Who am I?

I am the unsung disciple. One of the 10 who’s names are not mentioned in the days after the crucifixion and miracle. You have heard the story of John and Peter and that bastard son, Judas.

We are so afraid. It has settled into our midst like bad meat brings a stone in the stomach. If we could vomit, would it be better? We talk and ask endless questions to which there are no answers. What have we done? We have given our lives to a lie. How do we make this right? How do we face our fathers? our mothers? How do we get this time back? Andrew’s mother died a year ago and he did not mourn her or bury her. How does he tell his father of his sorrow?

Then we are angry. We have given our lives to a lie. This Jesus was to be the once and future king. Instead he did nothing to defend himself, he walked to his death like a criminal. What have we done? What shall we do? How do we make this right?

The women are in the next room crying and hugging. They can go back. They will find men to care for them. We have given everything away and now it is all gone. All of it. Where is our king? Dead.

But who is coming into the room now. Well, this looks like him and sounds like him.

But it cannot be! He was dead not three days ago.

The excited talking and laughing and greeting. It makes the past couple of days disappear. But … maybe not. Thomas is asking the questions that are on all of our minds, but we dare not ask. He is still angry and betrayed. Truth be told, so am I. But I want this new/old reality so badly I can taste it. I am willing to go along with everyone else and be happy. But I still have these questions. I still feel betrayed by the leaving. I’m still angry. I still do not know how to live. When will we know those things?

Thomas seems to understand that. He is braver than I am and willing to face Jesus; ask him the hard questions we all have been asking these long days and nights. Peter and John … well, they came in with Jesus. They always do. I don’t know whether to admire those two for their holiness, or despise them for their sanctimony. But they are glued to Jesus’ side, like they cannot draw breath unless they copy him. They have no questions, they never do.

Me … well … He is alive again! But I still don’t know how to live.