Bitterness coated Thomas’ tongue. He stood in the room where just days ago he and his friends had celebrated the Passover with Jesus. Although his Lord had seemed melancholy and spoke of betrayal and denial, Thomas would never have predicted later events. No one could have. Unable to be still, he paced from door to window and back again.
Andrew approached him, but Thomas turned away. He did not have the patience to hear the man’s gentle consolation again. For three years they had followed the man he had come to believe was the Messiah. Thomas had left a good carpentry business to follow Jesus’ calling. He had left his family and friends to wander homeless with a man who had challenged authority and flirted with death. Now the authorities and death had caught him and Thomas was an outlaw. He should never have left home.
Guilt seeped through the bitterness. No, he was glad to have left. No matter how badly things had turned out, he had seen things and done things that were beyond belief. He paused in his pacing and from the shelter of the shadows looked out the latticed window. A squad of Roman soldiers marched by in close formation, their spears and shield held ready.
Three days after laying Jesus’ body in the ground, the city still huddled in fear. People cleaning up the rubble left from the earthquake still stole glances at the sky which had gone dark for hours not so long ago. Pharisees and Sadducees refused to leave the temple or perform their normal duties. There were whispers of the Great Veil tearing from top to bottom and the Holy of Holies open to everyone’s view. God was surely angry at the death of Jesus.
Cheerful humming broke into Thomas’ dark thoughts. He watched as Mary the Magdalene walked, practically danced, over to John and offered him a cup of wine. Thomas narrowed his eyes as the two shared a secret smile. It wasn’t right for John to humor her that way. The poor woman’s mind had snapped that morning .
The women hadn’t been able to do a thorough anointing of Jesus’ body before the Sabbath began. This morning, a group had gone to finish the job as soon as the sun rose. They had all come back shortly afterwards hysterical and raving about angels and His missing body. Peter and John had gone to the tomb and verified that the body was gone but were quiet when they returned.
Mary had come back much later, singing and dancing. She spoke of seeing Jesus himself, not dead, but alive. She claimed he had spoken to her and called her by name. Peter didn’t say much, still berating himself for denying Jesus during the trial. John sided with Mary, claiming that the Lord has risen. At least John didn’t claim to have spoken with a dead man. Thomas thought that the soldiers had taken the body and desecrated it further just to show they could.
Thomas stalked over to the two of them. “You should not carry on so, it is not right to make light of others sorrow.”
“Thomas, what do you mean?” John looked puzzled. “Why should there be sorrow among us when our Lord has conquered Death itself?”
“He has not conquered death, He is dead. Let us mourn Him properly.” A muscle in Thomas’ jaw clenched. They were unreasonable.
“Jesus did conquer death. Were you not standing with us when he raised Jarius’ daughter, or the son of the widow in Nain? Did you not see our friend Lazarus when he emerged from his tomb?”
Thomas shrugged. “I saw those things , but it is one thing to be filled with God’s holy power and raise someone else from the dead. Elijah and Elisha also raised people from the dead. But no one can raise themselves.”
“But I saw Him, Jesus appeared to me in the garden and spoke to me.” The light in Mary’s face dimmed. “Why don’t you believe me?” she placed her hand on Thomas’s arm and her eyes pleaded with him to understand.
“You are deluded by your grief. You want Jesus back so badly, you imagined him speaking.” Thomas pulled away from her touch and unlocking the door, descended into the street. Wrapping his headscarf across his face he stalked away.
To Be Continued. . .