One Week, Part 2

One Week, Part 2
4/7/2021 8:28:00 PM by: Susan Lyttek

You didn’t mean to, but somehow you wound up following the Council members to a newly hewn tomb. It smelled cool, like fresh stone and mud. You offered the two of them a hand and silently acknowledging you, they took it. It was such a shame that your first close encounter with this prophet was after he was dead.

As badly as his body was damaged, you had to swallow to keep from vomiting on multiple occasions. Thankfully, the smell of the tomb itself and the spices the man had on him camouflaged the smell. But nothing other than the linens could hide how the skin and flesh hung to the corpse by mere strips in places. How had the man born it as long as he did?

The one who called himself Joseph said you had done as much as you could do. “It will take a while to gather enough spices and cloths to treat him properly. Time that we don’t have since the sun will go down shortly.” You nodded and left the tomb. But you couldn’t bring yourself to go far. You’d been with a dead body. You’d be unclean anyway. There was no hurry.

Soldiers came and brought with them an immense stone nearly a man and a half high and almost as thick. It shook the ground as they rolled it towards the tomb. It took nearly half a manipulus to organize and direct the boulder. In the distance you saw the High Priest’s henchmen. Of course. It didn’t make sense that Rome would go to all this effort for one Jewish prophet. The religious hierarchy though…

You stood there staring at the stone until the light faded so you could no longer make out where the stone ended and where the hillside began. It was the Sabbath. Strange, you thought. It didn’t feel like the Sabbath. There was no rest in this day. With nothing else to do, you made your way back to where your family was staying.

They asked you about where you had been and what you had done. All you could say was that you weren’t clean. You couldn’t go to the Temple. No amount of washing or prayers or sacrifices would ever make you feel clean again. You had watched a man, an innocent man you are now convinced, though you’re not sure how, die brutally. And you did nothing other than watch. Worse, you were in the crowd that called for it.

How would you ever atone? How in God’s creation could you make this right?

Your family checked in on you throughout the Sabbath. But you didn’t worship with them. You couldn’t. It was as if the ability to worship had been wrenched right out of you.

You didn’t intend to fast, but that was what happened. And you couldn’t sleep either. You kept seeing him up there, bleeding. You kept hearing more of his words that you hadn’t noticed while he hung there. Had he really forgiven that thief? Then maybe, just maybe, he could forgive you too.

Before dawn broke, you were out of the lodging and walking. You knew you would wind up at the tomb. Your feet just kind of propelled you that way. As dawn was just clearing the Temple mount, you caught a glimpse of the tomb area. The stone was moved off to the side! And you saw something, or was it someone, glowing on the top.

You ran the last bit downhill to the tomb. Coming from the other direction was a group of women. You didn’t want to scare them so you ducked behind a tree and just watched. The ladies were carrying a variety of packages that you imagined were spices. You would have brought some if you had thought of it. You barely thought of anything other than feeling sorry for yourself.

The ladies saw the rock and then the shining thing spoke! You couldn’t make out the words, but it made the air shake. Was it an angel? Its message excited the ladies. All but one ran past your hiding place shouting, “He is alive!”

Alive? You had seen the body. That was nonsense. No one could be alive after that.

Still, their enthusiasm made a bit of something start to flutter within you. Was that hope?

You turned your focus back on the one woman that remained. She walked through the garden and among the plants, crying. Sometimes she looked back at the tomb, sometimes she looked at the sky, sometimes she stared off into nothingness.

A man appeared in front of her. You had never seen the like. One moment she was alone and the next he stood in front of her. But who was he? Why did he look familiar?

You edged closer. You heard her shout “Rabboni!” and lunge toward the man. Rabboni? The woman was one of Jesus’ followers. There was only one person she would have called that name.

She ran off, too, joy filling her steps. You were confused.

“I know you’re there,” said the man. “Do you want to see the nail prints in my hands?”

He walked right up to your hiding place.

“Jesus?” He certainly looked the Jesus you had seen a week ago on the donkey. But then even more like the man.

He smiled. “I forgive you.”

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