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.
Then it happened! What was it? A noise? Nay! A breeze. A soft touch on my face. It felt like something moving…someone walking past me. But that could not be! The door was locked and I remained with my back braced against it, lest our hiding place be breached by those who wished and willed to kill us.
Yet, O, my God, in the faint light, it appeared to be…Jesus! It could not be! He was dead. I thought it an optical illusion. My eyes betraying me. Or a hallucination. My imagination deceiving me.
Yet all around me, everyone sat up. Taking notice. Looking in the same direction as I.
It was not only me! We all saw it! Saw him! Jesus!
He held out his hands and pointed to his side. Wounds! Dried, caked with blood!
It…he was Jesus!
He was back! Back from the dead! Back with us! Back to stay! O happy day!
He spoke, “Sālōm ‘ālēkem.”
Then he breathed on us. “Receive the Holy Spirit.” At that instant, I…we felt alert. Awake! Alive! Resurrected from the tombs of our grief and despair!
Then he departed. “Wait!” we, in one voice, cried. “Wait, Jesus! Do not depart! Do not leave us!”
Yet, as he had come, he was gone.
Somehow, with none uttering a word, we knew we were to go, in the presence of his peace, in the power of his Spirit, into the world to be as he was…as he, raised from the dead, is!
© 2021 PRA