Flesh and More
27
27.1
The sun was upset that day. It was difficult for the rest of the solar system to understand why. It was understood that the sun was tight-lipped. He wasn't one to talk about his feelings or share the comings and goings of his mind. If they could have looked into eyes that day without going blind, they might have realized that he was unhappy with the events on the third planet. A handful of humans were traipsing about in the dust and the sand, mumbling about a criminal. The sun could feel the spots on his belly widen and get darker. Someone was going to be put to death, and all the sun could do was stare.
27.2
This is the last thing I want to do today. It is the last thing I would want to do on any day. In fact, if it were my last day on earth I would still rather find a way to do anything else besides this “thing” that was in front of me.. Being a prefect has privileges. I have power. My orders must be followed or men die. My authority comes directly from the emperor. And his power was the law. These laws govern my city and the whole empire. I am as bound to them as this man who stands before me trembling. I am a slave to the law. And now his people tell me that he must die. Do I want him dead? I want him gone. Do I want to kill him? His birth and death will not leave a single pen stroke in the codex of history, but his presence in this city is disruptive, I will admit. His people feel that he must die. So I must hear them. And I will hear him. He will speak to me. That is the law.
Today the sun is angry, I think. I might melt waiting for this ordeal to end.
2.3 - 2.5
When I was a boy, I remember that my next door neighbor's uncle died suddenly. There was much talk in my village about his death. He was skilled at making shoes and was valued by everyone because of this. I remember that he was quiet but often kind to me. Kind to my sister as well. He and his wife had no children. There was always a movement within the community to include him in the things that we did. If there was a meal for Purim or Passover, he was always invited. You see it was because of his wife. She was ill. My mother once told my father that the wife heard voices. I didn't understand. I hear voices. People talk in the village all the time. You can hear people talking even when you are trying to sleep at night. It wasn't until I was much older that I understood what she meant. There were spirits that operated inside of her that her husband could not fix in the way that he could fix a sandal. There was no leather strap that would hold her together. They say this is why they didn't have children. I say it was God. God protected them. Hashem kept them safe because the few times that I encountered his wife I definitely did not feel safe. She was snarling at me like a dog. In fact I think a dog would have been afraid of her. Maybe a lion could stand up to her, but I'm not certain. I remember thinking as a boy that she was a demon. A witch. And I felt for the cobbler. I felt horrible for his life. He would come to Shabbos on some Friday nights, but over the years he came less and less. His wife was worse. She was difficult to deal with. Some say she slept with restraints at night. Otherwise she might crawl through the town and terrify us all. And then there was that dreadful day that someone had murdered her. My father said there had been a struggle in their home. A criminal had entered and she was confused. She attacked him, and he was much stronger and he killed her. The Romans eventually caught him, and he was put to death for his crime. But the cobbler was never the same. You would have thought that he would approach Temple with a smaller burden, but his wife's murder actually seemed to make him shrink. His business doubled as people flocked to his store to help support him. Everything else about him crumbled. Years went by, but I never forgot his fondness and kindness when my sister and I were little. That's why it was so awful to hear the second tragedy that struck his home. He had hung himself. The women of the village would often gossip and cackle about the tragedies of our community but for him they did not. This business was private and it stayed that way. I have always understood how the burdens of life can sometimes do much to keep us alive. This does not seem true for me today. It is so many years after his death, and I am now at the lowest point in my own life. I feel I am shrinking, too. I stand here with these silver pieces in my hand. I look down at them and think of how each piece could represent a moment when the cobbler stopped working at his shop and he looked over at me and gave me a smile. It was a warm embrace without even a single movement towards me. This man had a heart to rival the sun. It burned bright for everyone but brightest of all for his wife. I think that when she was gone, he lost his reason to live. I understand that. I had a reason to live and these silver pieces are not it. I was paid to do what had to be done, and still I stand here and think of the cobbler and the tree behind his house. How many times did he toss the rope before it crossed a strong limb? He was sturdy from his job. He must have tossed the rope high. I have a rope. And there are trees everywhere. I am the cobbler today. But there will be no little boy to remember me smiling at him on a hot summer day. No one will remember me. I have not yet lost the love of my life but soon we all will.
27.6 - 26.7
"This is blood money. This money might as well have been soaked in blood. I will wash my hands in the river after I have rid myself of this blood. We cannot return this money to the coffers. It should be buried like the dead. Because this money is dead. It is the death of he who would be the son of God."
