That he still bore scars is what I’ve always thought so beautiful. It’s what’s intrigued me more than almost anything else all these years about the story so many celebrate at Easter all over the world, believers, half-believers, unbelievers too. The story of resurrection, the idea of it, the hope of it.
Jesus had just been saying some mysterious things about the final advent of the Son of Man—a time when we will desire to see him, but will not be able, a time of false signs, scoffers, and the indifferent.