Nietzsche argued that Christianity began as a religion for women and slaves. I think he meant it as an insult.
This poem is set in Jerusalem on the first morning after Passover, about 2000 years ago. A Roman slave witnesses something happening in the garden of the dead. Somehow it involves them
Witness
That slave up on the roof
now washed of all the squalor of the night
his master’s bed her master’s bed
in early birdsong’s calm cacophony
did not count how many women weeping
went into the tomb cut freshly from the rock
how many women running coming back
how many men all dressed in shining clothes
or sleeping mercenary guards or none
or who came later there if anyone
or if there was a garden slave
walking in the garden of the dead
when just an hour or so
before the to and fro still soiled with sleep
a simple moment on the roof alone
before the onset of another day
saw sparrows in the eaves and looking east
a figure coming from the sepulchre
identical to him the image of her
in splendid robes of spotless white
but neither woman nor a man
the linen of the shroud and binding cloths
all neatly folded in their proper place
as only house slaves can.
Easter Sunday 12 April 2020