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 am weary. Worn from sorrow and fear. If I but could sleep. Yet, e’en in slumber, I dare know I would find no rest. For in my dreams, my nightmares, I would see Jesus, bleeding, dying.
A moment ago, Mary Magdalene came to us, saying, “I have seen the Lord!” She told us she saw Jesus at the tomb. She thought he was the gardener, but when he called her name, “Mary,” she knew it was Jesus.
We did not believe her. I did not believe her. Her experience, only an emanation of her love, an expression of her longing.
I love and long for Jesus.
What will we do without him? What will I do without him?
Perchance nothing but die.
© 2021 PRA