Now We See But A Poor Reflection As In A Mirror

by foreveryourstruly

Different view points of the the last days of Christ.....Not bad :

Now We See But A Poor Reflection As In A Mirror

Judas

Judas fidgeted with his robe tassels. He knows, he thought to himself. He shook his head, frightened at the very idea. They had been sitting at the table for some time, enjoying and celebrating the Passover. Every time Jesus looked at him, Judas thought he saw the look of "I know what you are doing" reflected in dark pools of his eyes.

Jesus took the cup of wine that was in the center of the table. "I tell you the truth," he said, his voice quieting the conversations around him, "One of you will betray me."

There was a stunned silence. Judas looked away as Jesus' gaze swept the twelve seated in the room. He knows, the voice urged inside Judas. It had been growing insistent in the last hour of the feast. It was the way Jesus looked at him, the way he touched him when passing the maztah, it was the way he spoke to him. It scared Judas more that anything. He knows, whispered the voice again.

Finally, one of them asked in a trembling voice, "Surely not I, Lord?"

Jesus' didn't say anything.

Slowly, every one asked one by one," Surely not I, Lord?"

Soon all of them had asked except Judas. He was just about to ask, when he saw Peter nudge John as asked in a not-so-quiet tone, "Ask him who he means?"

John leaned slightly against Jesus and Judas saw him mouth the words, "Lord, who is it?"

Again Jesus looked around him. His gaze fell on Judas. "S-surely n-not I, R-r-rabbi?" he stammered out. His heart was beating like a drum. How could he know? It was impossible. Looking for a diversion, he broke off a piece of maztah and started to dip it into the bowl.

Jesus mimicked his actions. Quietly, almost whispering it in his ear, Jesus said, "It is the one whom I give this too." He stood up and walked over to Judas.

Judas instantly lost his appetite. He knows, whispered the voice. It was too clear now. He did know. As Judas touched the bread, something evil seemed to creep into him. All he wanted was to see Jesus dead. It was the only way he would be rid of the guilt that seemed to weigh on him every time Jesus looked his way.

"Whatever you have to do, do it quickly," murmured Jesus. There was pain in his voice and his eyes looked troubled. As Judas turned to leave, he heard Jesus sigh, "It would have been better for him is he had not been born."

Peter

Peter glanced at the retreating back of his fellow disciple. "Why'd he leave so fast?" he asked his brother Andrew.

Andrew shook his curly head. "Maybe the Lord told him to buy more provisions for the Passover." He shrugged his muscled shoulders. "I have no idea."

Peter was about to say something more, but he was interrupted by Jesus who took a piece of the maztah. said, "This is my body, broken for you. Do this in remembrance of me." He handed a piece to John and it went around the table. It was obvious that no one knew what he was talking about. But the sorrow that lurked in the depths of Jesus' eyes kept them all from asking the same question, Why?

In the same way, he took the cup of wine and blessed it, then said, "This is the blood of the covenant shed for you. Do this in remembrance of me. I tell you the truth, I will not drink of the fruit of the vine till I drink it anew with you in my Father's kingdom."

Then they sung a hymn and went out to the Mount Olives.

While they were walking to the garden of Gethsemane, Jesus said, "This very night you will all fall away on account of me. For it is written, 'I will strike the Shepherd and the sheep of the flock will be scattered.'"

No one knew how to relate to this. Peter, a little apprehensive, said, "Even if all fall away on account of you, I never will!"

Jesus turned his piecing gaze on Peter. "I tell you the truth, Peter, this very night, before the rooster crows, you will deny me three times." He held up three fingers to emphasize his point.

Peter shook his head emphatically. "Even if I have to die with you, I will never disown you, Lord!"

Jesus expression told him otherwise, but instead of contradicting him, he turned around and kept walking.

They came to where they usually stayed when they came to the garden. Many of the disciples sat down to sleep, but Jesus took aside Peter, James, and John. "Follow me," he said quietly.

