And in the Days After...

Find Him!

Find him!

Josias, still shaken, stood in front of the high priest and tried to calm himself down. His breathing had subsided some, but he still struggled to speak when Caiphas demanded to know why he wasn't guarding the tomb.

"It's the third day! Those....those...followers of the blasphemer could be stealing his body! Go back there at once."

"We can't," Marius said glancing towards Josiah, a silent plea for him to say something. But what was he supposed to see? He honestly had no idea what had even happened. He remember...an earthquake. And men in white clothing. Then suddenly, he awoke laying on the ground. Had he been dreaming? He would have thought so, until he saw the stone rolled away from the entrance and cracked in to large pieces. A quick inspection of the burial place would confirm the body of that Jew was gone.

"You can't? What do you mean you can't?"

Josias cut in. "Because—because there's nothing to guard."

Caiphas' eyes grew large and he stumbled backwards, shocked at the words uttered out of Josias' mouth. Josias hadn't even offered an explanation yet, but it seem as if the high priest already knew what he was speaking of. Nonetheless, Josias said, "The criminal. His body's gone. There was an earthquake, and men in white clothing..."

"Nonsense!" Caiphas shouted, banging his hand on the desk next to him.

Nothing to guard. Nothing to guard. Nothing to guard! What did that even mean? Caiphas knew. Deep down, he knew, and he despised the thoughts he was having. Those...followers of that blasphemer. They did this. Maybe the guards were even part of this Jesus group. Maybe they were lying.

Caiphas glanced over at the two soldiers as they walked hurriedly along to the supposedly empty tomb. Both of them appeared fidgety and scared. Were they hiding something? Caiphas would prefer they did, so he could question them there and now and have answers.

Father God, I pray that this blasphemer may be still in the tomb where he lay dead two days before. He is a sinner, who takes your name in vain, and doesn't deserve to be looked on and talked about by others. He deserves to be dead and buried. Please let him be.

"Here we are," the brown-headed soldier stated.

Caiphas didn't look up yet--just watched his footing. He grasped tightly onto a passing tree. His hands shook. Most likely because he was worried about tripping--not about the supposed King of Jews. He was dead. In the tomb. Buried. Dead. Done.

"See?" the Roman stated. "Nothing's here."

"Silence!" Caiphas shouted, too angry to listen to anyone talk. He just needed to observe the scene himself. And so he did.

They were right. At least about one part. The tomb rock lay on the ground, cracked in two large pieces. The posted notice tossed far away. He could still read the words, even from that distance, "Here lay Jesus, the said King of the Jews. By order of Pontius Pilate, this tomb shall not be disturbed."

But disturbed it was.

Slowly, step by step, Caiphas made his way into the tomb. He wasn't supposed to, though. He was the high priest, and this was Passover. He shouldn't be interacting with places of the dead.

But he had to. He felt his God was drawing him towards the tomb, to investigate and figure out the truth. Not the Jews' God. His.

Taking a deep breath, Caiphas entered the tomb, fully expecting the body of Jesus to be there. Fully expecting himself ready to pull his robe over his face and mask the smell and sight of blood and decaying flesh. Fully expecting himself to turn his head away in disgust at the Jew, to tell the others, "I told you so" and go celebrate Passover.

But there was no body. Only folded garments.

The blasphemer had been stolen.

He grit his teeth in anger. He remember that Friday night better than any day of his life. He'd watched Nazorean writhe and moan in pain. He'd even recollected the prediction Jesus had said a while ago, that he will destroy the temple, yet in three days raise it up. Ha. Raise up the temple, when he could not even come down from his cross.

But that image of a temple crashing brought-forth a new picture of destruction. Fire. Shaking. The temple curtain tearing. Caiphas had been in the temple that night. Praying as any good Jew would do. His praying had been interrupted, then, by intense shaking. He remembered grabbing on to a pillar tightly, begging God to save himself and the temple. His prayer had been answered with sacred incense being spilled over onto the ground, lanterns tipping and erupting in flames, and the curtain tearing completely in half. After that, the temple floor had cracked in two, separating him from the other high priests.

Then, silence. Caiphas didn't remember much then. He remembered reflecting back to that blasphemer's words. But he had not caused this. God had. And every day, Caiphas begged his God to forgive the sins of others who angered him so. He begged God to not be so angry with others, and then thanked him for allowing Caiphas to not be one of those horrid sinners.

 Surely prayer like that would have God not be so angry.

"So where is he?" one soldier asked, interrupting Caiphas' thoughts.

Only one word came into his mind: "Stolen."

Both Romans looked at each other, then said, together, "Stolen?"

"By his followers. That is what you must tell them." Caiphas marched over to the brown-haired soldier and looked him directly into the face, making sure he understood what Caiphas was saying to him. "You must tell them—everyone, those who ask and those who don't—that this King of the Jews has been stolen by his followers in order to fulfill what he said once before. If you tell anyone about the so called figures you saw here, I will report you for lying, as well as other crimes, and I will make sure you are punished. If, however, you manage to keep your sightings a secret, and tell everyone—and I mean, everyone, your fellow Roman soldiers included—you both will be paid handsomely. Is that understood? Tell everyone he has been stolen—nothing else. Then, find the body. This criminal is somewhere. Leave no stone unturned. They—his followers, got that? His followers—are hiding him somewhere, and you will not rest until he is found."

"Yes, high priest," the soldiers answered, but remained still. They were clearly bewildered.

"Now! Tamshikh! Find him!"

They hurried off.