And a small group of priests took the silver pieces to the graveyard where the people of this community would bury the strangers amongst them.
27.8 - 27.10
The day was hot as the two brothers worked together in Potter's field. “For whom are we digging this hole my brother?” “We dig it for the traitor.” “And what made him a traitor?” “He sold his brother.” “And for how much did he sell him?” “30 pieces of silver.” “30 pieces of silver?” “Yes.” “How much could I get for you?” And then the two laughed and kept digging.
And when the pieces of silver melted they became blood and soaked the earth where Judas was buried. And the graveyard for strangers became forever known as the field of blood.
27.11 - 27.13
The tree that held the traitor was incensed to be his gallows. Long ago it had been a tree that caused the death of everyone. But that tree was innocent. He wasn't sure if he was. Was it his relative who provided the wood that would become the cross that meant the death of this man who was standing before the governor, his lips sealed tightly like bark? How much were trees responsible? What role did they play in this savagery? He would have rather have been chopped down and turned to kindling than to have that strange fruit hanging from his limbs. The traitor. The Judas. He was relieved when they cut him down. And now he was helpless to help the man who had helped so many. He could have been made into a weapon. He could have been turned into a hammer or a spear. But now he was a witness as the young teacher refused to respond to the questions about his being king of the Jews.
27.14
I am a slave to the law, but this man is a slave to no one. That must be the very definition of a king. If he were to answer my questions, it would open so many troubles for him and for his people. They're not subjects. They are his students. He does not claim to be a king. That’s the accusation of his enemies. He is a teacher. But could there be a better king than one who would face his death rather than admit his monarchy? I am not a king or an emperor. I have my power in Jerusalem, but my power has limits. I would not trade this small power for anything on Earth or in his heaven. I would not let it be taken from me either. I would fight to the death. This man's kingdom is his body. His mind. He is unlocking the prisons of his people with words. That is a power, too. And here I am pretending to pass judgment. Playing the part of the governor to this man. I am not his governor. I am not his law. His words are his law. He says his words come from God. I don't believe in their God. I've never been impressed by their God. But whoever is the God of this man is an impressive being. That much I can say. He would give this man to the earth and the very people that he teaches would sacrifice him. I cannot say what others will think of this but I know that I am moved. I do not know what history will make of him, but I'm sure I know what it will make of me. When I wash my hands of this, there won't be enough water out in any river to clean his blood from me.
27.15
I could not answer him. I I could not bring myself to answer to someone who would pretend to be my law. I answer to only one law. I have only one king. I am bound not by these restraints that have been placed upon me here on earth but by my love and devotion to my father. And through Him I have been taught to love all. Even those who jail me. Even those who would murder me. Even Judas. The true chains that bind me stretch a long way, but they are the same chains that will one day lift me up to heaven. I am not afraid of death, but I am afraid of those who will die around me. These misguided souls are wicked and lost. And I fear that when they take me and determine my fate I will not be here to protect them. As you eat your meals unprotected from sin, you can send me to the wolves. Even wolves deserve nourishment. Even the wolves will taste their salvation.
27.16 - 27.18
I have been a bad man. I have committed murder. I have taken the life of people who had not harmed me but simply stood in the way of my goals. I have been a rebel. I have fought the state. I have done these things in the name of good, but still I broke the laws. And now here I am imprisoned and waiting to be murdered. My father was a teacher. We are the children of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. We have always lived a simple life. But my people have not been treated fairly. And the laws were not fair to us. I felt it was my duty to stand up and to use my strength and my ability to fight injustice even if it meant my death. I am not a scholar like my father. I did not sit long at his feet listening to his lessons. I thought of David though. That was the one lesson I heard. My father tried to fill my head with information. He was a good man, but he had the wrong son. Well I did not waste my time trying to fill the heads of my three sons. No. I will filled their hearts. I dragged them with me into battle. We stood up to tyranny. We stood up to the monsters who would deny us thousands of years of tradition. For the love of the one God and not the many. And now I am jailed. I fought and killed and my message was there. All three boys are dead. They fought bravely, and I am not sad about their deaths. I only wish that I had died with them on the field, but I was taken without a choice. And now the governor participates in a Passover meal. And these people here are angry. I cannot imagine they are angry at me because they hate the laws as well. I know for some I'm a hero. For others I'm an enigma. And for the old I a menace. But I can live with that because I was fighting for all of them. For all of us. And I will go to my death with my head high for as long as it sits on my shoulders.