They walked on a bit farther. Peter noticed Jesus' troubled eyes and his trembling hands. He wanted to help his friend and Lord, but he was not sure what to do.

Suddenly Jesus stopped and turned his agonized gaze on them. He looked them each in the eyes before he said in a distressed voice, hoarse with emotion, "My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. Stay here and keep watch with me."

They nodded and settled down, their backs to an olive tree. But Jesus didn't stay with them. He walked on a little farther, before he fell facedown to the ground. Peter could hear his agonizing sobs as he cried out to his Father in heaven. "My Father, if it is at all possible, may this cup be taken from me!" His sobs subsided and Peter heard him hoarsely whisper, "Yet not as I will, but as you will."

Peter tried to listen more, but Jesus quiet, submissive voice, lulled him into sleep.

He was jilted from his sleep by a hand shaking him. He opened his eyes to see James and John rubbing their eyes. Jesus stood in front of him, reproach standing in his eyes. "Could you men not keep watch with me for one hour?" he said it to them all, but he was looking at Peter as he said it. Peter felt shame and remorse as he heard him. "Watch and pray so that you do not fall into temptation." Jesus tipped Peter's chin up, forcing him to look at him. Jesus eyes softened as he continued, "For the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak." He smiled a sad smile and walked away.

As soon as he was gone, Peter felt the desire to sleep again. He tried to stay awake, but the battle was a losing battle. He fell asleep.

"Are you still sleeping?" Jesus' voice sounded slightly irritated. "Look, the hour is near, and the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners." He looked behind him and quickly turned around. "Rise, let us go! Here comes my betrayer!"

Judas

He was right! They were in the garden, just where he had thought they would be. He lifted the torch higher and saw the outline of Peter, James, and John. They were all rubbing their eyes, but the look in their faces told him that they knew about his betrayal. Not wanting to think about it, he turned to the centurion behind him. He beckoned to him. "Remember, the one I kiss is the man, arrest him," he whispered.

The centurion nodded and took the torch from his hands.

Judas wiped his hands on his clothes. The rough wool seemed to bite him, saying, What are you doing! This is Jesus of Nazareth! He truly is God. Why are you doing this! But he ignored the condemning thoughts. He had to do this. There were thirty pieces of silver waiting for him. Besides it always seemed as if Jesus knew what Judas was doing. It scared him.

He walked towards Jesus. His cool eyes never left Judas. "Judas," he whispered, "are you betraying the Son of Man with a kiss?"

Judas could see his fear reflected in Jesus' eyes. He knew! Again he pushed out the troubling thoughts and plastered a false smile on his face. "Rabbi!" He bent forward and kissed Jesus' cheek. Immediately, he was pulled back as the centurion, Marcus, grabbed hold of Jesus. The disciples that were there, fled. The soldiers bound Jesus and led him away.

"What have I done?" cried Judas, once they were gone. "I have betrayed the Son of Man!" The look in Jesus' eyes would haunt him forever.

Caiaphas

Caiaphas had wanted to get his hands on this hypocrite for a long time. And now he was standing right in front of him. This would be the end of Jesus if Caiaphas could help it. He grinned at his thoughts. Perfect…

Many men came before him, claiming things about Jesus. But most of the time, their statements didn't agree. Even Caiaphas could tell that the testimonies didn't line up. Frustrated, he turned and looked over at the curtain where two of his men were staying. He nodded curtly to them and they materialized from the mesh of the curtain.

They clasped their hands and eyed Jesus through their narrowed eyes. The first spoke. "This fellow said, 'I am able to destroy the temple of God.'

"'And rebuild it in three days!'" cried the other.

Caiaphas smiled behind his beard. All was going as planned. He wiped the smile off his face, stood up, and said grimly, "Are you not going to answer? What is this testimony that these men are bringing against you?"

Jesus just stared at him. Not a word passed his lips.

