Everyone seemed to hate him. His friend kissed him on the cheek and the soldiers shackled him. How did it come to this, he thought. A few days ago everyone was casting palms at his feet and celebrating his entry into the City. Mom was beaming and Dad was proud. M.M. was smiling at him and he could see in her eyes her approval for his work. The blind man was there as well as Nicodemus and Zachius and Scribes and the Pharisees. They were nodding their approval and joining in the festivities. ‘When you are up…you are up,’ he said to James his brother.

What a struggle he had had with Big S. and his suggestions. They all sounded feasible and a wonderful alternative to what was coming. He recalled how his thumb hurt when he accidentally hit it in Dad’s Shop. The stinging pain had caused him to swear an oath and he wondered if he would do so again today. What a mission he considered. Hope for the hopeless and peace for those in conflict…and death as the reward for his labor. What a deal his Dad had given him!

Pilate had pleaded with his people to let him live…and they chose in a vehement motion of solidarity to let a thief live in his place. ‘Well that is alright he thought…I am no better than any other human.’ Blood streamed down into his eyes. His feet and legs felt like lead. ‘I can not carry it any further,’ he said. ‘I will carry it for him,’ said Simon. ‘My goodness that is a bit better,’ he thought.

‘There is Mom and Mary and I feel ashamed to be displayed in such a manner before them,’ he thought. ‘I am so thirsty…please give me a little water,’ he asked. The sky became dark as night and the veil of the temple was rent in twain…and he died as he said…it is finished…

It was a celebration…a Holiday… He hoped that he had gotten everything prepared…everything right. It was a familial/business meeting. There would be much to discuss. Things were going to change. Actually little would be as it had been.

What an interesting journey…what an exciting ride, he thought. Hope buoyed him…and he rode on the dreams of his friends. As they all came into the dining hall they were laughing and goading each other. They were a good group. Local boys and hard workers. They all wanted to sit near the boss. As always they were all ready for a glass of wine.

‘What did the boss say…take some bread and drink from his cup…for how long,’ the Big Guy asked? ‘I could not hear him as everyone was talking at once…and someone hollered to the matron and asked her when she was going to take the food order,’ the Young One said.

‘As he passed me the bowl of appetizers he said…I thought that he said…that one of us who dipped his hand in the bowl with him was going to betray him,’ The Old One said. ‘What did you do then,’ asked the Young One?’ ‘I jerked my hand out of the bowl and passed it on…I never cared much for appetizers,’ The Old One said.

He started singing. He liked to sing and he enjoyed his friends singing with him… The song was sad and soon everyone began to cry… except J.I. who sat silently and appeared deep in thought.

The temperature had plummeted fifteen degrees. It had felt like early summer and now it felt more like fall, instead of a warm shirt the need dictated a sweater and hat to accompany the ensemble. Life was simple enough for the poor and boiled down to the necessities and few luxuries. The kids were excited about Easter and the Easter Bunny, hiding Easter Eggs, and getting Easter Baskets. Mom had the rough choice of providing some fun for her children or paying for her monthly prescriptions. She chose to give those whom she loved a fun and memorable Holiday.

The Boy climbed on his mom’s lap as he did each evening and she read him an Easter Story. She read of Jesus and his love for all humans and how he healed the sick and fed the hungry. The Boy asked Mom why she seemed happy but her eyes were sad? Mom said that Jesus loved him, had been crucified, resurrected from the dead, and was forever alive. ‘How interesting,’ the boy said.

Easter came and mom and her boy and girl arrived at church for Sunrise Service. Their clothes were plain but adequate. They sat in the back pew and listened to the preacher. ‘Jesus forgave those who crucified him…his message was to do good to those who hurt you and to love everyone,’ said the preacher. Mom was losing her eyesight. The kids did not know. She read the stories from memory each night when the boy climbed onto her lap. She no longer could see the words. As the service ended and the many congregants walked out and on their way to Easter Brunch…the humble family waited so as to not be noticed for their poor garments. An old man was watching them from the dark corner of the church. He wore a Fedora and had a white beard. He asked Mom how she had been and she said not bad for an old lady. The Old Man laughed and tears came to his eyes and he gave her a balm. ‘Put this on your eyes when you arrive home…tell no one…

It was another day for most. Not so for her son. He had wanted to help people since he was a young boy. The other children regarded him as their big brother. He loved to work with his dad in his shop. He enjoyed fishing and of course, everyone did…but then so did his friends. Mom gave him a bedtime that he did not like very much. He had a girlfriend and she enjoyed hearing him tell his stories. He was a captivating storyteller. You could shut your eyes and soon you were transported to the location and the time of his story. He was surprisingly rooted and had a clear sense of place. Mom told him that he was special and that he had a mission on Earth. He wondered how that could be as he was a little kid and often got tired and felt sick and he hit his thumb with a hammer in dad’s shop…and he uttered a bad word…

Although he had years of experience in Dad’s Shop he planned to go into commercial fishing. He loved to catch fish. He and his girlfriend had plans to be married. They loved each other and she understood him…she was into him. He loved to walk through the hills. He loved people but he was a bit solitary and contemplative.

