And yet on a particular Sunday two thousand years ago, wasn’t it just another mundane day?
The Jewish Sabbath had ended after Saturday’s light faded into darkness across first-century Palestine. Was that Sunday a morning where coolness lingered, providing a brief respite from the day’s inevitable heat? Or—as women hurried to make the first trip to lift cooking water from the wells or men trudged toward a field to capture wandering sheep—did sweat already slick cheeks before the new day’s mean-spirited sun cleared the horizon?
* * *
Just another morning?
A Roman Centurion gazed at the empty desert sky, wondering what Rome really looked like. He’d never been there.
The blacksmith stoked his fire. An order for nails today. Thick ones. Long ones. Damn Romans and their damn demands.
While his youngest daughter trimmed his beard, a Jerusalem shopkeeper debated about raising his prices. After all, the demands would increase as the crowds multiplied around Passover. Continue reading →