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

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...

Growing things

For those of you who are interested in my attempts at balcony gardening, I thought I'd update you a little. For those who aren't, don't skip this post. You may find something else of interest. Apart from the ever-present herbs, tomatoes and cayenne peppers are on the go this year. The peppers are really on the go - we went away for a week and came back to find them twice the size as when we left. Now they're producing fruit which is growing at a similarly rapid rate, though none has ripened to red yet. I realised I should have given you some kind of scale, so I just went out and measured. They're about 22 cm long, or 8 1/2 inches for you non-metric types. I may have to find out how to dry peppers if they all ripen at once. A couple of tomato plants are looking pretty healthy and beginning to flower. A few died; one, apparently, by being eaten whole by a bird, a trouble I've never had before. I had two seedlings left so used those as replacements, b...

Back on the Portway: Smalley and Morley

I didn't by any means feel I had fully explored the Erewash Valley, but I had completed my planned routes and got some idea of the transport, industry, and general geography of the area. It was time to return to the Portway. There are lots of -leys around here. Smalley, Morley, Mapperley, Stanley, Horsley. The suffix means "woodland clearing", and although there are not many woods around any more, it doesn't take much imagination to think of little villages among the trees. I started in Dale Abbey (or should that be Daley Abbley?) where the monastery once dominated the surrounding area. I've been to Dale Abbey several times but never actually walked through the village before. There is a neatly trimmed pub, an old chapel, now a church known as The Gateway, and a house with an odd lumpy corner which I realised must be part of the ruined abbey. A field path led me up to the main Derby-Ilkeston road. I crossed it and followed a couple of horses along a single-track l...

Martha's Marvellous Munchies

Search This Blog