27.19
There is a line that travels from me directly to the emperor. And everywhere in between there are people who would tell me what to do. I have many masters. Here amongst these people I have power, but as I travel down that line my power diminishes quickly. In addition to the line that ties me to Rome, there is a circle that surrounds me here. It surrounds my heart and home. And if I tell the truth, it's the circle that truly leads my life. She has been my wife since she was a teenager. We have several children who live here and they live well. They are the children of the governor. And they have privileges far greater than any Hebrew child in this City. But the wife of the governor has one privilege that no one else has. She has the ear of the governor. And she has been using that ear and twisting it and pulling it and tormenting it now for days. She tells me she's had dreams. She speaks of Jesus, the would-be king of the Jews. It's annoying. I am consumed by the line and the laws that give that line life, but she would have me abandon this Jesus. She's told me that she's had nightmares about him. She believes these nightmares are proof that Jesus is innocent. Now my wife is no idiot, and she understands the political situation. When the priests come to me and tell me they want Jesus to die, I don't have a choice but to let that happen. And I can put on the show of interrogating the man in front of the crowd, but his fate is sealed. She knows this. She's not asking me to free him. She wants me to free myself of him. She doesn't want me to be the one to sentence this man to death. As always, she's right. She is a loving wife, and she might be the actual governor of this city. I look at her and I can see the faces of our children in hers. I do hope that they grow to be just like their mother and that the only thing they inherit from me is my name.
Mark 27.20 - 27.21
I have heard of this rebel, Jesus. Of course. From Galilee. He came into the temple and made quite a mess. I was impressed when I heard that story. Sounds like the kind of thing I would want to do. Of course he didn't kill anyone. However I still admire his courage. And so we are both here now. When I realized that the two of us had been brought before the crowd, I thought for sure my fate was sealed. They would not want to bring me back. I would simply cause trouble again. And this Jesus was a peaceful and loving teacher. Why would they kill him? But I was wrong. There are those in the crowd that fear Jesus. They hate him. I am surprised because the man is thin and does not look like he knows how to defend himself. And yet as I look him over, he stands stiff and still like a spear. It looks like he could do damage. He looks like he could do more damage than my sword ever did. It's a powerful thought. Could I fight the battles that I need to fight without a weapon made from steel? Did my three boys die for no reason? Could we have claimed victory without blood? Could I follow a path similar to Jesus? We wound up in the same place. Both condemned to die. If I leave this Earth a murderer, who would follow me? He leaves this earth a martyr. It's possible the whole world would follow him. As these thoughts spin through my brain the crowd has spoken. Pilate is finished. The murderers are unnamed. And Jesus will die. I am saved.
I am saved.
27.22 - 27.23
It is a job. We live in a time when my job is necessary. I do my job. I cut the wood and turn it into crosses. There is all manner of crucifixion. Many different styles. Whatever it is that I'm asked to build, I do. All around the city I see my handiwork. I see the dead like ornaments hanging from the things that I have made. It is not for me to judge whether or not this punishment is good or barbaric. Killing others is not something that I would ever decide should be done. I am not the law. I am not the judge. I am a carpenter. I once made cribs and tables and windows for homes. But somehow I was tasked to make the crucifixes. My children have to eat. We need a home. These deadly instruments that I make mean security for my family. Such a paradox. And no matter how long it takes a man to die on one of my crucifixes, he always does. And I am never without something to keep me employed.
27.24 - 27.26
I could see my father. He had moved forward in the crowd but he was close enough that his face was clear to me. I could not describe what his face looked like, but it disturbed me. I had never seen him look that way. He looked as if he had seen something ghastly. There was a layer of horror that had spread across him. At one point he covered his ears. The crowd was chanting. But as I looked around I didn't see anger. To hear the crowd you would have thought that they were angry, but to see them they looked full of sorrow. Full of pain. That's what I felt. I felt pain, and I didn't know why. Something horrible was happening. We were being forced something. And the crowd was calling for it. They were calling for his blood. I heard that clearly. But at that moment I didn't understand why. Did they want him to die? Were they calling for his death? When I looked into the faces of the people I knew, I did not see that. I did not see bloodlust. I saw grief. I saw genuine grief. And because of what I saw, I felt it myself. I could not see above the crowd, but I knew that the preacher was up there. The young man whom they called Jesus. I heard him speak once. I thought he was mild and intelligent. He was compelling. He had quieted the whole crowd as he spoke. There had been such tension over his presence here in the city It felt as if the whole community would snap! And now that his death had been decided, there was the sense that we had been saved. And instead of breaking, we melted. We melted under the anger of the sun. And I didn't dare look up towards the sky because I was certain that the sun was angry at us. It was that type of heat. A punishing heat. The kind of heat that makes you believe that you had finally done something truly horrible. That you deserved to be burned alive.
