Well, I have to admit I am guilty of not really listening or understanding the point of this particular contemplative exercise. I perceived it as a third person retelling, or a screen play inventory. I had done tons of that for some projects of my past and was quite content with my experience of such.I never heard or saw a first person example. But I do now understand how such might be a channel for revelation.
Here’s what I was working toward last night. I am no James Joyce…I fear too many readings of his “bests” have cured me of “the stream.” So, yes, I do not chase words on the page…I am far too prolific in such, too easily wood down tributaries. You would have novellas at every turn, though poor in construct.
Here was my best surrendered effort to the imagine yourself within thing.
“Send him into me.”
“Your business with me?”
“The body, of Jesus of Nazareth. May I have it?”
“What do you wish to do with it?”
“Lay him in my sepulcher, sir. It is not far from here.”
Pilate eyes me carefully. “It seems the least…,” I stumble.
Pilate’s eyes do not soften nor harden.
“He deserved my, this I can do, with your permission.”
“Strange, not three days ago, I sought yours to free this very man.”
“ I am aware, sir.”
“How much alike are we? all powerful and yet unable,” he muses.
He holds my eyes, in search companionship I believe, not absolution.
“Make I take him, sir?”
“Please, please take him, good man.”
“Oh, that I had been.”
How much like Pilate and Joseph, whose last words on the subject betray their right reckoning of Christ, am I?