dressed and looked as though they were taking part in some kind of festival.

The men who were bareheaded wore their hair much as Mark’s hair was styled, and many were clean shaven.