27.26 - 27.27
I punish who they tell me to punish. The convicted are here for a reason. They are stand before death. They have done something to deserve it. I cannot consider the feelings of the man I might scourge. I use my flagrum carefully and wisely and fairly. I have a rhythm to it. I beat the man evenly. I make sure to hit the parts of his body that will most likely rip flesh from his bone. This is not meant to be comfortable. It’s punishment. This is to soften him before the crucifixion. Now comes the man, the one they call Jesus. I know nothing of Jesus. I know nothing of Jews. I am a soldier. I am paid by the emperor himself with coins that bear his face and name. And so this man who stands before me who has been accused of crimes will be punished just as any man would be. He is tied to the post, with his back exposed to me and to the sun. Take what you deserve, criminal. Feel the justice of the emperor. Feel the justice of my whip.
27.28 - 27.31
I have half the earth to warm and to light 24 hours a day, but today I'm finding it difficult to take my eyes away from this one city. He is there. I do not know his name, but I know he has significance. I know that the creator who made me and all the other stars in the sky has something to do with this human. I also know that this same creator has something to do with his death. But what I'm seeing is not death. Not yet. I'm seeing the cruelty of human beings. I am the master of this solar system, and the only planet where there is life is filled with nothing but brutality. I know when they are naked they are completely vulnerable to me, and I see him standing there naked. They drape him in some garish cloth and stick a thorny crown in his skull. He rains blood. And his shoulders and his chest are now covered blood. It's unreasonable to think that the other things in the universe don't have emotions. I know I do. And today I am glad that I get to be the sun. I am glad I get to be the hottest thing in this solar system. Because I am upset at this. I am mad that this man is being treated this way. I cannot burn the earth worse than I already do, but I am making sure that this city where these monsters live is as hot today as it has ever been. And should they melt into the earth, that would be no concern of mine. What do I care for them? From up here they look like worthless ants. Not even that. Ants don’t waste their lives staring at the sun. Ants don't burn that way. But these humans have no idea how to avoid their own deaths.
27.32 - 27.35
I had come to Jerusalem with my sons for the Passover celebration. We traveled from Cyrene. I knew this would be such a special trip with them. They had never been to Jerusalem, and it had been years since I was here. Where we come from there aren't as many of us, but our faith is still strong. But here in Jerusalem we are at the center. We are with the temple. The sounds of so many different languages spoken around us are exciting. For my two sons I could see this was a worthy trip. Their eyes were drinking it all in. And I was proud to be able to bring them here. This was not an inexpensive trip, I tell you, but I had worked hard and built a good career and home. My boys worked with me, but we also had many other workers. Taking this time away from our business was not easy but it was something we could afford. Rufus had run ahead because all three of us could hear cheering and shouting. Alexander stayed by my side. He was my youngest, but at this point he was actually taller than I am. They were both tall boys. Their mother was tall. Not me though. I was close to the earth, let's say. The noise got louder. The crowd got thicker. I could not see Rufus ahead of us, and I was worried. My son had common sense but these crowds look dangerous. These people in Jerusalem were not always lawful, and they were not always respectful of other human beings. In a flash however I could see my son's bright red tunic. He was pointing. I did not see immediately what it was he was pointing at but then I did. It was a gaunt figure. A man with a beam on his shoulders, and he was covered in blood. It was a dreadful sight to be honest. It almost looked like we were watching a corpse stumbling up to the gate. As I found myself gaping at this figure, I felt something sharp poke my shoulder. Sharp enough that it could have made a hole, but it didn't. The person wielding this sharp thing knew what he was doing. He was a soldier. He asked me my name and I told him. Simon. I am Simon from Cyrene. “Simon of Cyrene you will help this man carry this crucifix. He is going to Golgotha. He is to be crucified. His name is Jesus Christ. He is a criminal.” I looked over at Jesus. Had I heard his name before? It was possible. It is a common name. There