He enjoyed looking at clouds and the blue sky. He enjoyed camping with his dad and brothers. This is where he told many of his stories. People told him that he had a unique voice and that they enjoyed hearing him speak. He thought that his voice sounded a bit strange…but was appreciative of the compliments.

So many were following him. They hung on his every word. One time he helped to feed thousands of people. He was as surprised as anyone how the food had multiplied. He was at a wedding of a friend and they told him that they had run out of wine…he asked that they pour a fresh glass…and it was wine…

His best friend kissed his cheek and then the soldiers took him. He thought of his fiance and the multiplication of the food and the new wine. Mom told him that he had a mission…from God. He prayed…’Let this cup pass from me…not my will but thy will be done.’

‘A scene of the film Barabbas (1961) in which a total solar eclipse that occurred on February 15, 1961, was used to recreate the crucifixion darkness,’ Wikipedia.

Religious scholars tell us that darkness fell for three hours during Christ’s Crucifixion. I witnessed a solar eclipse a few years ago and it was a spiritual experience. Having worked the evening or night shifts for the majority of my career at Southern Illinois University @ Carbondale I became very fond of night. In my neck of the woods, the night is serene and peaceful and yet there is an element of danger to it. Elie Wiesel wrote of his survival in a Nazi Death Camp in his Nobel Prize-winning book…Night. I met Mr. Weisel at SIUC. He was inspiring and his eyes had a profound sadness.

The night is where we find ourselves often in our modern age. We have more labor-saving devices than ever and less contentment. Antisemitism is on the rise. Some are banning books. Others are banning art. Governors and legislatures are writing to mandate the morality that is popular with their constituents…with little heart or soul in the legislation. They seek to form the government into a theocracy that they have invented specifically to suit their political aspirations.

There is a loud political/religious cry for holiness and prayer and the theology of Us Against Them… We love the embryo and the fetus…but once the child is born it is time for them to pull themselves up by their bootstraps…or their booty straps… Children are food insecure…they are hungry…and yet when the government reaches out to ensure that they get something to eat we say that their mom and dad should get a job and feed their kids. That wish does not seem to feed the hungry children.

‘Behold, the veil of the temple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom; and the earth did quake, and the rocks rent.’

“And he said unto Jesus, Lord, remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom. And Jesus said unto him, Verily I say unto thee, To day shalt thou be with me in paradise. And it was about the sixth hour, and there was a darkness over all the earth until the ninth hour. And the sun was darkened, and the veil of the temple was rent in the midst. And when Jesus had cried with a loud voice, he said, Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit: and having said thus, he gave up the ghost. Now when the centurion saw what was done, he glorified God, saying, Certainly this was a righteous man.’

‘So we are going to call the Palm Sunday Play…Palms,’ asked Chet? ‘Yes we have a bunch of Palms that come from near the Kentucky border,’ Neva J. said. ‘Who will portray Christ,’ Jane asked? We have hired a theatre student from Southern Illinois University @ Carbondale to attend the honors, Billy B. answered. ‘I am certain that our fellow students will enjoy our rendition of Palm Sunday,’ Daryl said with a broad smile!

“I have always thought Palm Sunday was a bit sad in that it comes less than a week before Good Friday,’ Chet commented. ‘Yes…but the majesty of Palm Sunday illustrates the coming of the Messiah and how Israel missed the One for whom they had been waiting,’ Jane said. ‘You mean Easter is not all about Peter Rabbit,’ Chet asked? ‘No but he plays a role in the joys of Easter and certainly all living creatures long for Jesus’s influence on Earth,’ Neva J. responded.

The auditorium was packed. The stage had been transformed into old Jerusalem and included a donkey for the theatre student to ride on as he entered the adoring throng casting palm fronds in front of him. ‘Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord,’ they called out. ‘Where is the actor…it is almost time for him to enter stage left,’ Jane said with some worry in her voice.