Caiaphas felt anger boiling inside him. Why didn't he answer? "I charge you under oath by the living God: Are you the Christ, the son of the Blessed One?"

"I am," replied Jesus quietly. He raised his shackled hand to silence the stunned crowd who was beginning to protest. With each word he spoke, his voice grew stronger and stronger until it filled the whole room. "But I say to all of you: In the future you will see the Son of Man sitting at the right hand of the Mighty One and riding on the clouds of heaven."

Caiaphas tried to conceal the anger that had boiled over, but he was unable. He tore his clothes and screamed at the top of his voice, "He has spoken blasphemy! Why do we need to hear anymore witnesses? You have heard the blasphemy! What do you think?"

The crowd surged to their feet, crying, "He is worthy of death!"

Perfect...

Peter

The night was cold and Peter was freezing. He wrapped his arms around himself and blew on his hands, but the cold remained. John had helped him into the courtyard of the high priest, but he wanted to stay in the background. He didn't want to be noticed. But instinct won over sense. Peter inched towards the fires. Sticking out his hands, he felt the warmth of the fire seeping into his chilled bones.

But his cover was blown. A servant girl walked up to him. Her eyes were curious as she asked, "You also were with Jesus of Nazareth, yes?"

Fear gripped Peter's heart. I should have stayed in the corner, he thought, desperately wanting to be anywhere but with this girl. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said.

At the first chance available, he slipped out to the gateway. He needed to leave, before he was associated with Jesus. But he was spotted again by another serving girl. She pointed to him, "This man was with Jesus of Nazareth," she cried. "I've seen you with him!"

"I don't know that man!" replied Peter earnestly. He started to walk away, when a man grabbed him by his tunic and said intensely, "Sure you are one of them, for your accent gives you away."

Peter pulled away and swore, "As surely as I am alive, I don't know the man!"

Immediately a rooster crowed. Jesus face filled Peter's thoughts. Before the rooster crows, you will disown we three times. Remorse overcame Peter and he went outside and wept bitterly.

Judas

Judas quivered as he turned to the chief priests. "I have sinned, for I have betrayed innocent blood."

"What is that to us?" they said unconcerned. "That's your responsibility. You were the one that made the decision to betray him, not us."

Judas threw the money at them. "Take it," he cried. "I don't want blood money!"

He went outside the city to a field people called the Potter's Field. Once there, he started pacing. His fingers were tangled in his hair as he raved, "I betrayed innocent blood! How could I betray my master? What a fool I am!" He pulled at his beard and wept. "How could I do such a thing!"

He paused under a tree panting slightly. The last three years of his life seemed to rise up before him. He began to talk softly to himself, fingering a necklace he had around his throat. Sweat trickled sown his face. "I was never one of the twelve. I could sense it in the stares of the other men. I was never accepted as one of them! I was just the man who kept care of the money. Sure, I followed him around listening to his teaching, but I was never part of the serious discussions. That was always for Peter, James and John – the fishermen! No one ever thought to ask me about what I was thinking when they handed out bread for over four thousand people. Not one person asked me!" Judas' seethed and his eyes flashed. He yanked on the necklace and it broke, the beads spilling out onto the ground. The sweat was pouring form his face. He bent down to pick up the beads, his fingers trembling as he tried to control his rage.

When all the beads were picked up, his anger had simmered a little. Then the tears came. Sobs racked his body as he swayed back and forth. "But now what have I done! I am the evilest of all men!"

Pilate

When the man entered the room, Pilate never had seen anyone so beaten up. His face was streaked with dried-up blood and his eyes were tired looking, as if he wanted to get it over with. His clothing weren't much to talk about. It was one piece of woven cloth. But there was something about the man that intrigued him. There was a light in his eyes that shone out like a beacon. Even in his dirty rags, he looked like a king.

"What do you want?" he asked the priests who had entered behind the man.

