108. One of Many Centurions (Ryan Wilson)
"Redneck paradoxes"
He ido a St. Ann’s el Jueves Santo. Tienen un crucifijo que me encanta. He caído que es un Cristo vivo, aún sin la llaga de la lanza, sin ninguna herida, casi resucitado…
… y me he acordado del libro que he estado leyendo estos días The Mystery of Christ: Life in Death, que dice:
The Resurrection of Christ was not depicted in early Christian art until the end of the seventh century. The triumph of Christ over death was represented instead by the depiction of the triumphant, living Lord on the cross, the empty tomb, and his appearances to the myrrh-bearing women. Only later, perhaps in the ninth century, as images of the Resurrection became more prevalent, did the conservative iconographic tradition produce an image of the dead Christ on the cross.
ONE OF MANY CENTURIONS
Ryan Wilson
Guilt's funny. Magic, some say. He was kneeling,
Blindfolded. We took turns and, laughing, punched
Him, slapped and punched him, daring him to guess
Our names, a legionary's cloak concealing
His eyes. Like we could see... Silent, he hunched
There: jaws, ribs cracked. We cackled. I confess
We thought him something of a pedascule.
He wasn't like us. Redneck paradoxes
And parables: seeds, fig trees, wheat and chaff.
When backwoods bullies bloodied me in school,
I camouflaged my rage, red as a fox is,
Awaiting my revenge. I couldn't laugh,
Though, seeing him, limbs nailed up, crucified—
Hill dark, blood pouring, his arms open wide.