‘There was a man in a long white robe standing in the wings a few minutes ago…I will ask him if he can fill in for our missing performer,’ said Chet. ‘Why yes…I will be happy to ride the donkey, said the white-robed gentleman with the beard and piercing eyes that seemed to see history.

When the mysterious man entered the stage a hush came upon the assembled audience. He looked lovingly at the audience and tears could be seen coursing down his cheeks. After the performance, the donkey rider stayed and spoke individually with each member of the cast and all who had come to see the production. He seemed to know each of them and called them by name and when their time with him was done…they felt inspired and renewed and had a purpose in their step that they did not walk in with.

‘What was the gentleman’s name,’ asked Billy B.? ‘He told me to call him JC…

‘I can not believe that it is Friday again…already,’ Neva J. exclaimed! ‘The end of the first quarter is almost here,’ Chet said. ‘Yes, and not too much longer until we take our first Pounds Hollow Swim Adventure,’ Billy B. noted. ‘There are storm warning this afternoon and tonight with the possibilities of tornadoes increasing,’ Chet added. ‘Oh no…another ride to outrun the twister,’ Neva J. laughed. ‘I hate tornadoes,’ Jane said. ‘The weatherman says to jump into the ditch…but usually, our ditches are full of water before the jumping time commences,’ Chet said with a shrug. ‘It is a bit troubling that our lives are in imminent danger for the entire spring,’ Billy B. moaned.

‘Let’s go to the Orpheum Theatre to see the Wizard Of Oz that is playing,’ Jane said with a broad smile. So…they went joyfully to the Orpheum and purchased some popcorn and cokes and even a candy bar and still had money left from the designated expense of one dollar. In the early 1960s, The Wizard Of Oz was a major theatrical event. There were life-size cardboard cutouts of Dorothy and the Tin Man and the Scarecrow and even the Cowardly Lion. The movie was as usual delightful. Billy B. fell asleep toward the conclusion of the flick and had to be shaken to awaken. The image of the twister in the movie haunted him and he was still thinking about it when the group exited the Show.

‘Where are we,’ Jane asked? ‘Well…everything is in technicolor just like the movie,’ Chet answered. ‘But what happened to Eldorado…this is not Eldorado,’ Neva J. commented. Along came three little people who greeted them and began to sing, ‘We’re off to see the Wizard…the Wonderful Wizard Of Oz!’ ‘May I help you, kids…My Prettys,’ asked a woman in a long black garment with a black pointed hat as she firmly grasped a broom in her right hand.

‘Wake up Billy B…the storm alarm is sounding,’ said Jane. As the adventurers ran out of the front doors of the Orpheum…there was a funnel cloud coming down the street…and a lovely lady named Glenda told them not to fear…

Picture perfect would describe the weather in our neck of the woods today. Spring is in the air. I walked the old streets of Herrin this morning and of course, snapped some photos. I was struck by how safe I felt and contrasted that feeling with much of our world including the United States. Things have changed. I wonder if we do not all have a virus of violence and did not realize when we contracted it. Another school shooting in Nashville, Tennessee. I have been to Nashville. Little nine-year-olds were shot and killed. Their minds were probably on summer break, friends, and some kid hijinx. They may have been studying for a book report or a math test or giggling at the funny faces each other made. They were probably thinking about a family vacation or perhaps learning how to play the piano…or art…

We are a bit insular. ‘Thank God my kids are alright…God has protected them,’ we say. Do you suppose that God did not know the names of those little nine-year-olds? ‘Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. Indeed the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.’ What about the blood-soaked hair of the nine-year-old kids?

Surveys have illustrated that the majority of Americans want common-sense gun laws. To offer no more than thoughts and prayers is a sacrilege…

When my boys were young I worried about the evil that they would encounter. Reason and patience and perseverance can diffuse and ameliorate many difficult situations…none of these skills can negotiate with a semi-automatic weapon.

Safe is a fleeting and trodden-down concept. School is not safe…nor church…nor the grocery store…nor the theatre… Our Pandemic of Violence And Fear has many causes. Common Sense Gun Laws will not solve the problem…but they will help. We paint the kitchen while the living room is on fire…

Faith helps. Trusting in a higher power provides a road map for life. ‘They took palm branches and went out to meet him, shouting, ‘Hosanna!’ ‘Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!’ ‘Blessed is the King of Israel!’

So many decry the evils of abortion and point to the fact that the child in the womb of its mother is a precious life…and must be born no matter if it is the result of rape or if it endangers the life of the mom. What about the nine-year-olds…is not their life precious…don’t they deserve action to demonstrate our thought and prayers?

