"Did he return?"
His friend's voice was the only interruption to the monotonous sound of two pairs of feet on the dirt road, now dry and dusty.
"Simon, you mean?"
"Simon, yes. Or John."
"Yes," he answered, "John came back. He found nothing."
"Nothing?"
In his depression, his friend's prodding was irritating. More irritating than it should have been, he knew. He sighed.
"Only the head cloth."
"No angels."
He allowed his friend's half-question to remain unanswered. It hung in the air, sounding more like a statement.
They walked on, the Judean wind, hot and dusty, pulling at their clothes and turbans. How long they walked in silence, he didn't know. They were alone in their thoughts, and alone on the road, aside from a lone traveler far behind them. The exodus from Jerusalem after Passover had not yet begun.
Darkness gripped the man's soul. The despair in his thoughts tortured him and made the road seem to stretch into eternity.
"What will you do now?"
A lump formed in his throat. Nothing. There was nothing left to do.
"Nothing. Nothing new. I guess I will..."
"Go back."
"Yes."
That was all there was now. His old life. His gut wrenched at the thought of it. Before, when he was with the Rabbi, he had told himself his life would never be the same. The mundane-ness and depression of his old life was gone.
He had loved the adventure of it all, following the Teacher at a moment's notice up mountains and across the country, into cities and deserts.
But he knew now that that was not what had made him happy. That was not what had changed his life.
The lump grew, and it hurt.
His friend broke into his thoughts. "I thought he was the Anointed, Cleophas."
Please stop, he thought. He only wanted to forget, but his friend didn't hear his thoughts.
"I thought that today we would be watching him sit on the throne, not...."
His friend didn't need to finish. The ache in his chest swelled and tears blurred the horizon in front of him as the vision of their dead leader flashed into his mind.
He didn't want to remember, because now he knew. Only now, when he had lost it all, did he realize how much had been lost. The traveling and the preaching had not changed him. It had been fulfilling and exciting at first, but the excitement had eventually worn off.
He saw now what had changed in his own soul, and he could only see it now because now it was gone. He had found a reason to live. He had, for three years, known what it meant to love God. The Rabbi taught them that. Now he could never get that back.
He spoke haltingly, trying not to weep with the emptiness he felt inside. Tears streamed down his face nevertheless.
"Me, too. I already miss him. Did you feel what I felt when he spoke?"
"I don't know what you mean," answered his friend.
"When I was with him, I felt different, Yosef. I felt clean. I felt holy. When I was with him, when I heard him pray, I wanted to know Adonai. Like I never had before."
"Yeshua knew Adonai. He was...he was holy."
"He was."
He was. And now he was no more. And I do not feel holy anymore, he thought. I do not desire to know Adonai anymore, not like I did.
"He didn't deserve that, Yosef." He said it softly. "He didn't deserve it. How could Adonai let it end like this?"
Shame and despair gripped his heart again.
How could God let him be stripped naked like that? Beaten with such brutality? Crucified! Where were you, Adonai?
He looked over at his friend, now sobbing softly. As if reading his own thoughts, Yosef asked him, his voice cracking, "Where is Adonai now, my brother?
They both wept quietly. The monotonous sound of footfalls was louder now, for the pilgrim behind them was a faster walker, and he was now overtaking them.
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From Zach: Obviously, the most beautiful parts of this story are not here yet, but on this Easter Sunday, it's easy for me to imagine what these men might have felt as they went home defeated and despairing on that Sunday close to 2,000 years ago. There might be more to come from me, but the rest (and the best) of the story is in Luke 24.
God bless you!
