The crowd has been swelling for hours, little knots of people converse eagerly. Young mothers swap stories of Jesus of Nazareth’s big heart for their kids. He’s so unlike the rest of the religious teachers who sport a high and mighty attitude toward the common folks. Roman soldiers watch with wary eye from the edges of the crowd, curious what this is all about. The sick pick their way through the pressing sea of bodies—desperate to get close to the teacher. Religious leaders in respect-demanding attire converse earnestly—guessing as to what wild ideas this wandering teacher might feed the people today. Field workers. Tired travelers. Ambitious youth. All gathering. As they do, a deep sense of anticipation gains momentum as dreams of a better tomorrow give birth to words of hope. Will he announce his monarchy today? Will he declare an end to Roman dominance? Will he end hunger? Will he establish justice? Similar aspirations have echoed down the centuries. We, too, have dreams. Dreams of a better tomorrow. Dreams of enough. Dreams of peace. Dreams of victory. Dreams of healing. Dreams of a new world. And we wait. Just what might this Teacher say?