"He causes trouble in our area, my lord. He stirs up the people and we want you to deal with him," answered the high priest. His eyes glinted with something that made Pilate shiver.

Pilate gazed at the man with curiosity. He didn't look like he would cause anyone harm. "How?" he asked Caiaphas.

"He claims to be the Son of God."

Pilate's eyes widened. He turned to the man, "Are you the King of the Jews?"

"Yes, it is as you say," he replied.

"This man claims that he will tear the temple down and in three days rebuild it… in three days!" interrupted one of the priests. "It took years to build the temple and now he says he will tear it down and build it in three days!"

"Where did he come from?"

"This is Jesus Ben Joseph, the carpenter's son. He came from Nazareth, the hill country near the Sea of Galilee."

Pilate had heard of this Jesus, the one who performed miraculous signs and wonders. He healed the sick and lame and gave sight to the blind. He even had raised the dead! He was known all over the countryside. He preached of salvation and eternal life.

Pilate's mind wandered as the accusations continued to flow from the mouths of these men. False accusations. Many people came to him each year with complaints and most of the time he only heard a few from their great list of things they didn't like him doing. Therefore, out of habit, he ignored many of the priests' charges as well.

When they were done, Pilate went out onto the palace balcony and spoke to the crowd that had assembled when the priests brought in Jesus. "Do you want me to release to you the King of the Jews?" he asked.

"No!" cried the crowd, "We want Barabbas!"

The man was a convict and they wanted him. He had murdered countless innocent lives and they wanted him to be released? It was beyond Pilate's thinking.

"And what shall I do with the man called Jesus?"

"Crucify him! Crucify him!" they shouted. The roar was deafening. Many had raised their hands, their faces contorted in rage.

Above the din of the crowd Pilate spoke again. "Why? What crime has he done?"

But his voice was lost in the roar of the crowd, "Crucify him! Crucify him!"

Pilate sighed and turned to his centurion Marcellus. "Release Barabbas and give Jesus a flogging. Maybe that will appease the crowd to see blood. I don't want him to die."

Marcellus nodded, saluted, and strode off to obey Pilate.

Pilate grimaced and rubbed his furrowed brow. This was going to be a long day…

Marcellus

They took him away to the Praetorium, an inner courtyard, where all the punishment was executed. The men gathered around Jesus as they stripped him of his clothes. Marcellus led him over to the flogging pole. He took his chains off and fastened him to the pole. He nodded to one of his men, Aquilla, and the flogging began. The first lash laid across his back drew blood. Jesus' mouth formed a grim line and he closed his eyes, trying to bear the pain. The screams across the courtyard confirmed another flogging was taking place. Marcellus looked over to see another man was tied to another flogging post. His mouth was as wide as his eyes as he screamed in pain as another stripe was added to his back. Marcellus turned his attention back to Jesus. Aquilla's assistant, Segundo, was counting patiently the lashes and Aquilla kept on the flogging. Marcellus looked at Jesus and found him staring intently at him. Not once did he open him mouth as the stripes increased on his back. As he suffered, he looked straight at Marcellus. His eyes pooled with tears as the whip was laid upon his back. The tears spilled down his cheeks as one after another as the suffering increased. At one point one of the spikes on the whip caught the opposite side of his back, ripping the flesh clean from his body. Marcellus saw the white of Jesus' rib cage. By the time they were done, Jesus was a living quivering piece of raw flesh. The men laughed as they saw Jesus eyes roll to the back of his head. He moaned slightly and slipped in blood, unable to stand in what was now a pool of his own blood. The men unchained him and he immediately fell. One of the men took his robes and two others picked him up, sliding him across the smooth, slippery pavement.

"Does anybody have anything kingly to robe our majesty in?" asked one of Marcellus' comrades, Marcius once they were in the barracks.

"Here's a purple robe," offered Aquilla. He grinned as he handed over the poorly-made cloak.

