The World He Claims, Claimed Him Part 2

We die one at a time and disappear, but the life of the living continues. The earth turns. The sun makes its way towards the western horizon no slower or faster than it usually does... Early Sunday morning, one of the Jesus fidus Achates comes back with rags and a jug of water and a box of the grave spices that are intended to cut down on the stench of death. She is braced for the task. But when she comes to the grave, she finds that the linen’s been thrown into the corner and the body is gone. Fervently she cries out “They have taken away my Lord, and I know not where they have laid Him.” Evidently anonymous burial is not quite anonymous enough, after all. She sits outside in the sun. The gnats, the flies and all manner of insects have come to life throughout the area, even here at the edge of the desert, and a bee is rummaging about in a lily like silk thinly tucked over itself, but much more perishable. It will not last long. She takes no notice of the feet that appear at the edge of her vision. That is enough now, she thinks. That is more than enough. Do not be afraid, says Jesus. Far more can be mended than you know. She is weeping. The “executee,” the victim of the execution, helps her to stand up. 

 [SA1]