Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Fictional Scripture Reflection from Matthew 27:62ff


The Lie

“Take the money,” said the centurion.
“But that’s not how it happened,” protested the youthful military guard squatting on the ground. Head cradled in his hands he retorted, “I wasn’t sleeping on the job!”
“Did I say you were?” The centurion having mustered a change of guard found his men struck to the ground paralyzed when he returned with the fresh cohort. As the temple guards came to, their incoherent gibberish about a blinding light forced him to use his authority to silence the men.
“Look, we’re covered as long as we stick to the same story.” He pleaded with the boy, “If you don’t go along with us you’ll make everybody suspicious.”
The tow headed kid wrapped his arms around his knees and dug his chin into them rocking back and forth. “I gotta think this over,” he mumbled. Still half paralyzed from his ordeal, he tried to push the fearful memory out of his head. He wondered how he could he lie about an earthquake? Didn’t everybody feel the ground shake? Who could have slept through that! And then the massive stone moving by itself, nobody pushing it. So eerie . . .and that blinding figure of a man, a warrior?
“Think what over?” the exasperated leader began to pace back and forth waiting for the boy to realize his tenuous position. He added, “Would anybody believe your story?”
The boy’s stomach churned. This is all wrong, he thought, trying to avoid the rationalizations. “I know, but . . .”
The older man held out the money, waiting. The eighteen year old stood up and turned his head to stare at the empty tomb. The rest of the squad having taken the bribe had already left. They were used to irregularities. No doubt they were already in town partying. The boy turned back to the frustrated senior officer who, having lost patience, laid the gold coins on the rock ledge beside him. “I’ll expect you back at the barracks by 0600 tomorrow. That’ll give you enough time to think”
Left alone, the boy reached for the money. Instead of stuffing it into his shirt, he hollowed out a space between the stones to bury it. As if this freed him from responsibility, he slowly stripped off his uniform down to his bleached tunic and hid the rest of his gear in the thick underbrush behind the tomb. Still weak kneed from his ordeal he sat down on the stone in front of the cave’s maw. His decision not to lie sent him into fitful musings. When dawn broke, the rising sun sparked between his blonde ringlets. Its light gave him a handsome angelic aura.
A soft rustle broke the morning’s silence. Nerves taut he turned toward the sound, but it was just a young woman. Stepping hesitantly into the clearing, she approached casting fearful glances at the open tomb, then at him. He knew what she was looking for. He couldn’t lie. “He’s not here,” he found himself saying out loud. “He is risen.”   


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