"And I thought of the most kingly thing," said another named Junias. He brought out a crown of thorns, twisted together to form a brutal sign of kingship. "I made it myself." Everyone laughed uproariously.

"All hail his majesty, King Jesus," mocked Marcius. He knelt down and pushed the crown onto his head. Blood trickled into Jesus eyes, but he did not lift his hand to wipe it away. As Marcius knelt, he slapped Jesus on the face and spit on him. "Hail, King of the Jews," he smirked as he slapped him again.

Aquilla brought down a staff upon Jesus' head. "Prophecy, how hit you?" he asked. But Jesus made no reply.

Marcellus felt a twinge of pity as he watched Jesus get slapped and spit upon again and again. The man had not made one sound yet, and for this Marcellus admired him. He watched for five minutes, letting his men indulge in the man. When it was up, he ordered, "That's enough."

"But, sir," complained Junias, "we were just getting started." The rest laughed at his cruel joke, but Marcellus remained unmoved.

"Obey me," he commanded. "Am I not your captain? I am the centurion of this band of men and I say enough. Now lead this man off."

They took the robe off and gave him back his clothes, but the crown of thorns remained on Jesus' head, a cruel sign of kingship.

Pilate

Pilate was distressed when he saw the bloody mess of a man. "I told you not to kill him," he growled at Marcellus. "He can barely stand!"

"Things got a little out of hand, sir," replied Marcellus. "I tried to stop it as soon as I could."

Pilate stared at his right hand centurion, trying to see if he was lying. He could usually see what Marcellus was thinking by just looking at him. Judging from the sad expression on the centurion's face, he wasn't lying. He nodded his head and went back out to the crowd.

"Here is your king!" he said loudly.

A man in the crowd yelled out, "We have no king but Caesar!" The whole crowd agreed in shouts and cheers.

"Crucify him!" cried another.

"Give us Barabbas!"

Pilate sighed and looked at Jesus. He stared right back, his eyes compassionate, even in his suffering.

Unable to bear the look, Pilate turned to Marcellus. He hated what he was going to say, but it had to be said or there would be a riot.

"Crucify him."

Benjamin

The soldiers grabbed Benjamin's hands and tied them securely to a wooden beam. He quivered slightly. Ashamed of his first reaction, he let out a string of curses at the soldiers. They only laughed and prodded him with their whips. The poking sent waves of fire up Benjamin's torn back.

"Get a move on, slow one," called the soldiers, laughing at his attempts to stand up.

"Shall I help you?" asked another. The lash was laid on his back and Benjamin screamed, struggling desperately to get up. Eventually he managed to stand and wobble in the direction of the outer city.

I'm going to my death. The thought crossed Benjamin's mind and he spit, thinking of the thought. It wasn't fair. Sure he had killed a man, but the man had been trying to harm his family. He had lost his temper and hit the man with a thick plank. He had had to kill the man. Now he was going to die for it.

"Just be thankful you're not him," whispered Samuel, walking slowly past him. He pointed with his chin to the man in front of them. His back was in shreds and there was a crown on thorns on his head.

For the next half hour, Benjamin watched the man in front of him get pushed, fall, get up, and get pushed again. It was a continuing cycle and it made Benjamin sad. What had the man done to deserve such reticule and disrespect? He must have murdered many. It was the only explanation he could come up with.

Just then, the man fell. He did not get up again. The centurion prodded him with his foot, but the man remained still. The centurion let out a little huff and searched the crowd, selecting a very burly man who looked to be made of muscle. He called the man and forced man to carry the beam.

When they got to the hill called Golgotha, the soldiers started assemble the beams together, forming crude-cut crosses. They laid Benjamin and Samuel on them, and nailed their hands and feet to the cross. Pain erupted into Benjamin's senses ad the first nail went into his hand. He screamed and pulled at the restraining ropes that bound him. No pain had been as severe as the searing pain that ran up and down his arms as legs as one by one, they were nailed into the wood.