had been some talk about some teacher or rabbi here in Jerusalem causing trouble in the temple. I certainly didn't want to be a part of this, and I looked back at the soldier but then I was reminded in my mind that I am a subject of the governor and the emperor and that I was not free to refuse an order. And so I followed the directions, and I moved towards the man. His face was cast down and filled with filth, and he looked as if it had been run through a stone mill. I touched him carefully on his arm to get his attention, and he looked at me. His dark skin was dry and cool as if somehow the sun had not affected him. He seemed to know immediately why I was there, and I thought he said my name. I took the beam from his shoulders and I placed it on my own. It was heavy, and I wondered how this man could have carried it as far as he had. I did not know Golgotha and so the soldier had to lead. We were surrounded by soldiers. It was clear that this man was considered dangerous, but somehow standing next to him I could not believe that he was. I knew he was struggling to walk but still he managed to move as quickly as the soldiers. I admired his strength. His back was covered in fresh wounds. I knew that he had been tortured. I had heard that this was a common practice. I turned to him, and I said his name. He looked at me when I said it and his face turned serene. He said “I am just a carpenter. A teacher. Listen when others teach my lessons. My words will be your record.” And then a guard whipped him so that the tail of the whip cut him across the face. And I knew it was no good to pay any attention to him now. It would only mean more torture. And that's how we lurched towards the place of the skull. We were silent, and we moved without a struggle.
27.35
I am Luck. These men gamble, and so I'm here. Anytime there is gambling, I am always there. I am cruel. I would break them and their hopes. I always do. They're simply is no way to win with me. For even if you win, somebody else will lose. and sooner or later so will you. I have no heart. I do not care about the tears or the broken dreams. I do not care about your losses. Your losses are the air I breathe in and out. It's as simple as that. And today these men have joined me in my heartlessness. They are gambling for this dying man's clothes. This innocent man. This man who does not gamble and has never known me. There is no luck involved with him. There is truth. Truth is my enemy. Truth is the only thing that can stop me. And this man while naked on this cross is bathed in truth. While these soldiers gamble for his clothing, I cannot take his truth. All they would have to do is look at him and they would see it. But instead they have their hands in my pockets. And I will take their lives if I can. I will break them all in two.
27.37
καὶ ἐπέθηκαν ἐπάνω τῆς κεφαλῆς αὐτοῦ τὴν αἰτίαν αὐτοῦ γεγραμμένην
ΟΥΤΟΣ ΕΣΤΙΝ ΙΗΣΟΥΣ Ο ΒΑΣΙΛΕΥΣ ΤΩΝ ΙΟΥΔΑΙΩΝ.
27.38 - 27.40
I knew this would be our fate. Barabbas never lied to us. Our death was certain on the battlefield or nailed to this crucifix.
I don't want to die. I was willing to give my life for a cause until my life actually came in danger. I wish I had not followed him into that battle. I wish a sword had gutted me and not this awful thing. This is not a way for a man to die.
I know we hang here as an example to others who might consider standing up to Rome, but I also think we might remind our slavers that they are not invulnerable. I do hope that our death will inspire some to fight.
And now they have brought this man here instead of Barabbas. Why? Has our leader escaped death? Why would he not fight for us? Why would he not want to be here with us? He led us into the battle. He should be here dying as we die. Instead there is this nobody. What is that above his head?
"The king of the Jews?" I've heard of him. I see he's not very popular here. They are wagging their heads at him. I couldn't care less. If we could not topple the government with our swords, how could he do it with his words? I admire his bravery but he's also an idiot. And I am not a follower of idiots.
I think of the things that he must have endured without ever having had the satisfaction of killing his enemy. I don't think of myself as a killer, but it is a wonderful feeling to see the face of my enemies distort and disappear. To see his life leave him. I don't believe he deserves to live if he would enslave us the way he does. Does he deserve life If he would fight for those that would destroy us? No.
I wonder what words he would speak now if he could. As we hang here together I wonder if he will say anything to us. He looks like he's been torn apart. He looks like something ate him and spit him out. I doubt he will speak. I doubt he has words now.
