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My very own, personal Jiminy Cricket, better known as my conscience, reminded me the other day of something that I had been taking for granted: the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus Christ - a fact that the Catholic Church has been giving testimony to for almost two-thousand years.
In all actuality, it is something that I take for granted every time I make Burger King's slogan my creed: Have it your way.
I then remember the sad song sang during the Stations of Cross during each Lent: "Were You There When They Crucified My Lord?"
At this point, I jump into my secret time machine, my imagination, and set the dials for 33 A.D., and find myself in the dry, arid Middle East.
I find myself in a crowd of dark-skinned people, dirty with the desert sand sticking to their sweaty skin like flies on fly paper, all walking in the same direction. Silence is not here; it is anywhere but here.
Insults are being slung at this man, crowned with thorns, like trash into garbage cans. Yet he says nothing in reply.
Ahead is a hill, and it appears as if that is the direction the mob scene is headed. Once the destination is reached, the guards force this man onto his back onto the wooden cross he had been carrying.
They then drive long metal spikes through his wrists and feet. A sign is fixed on the cross just above his head, which reads: "Jesus Christ: King of the Jews." The cross is then lifted upright for all to see.
The crowd's shouts grow louder, telling him, "If you are the Christ, then save yourself!" His lips move, and I hear his faint voice crack, and say, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do!"
Shortly after, he lifts his heavy eyes up to the dark skies and screams: "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?!" I recognize this as a song recorded in the Old Testament book of Psalms.
Then he says, "Father, into your hands I commend my spirit," and his head falls, and his chest stops heaving; he is dead.
Depression sets in, and the days slowly roll by.
Three days later, though, rumor has it that this man's tomb is empty. I simply cannot believe it, but I am soon proven wrong when I see it with my own eyes.
What has happened to him?
Who stole his body?
Who moved the stone?
Questions such as these plague my desperate mind, but there are never any answers.
I find his eleven remaining Apostles and Mother hiding in a room at the top of a building when all of a sudden, the very man I saw dead on the hill appeared to us and says, "Peace be with you!"
Joy sets in, as the realization that everything he said about his dying and rising life is actually true!
Suddenly, my time machine takes me back home, and I find myself with a deep sense of gratitude and thanks. I promise to never again take this historical moment for granted again.
Then, Jiminy pokes me with his tiny umbrella and tells me, "I am here to help you do just that!"
Joe Muir is an Eastern rite Catholic who is actively involved in volunteer/missions work, traveling the world and continues to discern his vocation. He currently resides in Pittsburgh, PA...for now.