Note: For Easter Week, based on the canonical gospel accounts and, particularly John 20, my imagined journal entries in an equally imaginary recently discovered mid-first century manuscript, translated from the original Aramaic, of a previously unknown and yet unnamed follower of Jesus of Nazareth.
I was a fool! Up until the end…the very end, I knew that Jesus would win.
When they arrested him in the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus did nothing. I thought he was biding his time.
When they took him before King Herod, Jesus did nothing. I thought he was biding his time.
When they took him before Pontius Pilate, Jesus did nothing. I thought he was biding his time.
When Pilate took him before the crowd, declaring, “Ecce homo, behold the man,” bidding that the people decide Jesus’ fate, Jesus did nothing. The people cried, “Crucify him, crucify him!” Jesus did nothing. I hoped he was biding his time.
When the soldiers stripped him, spit on him, scourged him with whips, the leather bands wrapped around bits of bone, tearing at his flesh, Jesus did nothing. I prayed he was biding his time.
When they took him to Calvary’s hill and nailed him to the cross, I cried, “Finally, Jesus will do something! Now, he will demonstrate his power! Now, the armies of angels will come to his aid!”
Truth to tell, I only had this image in my mind. I was not there on that hill. I was not there when they crucified my Lord. I ran away.
And, in the end, Jesus did nothing, but die!
© 2021 PRA