I would like to ask him, what is the satisfaction of fighting your enemies without the sword? Without a weapon of any kind? I suppose he would say his weapon is his word. I have heard of his word. He speaks of love.
He speaks of love. I love my family. I love for people. I love freedom. These are the things I love, and that's why I'm willing to fight and die. To me, it seems like he is committing suicide.
They have killed him. The people that he tries to save have killed him. What would he say now? How would he interact with them now? Will he love them now?
Would he love me? Would he accept me, a man who has murdered? A man who has fought against the law? I fought against the laws that he has contradicted as well. He went into the temple and attacked those who would be holy. Hypocrites. To fight that way without a weapon seems foolish, but as I hang here thinking about these things, I wonder if his fight is stronger than mine.
Will I be remembered? I'm sure my family and friends will, but will strangers remember the things that I did? Do I remember other soldiers who fought? Last year? Yes. 100 years ago? No. Of course not. We remember the leaders. But this man is not a soldier. Even with his skin torn from his body and his bones broken, you can see that he is a leader.
I don't think I could accept a man who teaches and only speaks as the man who would lead a revolution. But maybe I'm wrong. There are people around us now who are wailing. There are those around us now who are broken. Crying. Devoted. Disciples. They will spread his word. The revolution might need a martyr instead of a sword.
My fellow rebel over there has a wife and children. He has people who will take his name and carry it forward. I am alone. I do not have a wife or children. I will die here, and that will be the end of me. And yet this man next to me has preached that there's something beyond. A kingdom of heaven he has said. I thought death on the battlefield would be glorious. But what will death up here mean for me?
I cannot bring myself to relinquish the things that I believe. Honor. Battle. To die fighting for justice is noble. This death is not. But I fought. I took the lives of my enemy.
Who is this man's enemy? When he preaches of love, who is it that he says cannot be loved? Can I be loved?
The three of us will die here together. Each of us as a criminal. I wish this man the best. I do not know if his word will last beyond his life. I know that I will not. Which of the three of us will die first tonight? Which of us will die best?
If he wakes I will speak to him. I will ask him about his kingdom. My leader escaped death so that this man would be here. Maybe that is a sign. Maybe my leader should be this man.
My wife will say the kaddish for me.
No one will say the kaddish for me.
אָמֵן
אָמֵן
27.41 - 27.44
Witness:
Fill your mouths with this blood and taste it in the fish that you pull from this river. You bathe in it. You will sink in it.
I will smash you, your children and your wives with a million frogs. I will bring them down upon you and make you regret.
And now you will feel the horrible discomfort of having your skin eaten. And not just your skin but the skin of your animals. You will turn swollen and red and scratch yourself until you're bloody. And you will beg for mercy, but there will be none.
And now you will see a blanket fall from the sky. It's black and makes a horrible noise. And your mouth and your nose and your ears will be filled with the angry trembling of flies. And you will know who brought this upon you. And you will live in misery because of me.
And now look into the fields. Look at your oxen. Look at your lambs. Look at your horses. Do you see them deteriorate? Do you see them stumble and fall over on their faces and on their sides and whither? There's horror inside of them now eating away at their organs. Eating away at their blood. That horror you feel is me. You have made a terrible mistake.
And now there is ash, and you see it filling up every corner and crevice and blocking out the sun as it descends. And you are full of sores. Your skin erupts. There's nothing smooth on your arms or legs or face. You are disfigured and distorted with these warts and boils. I am that dust. I have caused this devastation to you.
Now look up if you dare. We are in the middle of the desert and yet do you see what's falling from the sky? That is frozen rain. That is hail. Each one of those will hit you like a rock. I will stone you because you sin. And the pain you feel and the destruction you see is my hand. Don't forget that I am that I am.
And with all that hail sitting on the ground you will see another rain coming from the sky. This rain will have wings. This rain will be hungry. Locusts will cover everything and eat everything that is growing. And when they are done there will be nothing left that is growing. No more fields. No more trees. Nothing but dust. I will have stolen all of that from you. And you will know my name.
And now you may close your eyes because it won't matter. I will bring darkness on you. And you won't know the difference between being awake or asleep. Only the blind will be unaffected. But everyone else will join them. Because the blackness will stretch everywhere and there will be no relief. You will not see me but you will feel me.
And now, give me your firstborn.
Do you see my power?
