The work of the priest
Before the throne of God above
I have a strong, a perfect plea. Charitie Lees Bancroft
Read Hebrews 8:1—6
I admit I do not naturally picture Jesus of Nazareth as a high priest. I see him as a layman. I do not see him in any regalia that would distinguish him from me. Yet every priest, and the Jewish high priest, is, as far as his priesthood goes, a picture, a suggestion, a hint, at best a promise of Jesus. The picture I sit with now from this reading is probably not one for which I need to imagine a temple in Jerusalem, a holy of holies separated from me by a heavy curtain, the high priest having disappeared behind it, lost to my view. The picture that comes to me is this: the Son in the Father’s house.[1] They share intimately, fondly with familiarity. As I listen, I find that I am included in the conversation. I am welcomed. In fact, Jesus will not be there without me. I know it sounds self-centred, but it seems to be that they are taking about me and I am meant to hear it.
[1] John 14:2
Prayer
Dear Father, I thank you that the Son, my Saviour, crucified for me, risen for me and for the world, my Lord and my Friend, is always in your presence. My name is graven on his hands. He bears the marks of my sins forgiven. I thank you that your house is no small, confined space, but that it opens out into the place of great freedom, the fullness of all things restored to their true glory. It is a place of joy. It is a place large enough to include the little room in which I lie down to rest tonight.