The sun had long since set. There was enough chill in the air, I didn’t look out of place with my cloak flipped over my head. At the Sanhedrin, we talked often about the reports of people healed by an itinerant preacher, Jesus of Nazareth. Was he from God or a worker of the dark arts? He says he’s the Son of Man, the same name as the great prophet Ezekiel. Men claiming they are the Messiah rise up for a time, but then are put down by the Romans. They stink of violence.
Beautiful, Katie. I hope that you are going to publish these interpretive imaginings into a book, I so love them, and I would love to have a whole book of them. Please keep them coming!
Beautiful, Katie. I hope that you are going to publish these interpretive imaginings into a book, I so love them, and I would love to have a whole book of them. Please keep them coming!
Beautiful writing, Katie. Truly inspired.
I find your writings beautiful, spare, genuine. Thank you for this blessing. It takes me to the scene in a rush.