The Resurrection By Pat Garcia, German Translation By Juliane Eppendahl

The Cross Before The Empty Tomb


They ran through the streets, shouting,
Hosanna, Hosanna!
Sounds reverberated like an echo.

Hilarious, crazed laughter over what they thought was coming.
And why not?
Their king was riding on a donkey,
Ready to free them from slavery and oppression
And the yoke that had drugged them down,
Since they had been subjugated into serfdom

Hosanna, they cried out! Hosanna!
Too caught up in the delirium to care about the soldiers.
Free at last!

They were ready to kill
To regain their rightful status.
Their bloodthirst knew no bounds.
Free, free, free at last!

By noon, Friday
The song had changed.
No more Hosanna, Hosanna.
One by one, each had sneaked away to his own home.
Candles snuffed out quickly.
Although it was the Passover
Association quickly became disassociation.

Doors locked,
Darkness blackened the day like midnight.
They hadn’t wanted a cross.
No whipping,
No nails,
Not for him.
He was supposed to lead them to war.
But not a crucifixion!

Streets emptied.
People cowered in their homes with their heads bowed.
Fearing to be known as His follower.

On the third day,
The sun rose.
Something inexplicable had happened.
Baffled by the news, two men talked about it on the way to their village.
Downcast, they didn’t know what to think.
A stranger joined them and listened in.
They paid no attention to Him as they wallowed in their sorrow.
“What are you discussing?” He asked.
They shook their heads in disbelief that the Stranger hadn’t heard.
So dreary seemed their days ahead, but they informed him.

Reaching their village, they offered the Stranger their hospitality.
The Stranger accepted and took over as host.
As the Stranger broke the bread, they recognized him.
The greatest miracle of all stood right before them.
And they rushed back to Jerusalem to tell the others,
“He that was dead is now alive.”

“Yes,” said Cleopas.
“That what went into the ground has risen.”

“Hallelujah,” said the other,
“He’s triumphant over all!”

“Where, O death, is your victory?
Where, O death, is your sting?”




Sie liefen durch die Straßen und riefen
“Hosianna, Hosianna!”
Die Rufe hallten wie ein Echo wider.

Ausgelassen lachten sie über das, was da zu kommen schien.
Und warum auch nicht?
Ihr König ritt auf einem Esel,
bereit, sie von Sklaverei und Unterdrückung zu befreien
und von dem Joch, das sie niedergedrückt hatte.
seit sie in die Knechtschaft gezwungen worden waren.

“Hosianna”, riefen sie, “Hosianna!”
Zu sehr im Rausch gefangen, um sich noch um die Soldaten zu scheren.
Endlich frei!

Sie waren bereit zu töten,
um ihren rechtmäßigen Stand wiederzuerlangen.
Ihr Blutdurst kannte keine Grenzen.
Frei, frei, endlich frei!

Am Freitagmittag
hatte sich das Lied geändert.
Kein “Hosianna, Hosianna” mehr.
Einer nach dem anderen hatte sich nach Hause geschlichen.
Die Kerzen waren schnell erloschen.
Obwohl es das Passahfest war,
wurde aus der Assoziation schnell eine Dissoziation.

Türen wurden verschlossen,
Dunkelheit verdüsterte den Tag wie Mitternacht.
Ein Kreuz hatten sie nicht gewollt.
Keine Auspeitschung,
keine Nägel,
nicht für ihn.
Er sollte sie in den Krieg führen.
Aber nicht in eine Kreuzigung!

Die Straßen leerten sich.
Die Menschen kauerten mit gesenktem Kopf in ihren Häusern.
Sie fürchteten, als seine Anhänger erkannt zu werden.

Am dritten Tag,
ging die Sonne auf.
Etwas Unerklärliches war geschehen.
Verblüfft von der Nachricht unterhielten sich zwei Männer auf dem Weg in ihr Dorf darüber.
In ihrer Bedrückung wussten sie nicht, was sie denken sollten.
Ein Fremder gesellte sich zu ihnen und hörte zu.
Versunken in ihrer Trauer, schenkten sie ihm keine Beachtung.
“Wovon redet ihr?” fragte er.
Sie schüttelten ungläubig den Kopf, dass der Fremde es nicht gehört hatte.
Ihre kommenden Tage versprachen trostlos zu werden, aber dennoch erzählten sie es ihm.

