From the Dark of Saturday

I have this sinking feeling that what happened in the last few days will be imprinted on my mind, my memory, and my spirit for the rest of my life.

It started so well. We held the seder right here in this room. It was the thirteen of us, as usual, though the evening was far from usual, even for us. I know he's said some strange things over the years, but that night... Wow, I was sure he was sick. Maybe just exhausted. Whatever it was, he made no sense- talking about his broken body and his blood poured out. What??? Then he wanted to wash my feet. What was that? He's the Rabbi. It's my job to serve him! He wouldn't hear of it.

*sigh*

Then there was that comment about me denying him. Oh, how I wish I had been listening. How I wish I had been stronger, less fearful, less... me. I keep doing that. Telling him, "No, Lord, you are IT. Nothing is gonna take you down. Nothing is going to make you less than what you are, and if they try, I will fight." I thought that was how I was supposed to be. I'm the strong one. I'm the one who wants to bring about this change he's always talking about. But when I talk like that, he tells me I'm wrong. He says it's about serving. He says it's not about kingdoms on earth... I don't get it.

Here's what I know. The twelve of us gave the last three years of our lives to follow this man. We were so sure he was the one. And now he's dead.

So here we are again, in this room where it started two days ago. Thirteen then, eleven now. One is buried in a tomb not far from here. The other? No one has seen him since that horrible moment in the garden. One of my finest moments, I thought. Twelve of us. One traitor. Ten ran off into the night. Only I stood. I fought. I even cut off a guard's ear! No matter. He told me, again, to cut it out. He put the ear back on. And he went with them.

I'm not sure how I got here. I remember following- at a safe distance. I remember the noises, the smells, the crazy mob wanting to kill him. I remember the rooster, then his words flooded back into my mind. I had told him I'd die for him. I'd never deny him! And I meant it, too. I just wasn't thinking about dying the very next day. But after that rooster... I bolted, just like the others. I spent the rest of the night wandering the streets, afraid of my own shadow. Somehow I found my way here.

We compared notes a while ago. Turns out John was there when he died. Figures. I guess if any of us was going to be there, it would have been John. He's the only one of us who isn't overthrown with guilt right now. All of us are scared and confused. We've spent this day huddled in this room. The doors are barred. We've lit no lamps. Every noise outside makes us jump. Three years. He's gone. It's so... final. Devastating.

No, I haven't thought past today. I sure as anything have no idea about what I'll do now. I guess Andrew and I will go back to fishing. It's what we know. Don't make me think about that right now, though.

It's so quiet in here. Every few minutes there's the sound of a man crying. The others are in their little groups. There was yelling earlier. John was the sane one, of course. "We're all scared. We're all confused. Let's not take it out on each other." Even John can't answer our questions, though. I can't even look at the others. I was the one yelling, I think, though I don't know why. They shouldn't have run. Why weren't they there? Well what was I supposed to do- let the mob in the courtyard kill me too, just because I knew him? I need to get out of here. Away from them. But I have nowhere to go, so I stay inside.

May this day, this pain, end soon.