When you appeared that evening, seemingly out of thin air,
Your terrified disciples cowering in fear behind the
locked door,
Surely you noticed who was missing. I don’t mean
Thomas,
Who doubted,
Who might have been there but wasn’t.
You were, perhaps, looking for someone else,
Hoping he had changed his mind,
Stayed with the others,
Observed the sabbath,
Dismissed the morning’s mourning women who had likewise found
you missing.
When you appeared that evening, exhausted from the work
of resurrection,
Your hands, your feet still bloodied and barely scabbed
over,
Your side a gaping, open wound,
Surely you noticed who was missing. I mean
Judas,
Who had no doubts,
Who should have been there but couldn’t.
You were, perhaps, looking for him.
You could not have known that while
You had taken upon yourself all the world’s guilt and sin,
He had shouldered his own repentance and remorse.
One violent act done to each of you.
When you appeared that evening, radiant with new life,
Grace, forgiveness, love embodied,
Surely you noticed who was missing. I mean
The one
Who most needed you
To look into the eyes of his tortured soul and whisper,
“Peace be with you.”