Through the haze of pain, Benjamin saw the soldiers stretching out Jesus on the beams and heard the resounding sound of the hammer as it pushed the first nail into the soft flesh of his hand. A moan escaped his lips and tears flowed heavily, but nothing more.

His attention was drawn back to the soldiers by his cross. They looped ropes around his cross.

"One…two…three…heave!" cried one. They pulled on the ropes and Benjamin started rising in the air. They drew him upright. The weight of his body tugged on the nails, causing the blood to flow freely. This was how he was going to die. He would hold himself up as long as he could. If the soldiers got bored of watching him stand, they'd break his legs to hasten the death. When his strength failed him, he would collapse and his lungs would cave in, suffocating him.

Four more hours of hell on earth…

Mary

Mary stood and watched her son as he hung from the cross. The expression of pain was clearly drawn on his face. He was suffering and she could so nothing to ease it. She couldn't take him in her arms as she used to when he was a little boy who scrapped his knee. All she could do was watch. It was slowly breaking her heart.

She felt an arm around her shoulders and turned to see John, Jesus' close friend. His face was grim, but he tried to smile for her.

The sky had grown dark and a wind was starting up. It blew Mary's black head scarf off, showing her graying hairs. She knew that the worry lines were etched deep into her brow, but at her eyes, there were laugh lines – a remnant of what was once good. She quickly covered her head. She looked up at her son again, and the tears began to flow again. This wasn't good, but she couldn't help it. She was watching her son die.

The voice of her son made her look up at him. "Dear woman, here is your son." He smiled through his pain. He looked at John, "Here is your mother." Closing his eyes, he gasped, "I am thirsty."

The soldiers ran around. One grabbed a sponge and stuck it on a stick. He lifted it to Jesus' lips, but he refused to drink it. He shook his head. Blood truckled into his eyes and Mary wished she could wipe it away.

Benjamin

The pain was subsiding a little, thanks to the wine that the soldiers had given Benjamin. Samuel, on the other hand, was still in a lot of pain. The way Jesus was handling being crucified was just maddening him. He cursed Jesus with all his strength, encouraging Benjamin to do it as well. But Benjamin had experienced a change. He had watched the way Jesus handled things – how patient he was.

He glared at Samuel and told him to be quiet. "Don't you fear God since you are under the same sentence? We're punished because we deserve it, I can now see that, but this man has done nothing wrong." He turned to Jesus, "Remember me when you come into your kingdom."

Jesus smiled at him, tears flowing down his cheeks. "Today, you will be with me in paradise."

Mary

Mary watched as her son gasped, his body arching to fill his lungs with much-needed air. Pain filled his face. He looked up to heaven and screamed, "Eloi! Eloi! Lama sabachthani!" His sobs caused his body to spasm. He whimpered a little as the pain hit him again. "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"

Mary's heart tore to see her son in such agony. All she wanted to do was go to him, but John gentle hand restrained her.

Jesus' body shook as he cried out in a loud voice, "It is finished!" with that his body shuddered then stopped.

"No!" screamed Mary. She ran to her son, but she never made it. The earth shook and she fell to the ground.

Marcellus

The earthquake made Marcellus stumble. He grabbed his spear and leaned on it, to keep himself upright. He saw a woman in front of him run to the body, but he couldn't right himself to run after her. He was remembering the face of Jesus, just before he died. It was of love and compassion and pain and suffering all in one look. It scared him.

"Surely this man was the Son of God," he whispered to himself.

Benjamin

Benjamin watched as Jesus died beside him. He felt the earthquake shake his cross and saw the centurion fall to his knees. It was over. Jesus was dead.

A little while later, the sun came out again. A ray of light seemed to illuminate Jesus' body, causing the blood-caked body to shine a bright crimson red.

After getting over the initial shock of Jesus' death, the soldiers received a letter from Pilate. Benjamin heard them read the letter out loud to themselves.

"By order of Pontius Pilate, the legs of the three men crucified today are to be broken."