Grim Reaper walks among us and he is hungry for life. Those of us who feel the safest are perhaps next on his list. The joy of Easter is coming. The benevolent and loving message of Jesus of Nazareth is in our hearts. We are preparing to color our Easter Eggs and bite the ears off of our chocolate Easter Bunnies and attend Easter Church Service and proclaim, ‘He Is Risen…He Is Risen Indeed…but not the nine-year-olds of Nashville…

Hide and Seek was a popular game when I was a child and it still is. Someone would count to ten and I would run and hide in a spot where I was certain that my seeker would not find me. Usually, I was discovered and the game continued with the seeker becoming sought. It is enjoyable to hide and believe that no one can see you. We older folks hide on a daily basis. Often we keep our true feelings and thoughts and ideas to ourselves as a form of hiding them for fear of being not accepted or perhaps even ridiculed. Have you ever wondered where are all of the brilliant thinkers when it comes to politics? Most have chosen to hide from what should be the honorable civic duty of serving in view of the glaring lights of public scrutiny and the herculean amount of money that it takes to conduct a campaign.

We are good hiders in church. Offices of service and leadership are begging for someone to hear the call and say…’Here am I Lord…send me!’ A bit of whispering and criticism we engage in when we disagree with those who did not hide…but we call it constructive.

‘Peter said unto him, Though I should die with thee, yet will I not deny thee. Likewise also said all the disciples,’

‘Now Peter sat outside the courtyard. And a servant girl came to him saying, “You also were with Jesus of Galilee.” But he denied it before them all, saying, “I do not know what you are saying.” And when he had gone out to the gateway, another girl said to those who were there, “This fellow also was with Jesus of Nazareth.” But again he denied with an oath, “I do not know the man!” And a little later those who stood by came up and said to Peter, “Surely you also are one of them, for your speech betrays you.” Then he began to curse and swear, saying, “I do not know the Man!” Immediately a rooster crowed. And Peter remembered the word of Jesus who had said to him, “Before the rooster crows, you will deny me three times.” So he went out and wept bitterly.’

Let George or Jane do it…we say with some smug satisfaction. We bemoan the shape that our society is in as we sit in the Peanut Gallery munching some roasted peanuts. We hide as we are positive that there are others who are more suited for the job…as the problems keep expanding.

‘As long as I am unseen and unheard I and my loved ones will be safe from the fascism and despots and narcissistic dictators…they will not know my true feelings and thus the storm will pass over me,’ we say as the dark clouds gather and we read the handwriting on the wall…

Thinking is fundamental. As a man thinketh so is he the Bible tells us. It has been my experience that Deep Thoughts by Jack Handy…a Saturday Night Live favorite of mine…is illustrative of one of society’s neglected vocations…thinking… If University taught me anything it taught me to think and critically analyze what surrounds me. We are in such a hurry that we fail to ponder why. The famous author of yesteryear, Ray Bradbury, said, ‘There’s no one way to be creative. Any old way will work.’

Leaders tell us that if we will only listen to them and follow their thoughts for our lives that they will lead us to the Promised Land. I wondered as a child when I saw President Johnson continue to send more and more young men to Vietnam to fight and many to die. The older folks said that when your country needs you you must answer its call. I knew that this was right in a national emergency…but was it alright for these brave soldiers to lay their lives down on the promise of trust me? I have personally witnessed pastors of churches inform their parishioners that they had a direct hotline to God and that if the flock will explicitly listen to their detailed directives…they will be saved. Of course, over many years we have studied cults and the brainwashing that occurs in them. Our politicians assure us that they have the answer and that they will fix all of our problems if we will just elect them to office. Of late some of these folks promise devastation and destruction if they are not held apart from the rest of us and respected for their Messianic Call.

It is alright to be the odd woman or man out… It is fine if you are the goat at the table of obedient sheep. It is great if you say I do not agree! Thought produces rebels. Thinking creates those who swim upstream. It is needed to ask…Why…and it is a sacred obligation to fulfilling your role as unique and your mission to understand the real reason of those in power that is behind their rhetoric.

Why are some states deciding that books must be banned? Why are politicians making the decisions regarding what art we can view?
Why are we attempting to prohibit a cultural norm that we obviously know little about and understand even less?

You know if someone tells you that you must follow their view of holiness and what is right and then laughs at your gullibility and how dumb you are…as they proceed to violate the same prohibited actions that they legislate… you are being had for a sucker and a patsy.

Time to think and reason and research and contemplate the truth of life and its prismatic facets that are ever brilliant and new to the viewer…is a profound privilege.