Skip to main content

Conversations on the way to the Cross 7: The Precaution




The chief priests approach Pilate


"But the man's dead, dammit!  What possible trouble can he cause now?"

"Undoubtedly he is dead, sir.  Your judgement was most... satisfactory.  But we are concerned..."

"He's dead, he's buried, and that's not enough?  What do you want from me?"

"Well you see, Mr Governor, this impostor had the bad manners to predict that he would come back to life, three days after he was killed.  Which, naturally enough, is impossible - "

"Although there were those rumours about that man Lazarus... "

"Nothing but superstition, Nicodemus!  As I say, the thing is impossible.  But I wouldn't put it past some of his friends to decide that it would be a nice publicity stunt.  All it takes is for the body to disappear, a few rumours to start..."

"...and we go from dead charismatic rabbi to immortal Messiah.  Not a good idea, I'm sure you'll agree, Mr Governor."

"You'll be wanting a guard for the tomb, then."

"Precisely, sir.  Just for a few days, you understand, until the danger has passed."

"And his friends?  Are they likely to mount an attack?"

"They are under observation, but their leader's death seems to have knocked the spirit out of them.  I think the presence of an armed guard will provide sufficient deterrence."

"Right then.  See to it that the miracle-worker stays in his tomb. You know what to do.

"And I don't want to hear one more word about Jesus of Nazareth!"

Matthew 27:62-66

Other Conversations from the Cross
1: The Donkey
2: The Commotion
3: The Authority
4: The Anointing
5: The Betrayal
6: The Burial

8: The Resurrection

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Mr White Watson of Bakewell

Once upon a time, back in 1795 or so, lived a man who was always asking questions.  The kind of questions like, "Why is glass transparent?" or "Why do fruit trees grow better in that place than in this place?" or "What does the earth look like underneath the surface?"  This last question was one that he was particularly interested in, and he went so far as to work out what the rock layers looked like where he lived, and draw little pictures of them.  Now he was a marble sculptor by trade (as well as fossil hunter, mineral seller, and a few other things) so he thought it would be even better to make his little pictures in stone.  That way he could represent the layers using the actual rocks they were composed of.  Over the course of his lifetime he made almost 100 of these tablets, as he called them. Then he died.  And no one else was quite as interested in all those rocks and minerals as he was.  His collection was sold off, bit by bit, and the table...

Laid-back Lille and Bustling Brussels

After a night in a tiny AirBnB in Canterbury , where there were chocolates on the table and artwork on every inch of the walls, we boarded a ferry with an absolute minimum of fuss, enjoyed a smooth crossing of the channel, and were deposited in the decidedly unscenic surroundings of the port of Dunkirk two hours later. Once we got past the cranes and shipping containers, though, the countryside was flat but pleasant. We stopped at a small town called Cassel, reached by cobbled roads winding up a hill. On the summit was an old windmill and a topograph telling you the distances to various improbable places; St Omer may have been visible in the haze, but Manchester was surely over the horizon.  In Lille, we found our apartment, unpacked the luggage (one rucksack apiece), and set out to find food. Our first choice was fully booked, so we embarked on that kind of aimless wandering where everyone is hungry and no one wants to actually choose a restaurant. We reached a Lebanese place call...

Canterbury Cathedral

We were booking a trip to France, and I persuaded the family that it was madness to drive four hours to Dover and get straight on the ferry. "We should definitely stay overnight somewhere," I said. "Oh look, Canterbury is very handy - just twenty minutes from Dover." Of course, my suggestion was not influenced in the slightest by the fact that Canterbury contains England's most famous cathedral. On the way down, we stretched our legs on Dunstable Downs, an area of chalk grassland owned by the National Trust. I was pleased to spot a scarlet pimpernel for my 100 Plants Challenge . We also enjoyed watching gliders ascending and descending. We turned onto the M25 and made our way through busy traffic to the Dartford Crossing. This is one of those mythical points on the UK road network, like Scotch Corner and Watford Gap: the name familiar from traffic reports on the radio; the reality - for someone who grew up west of London - a hazy blur of imagination. It turns ou...