27.45 - 27.49
Where are my plagues? Where are my locusts? Where is the darkness that should surround my enemies? Will you deliver me from Egypt? Will you take their firstborn so that I might be free?
”My God. My God. Why have you forsaken me?”
27.50 - 27.53
I have lived inside of him for all these years, and now I must go. I must slip out of him so that all that's left is a husk. It is difficult to do, but there is no choice. He cannot cling to me anymore. He has no way of holding me inside of him. I am his ghost, and I must go.
But before I go I will make it clear to those who cry or scream with sorrow or anger that this man was who he said he was. And I will shake the earth. And you will see the graves split and the ghosts will climb out of their holes and run through the city. You will see this miracle when you see him again. He will be back. He doesn't need me to rise again. There is another Spirit inside of Him.
27.54 - 27.55
He is he. He is he. He is he. He is who he says he is. The son of God. I have seen him. My spirit will not protect me. This armor might as well be just my skin. He is the son of God. He made the earth crack. I bend to him in fear.
27.56 - 27.57
A womb and a tomb are the same thing in this story. My son left one and he will leave the other. I cannot cry. It feels like a sin. I cannot be his mother. I am his child. I am like all the rest who sit at his feet and listen to him speak.
His birth was painful. His death will not be. And his rebirth will heal. I was a window. An angel opened me and his spirit came in. I cannot close that window now. I will not let grief stop me from feeling his blessings.
27.58
Remove his body. Give it to his friends and family. Let them bury him as they see fit. In his death I can be his friend. In his life I was not.
27.59 - 27.60
I am the air and the darkness inside of his final home. Joseph of Arimathea carved this tomb in just one day. It has never been the grave of anyone except the worms that once lived in here. And now it will be the final place for Jesus of Nazareth. When they roll the stone back in its place, I will be the only thing in here to protect him. He is wrapped in fresh linen. His wounds have been cleaned. He is as fresh as a man born in the straw and stars of a stable. I have known that air, too. I have been that air. I was there with all the livestock and the worshipers who came to see him. And I have stayed with him his whole life. I have been through his lungs. I have been a chill that he felt in the middle of the night. And I have brought him relief when the sun was so intently watching him. I am his air. I am also the darkness of the night when he was born. I am the dark that sits around him when everyone else is asleep and he is busy writing down the sermons that would one day change the world. I'm the darkness when he felt forsaken. When he felt alone. When the blindness consumed him as he choked to death hanging off the cross. I was that blackness that he could not see. And now I'm here. I will call him and comfort him and give him the chance to be a human for one last day. This is the last day he will be a man.
27.61
I knew I would love a man who was not a man. I knew I would love a man who could not love a woman the way men often love women. I married a word. I slept with an idea. He found the dignity in me, and I found the man in him. Because there was a man. He had to be a man. He had to be someone who could die, and so he also had to be somebody who could live. And to be alive means to be loved. And I loved him. I did. I loved him as God, but I loved him as Jesus as well. Until he came, all I knew was torment. Choices I should have made were made for me when I was very young and weak. My choices have been stolen by men who wanted my choices for their comfort and their hunger. They wanted my choices so that they could feel alive. And so I was left with nothing. Broken. All my body knew was how to be neglected. And so that's what I did. I went about the work of being neglected and broken and abused. And when the men came to me, there was nothing left for them to steal. And so all they did was use me. I was like a pencil. I was a tool. I was something you might take into the field in order to harvest. But I was not hard. Not hard enough. I was still made out of flesh even though I could not feel. Because everything inside me had been stolen and replaced with something that couldn't move. I was still And that made it easy to do what I do. To do what I have done. And as they piled into my door and let their offenses touch me, I turned myself into a fire. I made myself into a bloodless stone. And you could not roll me. You could not move me. All you could do was climb on top of me and finish and then be gone. So when he chose me, I did not feel. He was one more man. But when he did not climb on top of me, the stone broke. And somehow I climbed out. And when I did he was there with his hand and clean water and he washed me. And I was baptized by his steady love. It’s a love that has never eased or changed. It is not the love of an ocean. It is the love of a lake. It's a quiet place where you fish. And that's what he did. For all of us. We were his fish. I was no more special than anyone else. It's just he saw that I needed more. Maybe a stronger line. He was so adept at getting us all into the boat. I'm just glad that I'm no longer drowning.