*Commentator clears throat, taps mic*
Ladies and gentlemen, we’re in the middle of one of the greatest pauses in the history of our brief humanoid existence. This pause is so long that the villains of our story think it is actually the end, and some of the protagonists are about to give up. It is a predicted pause that, now that we’re in the middle of it, seems very implausible. Let me do a brief recap for the sake of those of you just joining us.
Last night, there was a blood moon. Some of you are familiar with this phenomenon, because it has been used as a cinematic device in many fantasy movies (e.g Hansel and Gretel). Some are aware of the science behind it: lunar eclipse. But not many of you know today’s blood moon was caused by an actual event: a god-man’s blood has just been shed.
The details of his death are plain for all to see: a twist of events that made a crowd that shouted support for him do a u-turn and choose a criminal over him (never trust a mob), a classic betrayal with a kiss and a scattering of allies because the god man was the glue holding their collectively fragile psyches together.
No one who knew this god man and his manipulations of the laws of nature could have predicted this. A man who once stretched out a red carpet for himself on a raging sea, and pioneered the alchemy of making delicious fermented juice out of that banal 2:1 combination of hydrogen and oxygen now hangs in the open air, helpless, waiting for birds to come and strip his bones of once-aclamied-to-be-supernatural flesh.
To be frank with you, the blood moon is the reason many of us are still in this arena, holding our breaths, waiting to see what comes after the pause. Are his spurious claims, hidden under the not-so-subtle metaphor of desstorying a temple in three days, true? Is there any other spectacle waiting on the horizon? Will this pause peter into the perpetual silence of grief, or will it give way to the roaring noise of revived hope?
We shall wait to see the end of this. But while we wait, remember that hope can be deferred, sometimes defeated, but often, it defies the throes of despair and leads to triumphant unending joy.
This blood moon hangs in the sky, loaded with the question that holds the hope of many at ransome: will the god-man rise again?
Featured image via Flickr by Flickr | Hanzler’s Warped Visions