In the end of the sabbath, as it began to dawn toward the first day of the week, came Mary Magdalene and the other Mary to see the sepulchre.
And behold, there was a great earthquake: for the angel of the Lord descended from heaven, and came and rolled back the stone from the door, and sat upon it.
His countenance was like lightning, and his raiment white as snow:
And for fear of him the keepers did shake, and became as dead men,
And the angel answered and said unto the women, Fear not ye: for I know that ye seek Jesus, which was crucified.
He is not here: for he is risen, as he said. Come, see the place where the Lord lay.
And go quickly, and tell his disciples that he is risen from the dead; and, behold, he goeth before you into Galilee; there shall ye see him: lo, I have told you.
And they departed quickly from the sepulchre with fear and great joy; and did run to bring his disciples word.
And as they went to tell his disciples, behold, Jesus met them, saying All hail. And they came and held him by the feet, and worshipped him.
Then said Jesus unto them, Be not afraid: go tell my brethren that they go into Galilee, and there shall they see me.
--Book of Matthew, Chapter 28
All of this is off the record, OK? I'm not going to be brought up on charges, or worse, handed over to Pilate's men. You saw what they did to that other fellow, right? The one that was . . . right here. And now isn't.
Fine. Once more. From the top. And try to follow me this time: There was an earthquake, see? Then the stone rolled. Then there was an angel and we just . . . hit the deck. If we were on another continent, at another time, I'd call it playing possum. What, take on an angel? Rome pays well, but not that well.
Yes, an angel. With the light and the noise and the fear and all that--and he must've been 10 feet tall. He was big enough to roll away the boulder. And sit on it like a stool. The only thing we could do was play dead. It was our only defense.
I don't know what I'm doing out here anyway! I belong in Rome, in the city, away from these people in the hinterlands, with their backwards ways and bawling animals and obvious sorcery. What kind of people would choose to live here among the rocks and hard ground and sand anyway? I mean, if you couldn't be Roman, because of the unfortunate circumstances of your birth, at least you could live in Rome, or close to it. Anybody who'd live in this part of the uncivilized world, and sleep in huts and eat this food, is either ignorant of their options or just plain crazy. Have you noticed their customs? What poor thing of a religion only has one god? Did you know that these people don't even put their newborns in the weather for a few hours after birth to weed out the sick and thus improve the race? No wonder they're in the condition they're in.
Thanks, but I'm sure I'll quit shaking after a bit. Just a little shock-and-awe. And I blame these people and their witchcraft. I saw a soothsayer in the city once who could do neat card tricks, but nothing like the display I saw here at dawn.
Remember, leave my name out of it. When you report, call me a keeper--a keeper requesting anonymity because I haven't been given permission to speak on sensitive matters on behalf of the Empire. But I tell you, that man who was put to death by the state, he wasn't spirited away by his followers. Nobody was here at dawn except us, the women and the 10-foot-tall rock-mover.
Yes, the women. They were with him at the end, too. I'm telling you, of all the unlikely theories, you're barking up the wrong tree thinking his male associates did this. Those guys were running in all directions last we heard. All directions away from here.
But the women stuck around.
No, I can't corroborate their story after the angel appeared. We were busy--balled up in the fetal position. I haven't a clue what he said to them. But I know the ladies looked around for a minute or two, then left out on a dead run. I don't know why their hurry. Shouldn't they have stopped long enough to build a temple first? You know, to mark the spot. To commemorate the place where all this occurred, to celebrate whichever god did it. Anyway, we would've followed the women, but our legs were a little weak.
Your boss isn't going to be happy? What do you think my boss is going to say? If that angel would've stuck around a little longer, we could've had more witnesses. Why it all had to happen at dawn, of all times, when folks are sleeping off the night, only Jupiter knows.
This dry land in a dry season, watching over a primitive race with primitive gods . . . . I knew a soldier's life was difficult, but this was supposed to be a cushy assignment: guarding a dead man. It was simple before it turned complicated.
Why can't I quit shaking?
I wonder where the women are now? They may be gathering the disciples from their hiding places. Talk about man-caves. Maybe I should go look for them, just to confirm the things I think I saw. You never saw such hopelessness in the eyes of women when they walked up at daylight. They were abandoned, betrayed, devastated, used. Then a few seconds later, their whole countenance changed. A few words from the rock-mover and they were running--joyous, filled with something just the opposite of despair. I'd like to know what that is. What that feels like.
No, no. No need to follow me. I gave you my statement. And remember, this was off the record.
What if this was no magic trick, and, instead, Something Happened here? Being a practical man, a Roman, I never had use for miracles before. But the women. They found something. I'd like to know what.
Maybe it was something simple he said. Like a message.
They might be carrying Good News.
I'll try to catch up with them now. Give my regards to Rome.
Editorial on 04/01/2018