Als sie ihr Dorf erreichten, boten sie dem Fremden ihre Gastfreundschaft an.
Er willigte ein und übernahm die Rolle des Gastgebers.
Als der Fremde das Brot brach, erkannten sie ihn.
Das größte Wunder von allen stand direkt vor ihnen.
Und sie eilten zurück nach Jerusalem, um es den anderen zu erzählen.
Er, der tot war, ist jetzt lebendig.

“Ja”, sagte Kleopas.
Das, was in die Erde einging, ist auferstanden.

“Halleluja”, sagten die anderen,
“Er hat über alles gesiegt!”

“Tod, wo ist dein Sieg? Tod, wo ist dein Stachel?”


Shalom aleichem,

Pat Garcia

*Bible Verse taken from the New International Version of 1984, First Corinthians 15:55

*Bibelverse wurden zitiert aus der Lutherbibel 2017, 1. Korinther 15,55).

Author: patgarcia

Writer, Blogger, Poet, Singer, Musician

24 thoughts on “The Resurrection By Pat Garcia, German Translation By Juliane Eppendahl”

  1. Wonderful poem, and the reminder I needed after Easter celebration. When we go back to work it’s hard sometimes to keep in mind the WHY of our celebration, and that the celebration lives on, even after the festivities. Like Peter, who had to be reminded by the Lord that he wasn’t just a fisherman anymore, but now called to feed His sheep. Thank you!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Hi JEN,
      Thank you for dropping by. Forgive me for just responding. Sometimes my workload prohibits a sooner respone. Yes, it is hard to keep in mind the WHY of our celebration. It is sometimes difficult to focus. I think Peter is a great example of the forgetfulness of mankind. Like Peter many of us get out of the boat and start walking on water but we stop focusing and have to cry out for help. The Lord helped him and Peter didn’t drown. So, focusing is a necessary tool to execute in our faith, but that requires a diligence that I am still learning.
      Have a lovely weekend and take care.
      Shalom aleichem


    1. Good Morning Shirley,
      That was no problem. You cannot imagine how many times I overlook something. We’re human, and I believe that’s allowed.
      Have a great start in the week.
      Shalom aleichem


  2. What a nice way to wake up on Easter morning. Pat, do you speak German? Hope I’m not asking a dumb question. Thank you so much for sharing this inspirational reading.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Good Morning Shirley,
      Thank you so much for visiting. No, you didn’t ask a dumb question. In my book, there are no dumb questions. We are all learning as we go. In answer to your question, Yes, I do speak fluent German. However, my German is not good enough to translate the arts regardless of whether it is a book or a poem into German. I don’t have the cultural finesse that one is brought up with when they are raised in the country. Juliane is a dear friend and we go to the same church. She translates from English into German whenever we have visitors from the United States, the U.K., Australia, or New Zealand. I love how she understands my emotions and is, therefore, able to give me back the translation that is exactly what I am trying to express. She is a great woman, and I treasure her very much.
      Shalom aleichem


    1. Good Morning Robbie,
      Thank you and I hope you had a lovely Easter. Good Friday is a holiday here as well as Easter Sunday and today, which is Easter Monday and I have been enjoying it greatly.
      Have a great start in the week.
      Shalom aleichem

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Good Morning Yvette,
      Thank you very much. Because I live in Germany, which belongs to the European Union, many of my readers are Germans, some Italians, and. Spanish, Austrians, and even in Switzerland. Mostly on special holidays like Christmas and Thanksgiving, and Easter, and Mother’s Day whenever I have something on my heart that I want to share, I blog. Even though I speak fluent German, I don’t have the finesse to translate because my cultural upbringing was not in Germany. So, I have whatever I write translated by a dear friend of mines who is a translator and who is acquainted with my heart and my emotional world. My European readers are happy and therefore I am too.
      Have a great week.
      Shalom aleichem

      Liked by 2 people

  3. You’ve brought me to tears, dear Pat. Thank you for sharing your beautiful poem. Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah! 💗

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Oh My Dear Gwen, Good Morning,
      Thank you, thank you. You cannot imagine how many tears I shed as I wrote the poem last week. It was a fresh revelation for me and after I posted it, I was finished, emotionally. I too could only say, hallelujah!
      Have a great week and take care.
      Shalom aleichem

      P.S. I just wanted to share with you that I don’t go on my computer on the Sabbat to work. Therefore, my responses are usually posted on Mondays if I post something on Saturday. That’s why it took me so long to respond to you. Shalom aleichem

      Liked by 1 person

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