Poetic Imaginings of Three Easter Story Protagonists’ Inner Emotions
The drama of Holy Week and Easter is played out by real people in tragic situations. The Bible tells us of the plot, but not of the inner feelings of the characters. Here are a few of my speculations of the emotions of Pilate, Joseph and Mary…
Pilate’s Reverie
They just wouldn’t let him stay where he belonged.
Dead, down in that cave,
Where he couldn’t stir up any more trouble.It was all settled.
He couldn’t be tolerated; not now, not here.
‘Too much tension about the occupation.
‘Too many foreigners around Jerusalem.
‘Too many zealots wandering the streets.(Even his people agreed with me.
I couldn’t have done it if they didn’t let me . . .)Now some claim he is raised from the dead.
Wonderful. Just what I need.
I hoped for a rebellion so I could slaughter them like the Galileans,
and got a resurrection.
With what force can I stop that?What will I do if he shows up here
(my worst nightmare)?
Crucify him again?
Negotiate a treaty?
Ask his forgiveness?
Worship him?And what will they do?
This is not good - not good at all.
Tiberius will have my head.
Joseph’s Lament
I bore a son that he might thrive
Keeping our lineage alive with his passion.
They even say I was from David,
But I don’t know now.I could have spent more time with him,
But I thought his passion was a youthful flame,
Reducing itself with time
To the wisdom of glowing embers
And he would be back with me
Joining and framing with mallet and pin.Now he is gone,
Leaving me to wonder
If I might have done more.
But there was work to be done here.They say he was the son of God,
And not really my son,
But I know what I know.
I only know he grew as a wise and passionate rabbi,
Too wise for Rome to tolerate.And now we are left to continue,
Joining and framing with mallet and pin.
Mary’s Rage
I am angry with this God
Who inspired my son to call him father,
But would not save him from
The Emperor who calls himself God.I do not know this God
Who took our son from us
Who they say planted him in me
But I know what I know.What does it matter any more
Except to carry on his work
With the remains of his people
Who have not fled or denied him
Sealing their fate as well?Will I lose more sons?
Am I the one God is after?
Rome will not waste a cross on me,
A tearful woman.I will not grieve.
I will not give them pleasure.
I will continue with the women who knew him.
We will prevail.