All hope was lost now. It was over.

Benjamin watched as a burly soldier walked over to Samuel, pulled the mallet behind his back, and swung the mallet, breaking Samuel's legs. Samuel screamed with pain and his body slumped forward.

They walked over to him and he braced his legs for the crack of his bones. Four seconds later, he fell forward joining Samuel as they both gasped for the needed air. Benjamin couldn't right himself and the air was slowly getting squeezed out of his lungs.

He couldn't breathe anymore!

Marcellus

The second criminal had gone quiet. He was dead. Marcellus sighed. It had been a long day, one that would be engraved deep into his memory forever. He saw his men walk over to Jesus, but they found that he was already dead. Aquilla raised his mallet to break Jesus' legs, but Marcellus stopped him. He didn't want to destroy anymore of Jesus than he had to.

"Give me your spear," he commanded Junias.

Junias handed it over to him and Marcellus walked up to where Jesus hung. He gazed at the mangled body, so torn. Ribbons of flesh dangled from his sides. The crown of thorns had left deep punctures and blood was thickly encrusted in his hair.

Marcellus shoved the spear into his side. Instantly a shower of blood and water mingled together shot out of the wound.

Pilate

"I want the body of Jesus of Nazareth."

"What?" Pilate turned from his bowl of fruit, a grape halfway to his mouth, and stared at Joseph of Arimathea. He gazed back with a placid look on his face. His hands were clasped in front of him and he shifted on his feet, the tassels on his robe almost brushed the ground.

"I want the body of Jesus."

"He's not dead."

"I watched him die," were the quiet words of Joseph.

This shocked Pilate. He turned to Marcellus who was standing in the corner of the room. "Is this true? Is Jesus really dead! He can't have been up there for more than six of seven hours."

"He's dead," was the confirming remark of Marcellus. There was no mocking smile in the voice. It almost seemed as if Marcellus was sad about his prisoners' death. This was new to Pilate.

"You may take it then," agreed Pilate.

Joseph bowed, then left.

Pilate turned to Marcellus. "I see he's gotten to you too," he remarked.

"Yes." Marcellus looked away, his countenance disturbed. "I can still see his eyes as he was getting flogged. They were so forgiving, even in his pain."

"I know what you mean. As soon as I looked at him, I knew he was innocent. Why did they have to kill him? It's doesn't make sense!"

Joseph of Arimathea

"Ten more feet," panted Nicodemus.

Joseph nodded and turned his attention back to his precious load. It had taken hours to wrap Jesus. He had covered Jesus with the soft burial clothe, while Nicodemus had sprinkled myrrh and aloes in between the coverings, so as to keep the smell away. Now they were coming to his tomb.

Joseph had carved out the sepulcher himself, intending it to be his final resting place, but now it would be the burial chamber of the Lord. It was solid granite and situated in a garden. It had taken Joseph a year and a half to carve it out. It would have taken shorter, but he was part of the Council and therefore had to sit for hours and hear the men debate Scripture.

"Easy," cautioned Nicodemus as they entered the narrow entrance of the tomb. Joseph had to duck a little. "On the count of three, we're going to place him on the rise," said Nicodemus. "Ready? One…two…three!"

The two of them lifted Jesus onto the sill at the far end of the tomb. Joseph arranged him, then touched the clothed face, "Farewell."

Mary Magdalene

"Mary, you must stop pacing," cried her friend Miriam. "I can't stand it anymore!"

"I cannot help it," she replied. She stood in front of her friend. "Let's go now. Please? I can't wait any longer."

Miriam sighed and put away her sewing. "Let's go."

Mary ran into her room and grabbed her headscarf and flew out the door.

"Mary, wait up!" But she wouldn't listen. For days, Mary had been inside observing the Passover. She had been there with Jesus' mother, Mary, when he was crucified. As soon as he was taken down from the cross, she had wanted to see the tomb, but Miriam had prevented her. Now all she could do was run.

