We have killed God, so the Christians say, we have nailed Him to the cross and shamed Him. We have put His own curse on Him and spilled His blood. We have triumphed over Him, we have slain the King of the Jews, so Ponteus Pilato had it written. There is no mourning aound the cross, only triumph and lots and slander and merrimaking. God is Dead; and we have killed him. Watch Him breathe His last and descend to the depths of the Earth. This is mans hour, and we have done the most glorious thing, the most impossible thing, to be remembered forever.Of course, as we revel and shout for joy in the triumph of man, the coronation of man, we ponder at the empty tomb. Christ is absent, but where? Is He still in Hell where we placed him, or as the lunatics and fools whom we murder say, has He ascended to the Heavens?
“And I will pour on the house of David and on the inhabitants of Jerusalem the Spirit of grace and supplication; then they will look on Me whom they pierced. Yes, they will mourn for Him as one mourns for his only son, and grieve for Him as one grieves for a firstborn.” (Zechariah the prophet)