The First Day of the Week

210616-1900On Easter 2008 (9 years ago! Hard to believe.) I was inspired by the Resurrection story as related in John’s Gospel to try writing my own version from the point of view of the main character. I was happy with the result and shared it with a few people, but didn’t have a way to share it more widely. Now I do. Please accept this Easter gift:

THE FIRST DAY OF THE WEEK

“It’s time to get up.”

He stretched. The air was cool and still. It smelled strange, but not bad. The room was quiet and he seemed to have it to himself, a rare pleasure. That could account for the restful sleep.

“How do you feel?”

A strange question first thing in the morning. Not, “Did you sleep well?” or “Are you hungry?” But this whole waking was strange. He remembered things he didn’t used to know – things only God knew – but the last few days were a muddle. He couldn’t remember where he ate the Passover this year. Or whose house this was.

His stomach growled. “I feel fine. Better than fine – like God’s own son. But I’m starving. When did I eat last?”

“I believe it was Thursday.”

“Thursday? What day is it now?”

“It’s the first day of the week.”

He had never slept that long in his life. Perhaps that explained the muddle. Still, he must have needed the rest. “I had the strangest dreams. Nightmares, some of them.”

“Those weren’t nightmares.”

He felt a chill that didn’t come from the cool air. He opened his eyes at last and sat up. He had been lying on a stone shelf. Strange that it should be so comfortable, with only a little cloth for bedclothes. As he moved, the strange smell strengthened. Myrrh and aloes. He looked around at the small stone chamber – almost a cave, hewn out of solid rock. It was lit by a gentle radiance that seemed to come from the two figures at his head and feet. “Fear not,” they said together.

Angels. Interesting. “Do I look afraid?”

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