When she came to the garden, she stopped. All of a sudden, she didn't want to see the tomb. Soldiers were pacing outside the entrance. A huge seal covered the stone to the opening. Miriam caught up to her and grasped her hand, "Don't worry, everything is going to all right."

Suddenly, the earth shook, knocking the women off their feet. She heard the cry of the soldiers. Shielding her eyes, she saw a shining figure rolling back the stone. The soldiers lay at his feet like dead men. His appearance was like lightning and his clothes were as white as snow.

"Don't be afraid, he said, "for I know who you are looking for. Jesus is not here. He has risen from the dead. Come see the place where he lay." He pointed with his hand to the empty tomb. All there was was the head cloth and the strips of cloth that had been wrapped around his body. Nothing more. "Go tell his disciples!"

Miriam ran, without looking behind. Mary stayed behind. He had risen? How was this possible? No one rose from the dead. His disciples must have carried him off. What a cruel joke! Mary knelt outside the tomb and wept. Her Lord was gone and she didn't know where he was!

"Woman, why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?" asked a gentle voice.

Mary turned to look at the speaker. His head covering hid his face, but his arms were muscular and his posture tipped forward a little bit. He must be the gardener.

"Sir," she said, "if you have taken my Lord away, tell me where he is so that I may go to him and get him." Her voice quivered a little, but she dared to look into his face. Kindly brown eyes stared back at her. Something in them reminded her of someone, but she couldn't remember.

"Mary," he whispered. His eyes welled up with tears.

It all made sense now. "Rabboni!" she cried. She fell at his feet.

"Don't touch me," he said, "for I have yet to return to the Father. Go instead and tell my brothers the good news." He smiled kindly at her. "Go," he urged her when she seemed a little hesitant. He lifted his hands to tenderly shoo her. It was then that she saw the nail marks. It really was him!

She ran to catch up with Miriam. When the two of them burst into the upper room where the disciples were staying, Mary yelled, "I have seen the Lord!"

Thomas

"I will not believe it," Thomas cried. He could feel his face turning red. It happened when he got worked up.

"Thomas," sighed Peter. "We, that is, John and I, have seen the empty tomb. He's gone, Thomas. Not only that, but the rest of us have seen him in our midst."

"While I was gone, of course," muttered Thomas to himself. Aloud he said, "Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my hand in the wound in his side, I will not believe!"

"Thomas!" the commanding voice startled him, stopping anything that might have come next. "Peace to you." Jesus smiled. Beckoning him, he said quietly, "Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Stop doubting, Thomas, and just believe."

Thomas fell on him knees. His face was bright red by now, but this time with shame that he hadn't believed sooner. "My Lord and my God!"

"Because you have seen me you believe," he tipped Thomas' chin up and continued. "But blessed are they who have not seen me and yet believe."

Peter

Peter marched up the hill silently. Many things had happened since Thomas' declaration. Jesus had done many miraculous things. Not only that, but he had put him, Peter, in charge of the new believers – a heavy burden. When he had protested, Jesus had just said, "You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church and the gates of Hades will not overcome it. Feed my sheep."

Now he had asked the disciples to meet him at the Mount of Olives.

Peter saw him sitting under and olive tree, his head covering upon his head. He was praying. They waited until he was done. He looked up then smiled. "Do not leave Jerusalem, but wait for the gift my Father has promised, which you have heard me speak about," he began. "For John baptized with water, but in a few days you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit." His smile grew.

Simon the Zealot asked him excitedly, "Lord, are you at this time going to restore the kingdom to Israel?"

"It is not for you to know the times or dates that Father has set by his own authority," he replied quietly. "But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you; and you will be my witnesses Jerusalem and in all the Judea and Samaria and to the ends of the earth." He looked up to heaven before he looked back at them, smiling, and continued. "All authority in Heaven and on earth has been given to me. Therefore, go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you to the very end of the ages."