The Three Days

The Passover meal awkward and tense somehow. They didn’t know exactly what was going to happen next and, when they did, didn’t know exactly what to say.  He broke the loaf. “My body.” He poured the wine. “My blood.”

They finished and went out into the night. He tried to pray. They tried to stay awake. And then it all began to happen. Angry voices. Fighting. Arrested. For what?

The hurried “trial.” Mock justice for the poor. They could expect nothing more. Torture. The lash. The “crown.” Blood everywhere. The long, encumbered walk. Through the city. Up the hill.

Hammer. Nails. The scream. Deed done.

And now the hours of waiting. Struggling to breathe. Inching his way up the cross to catch a breath. Pain forcing him down again. Muffled conversations.  Consciousness fading. Darkness.  Death.

Empty silent Sabbath. Confusion. Grief. Despair.

But the next morning. The women came at sunrise. Fearful. But the stone was gone.

So was the body.

He’s been raised…he’s not here!

We have to tell Peter…and the others!

He’s been raised!    

He is alive!

One Response to “The Three Days”

  1. Bowie Says:

    This is beautiful. Wonderfully written. Thank you & Happy Easter, Bishop

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