There is the Jesus who was, and there is the Jesus who is. The Jesus who was is that fathomless, elusive, unpredictable, haunting, and finally unknowable figure who moves through the homely landscapes of the Synoptics and the twilit dreamscapes of John like a figure in an old newsreel. The film is scratched and faded.
Some patches are almost blindingly light-struck and others all but totally dark.
The editing is erratic. Yet for just that reason we treasure all the more each flickering glimpse of him that we are given as he stops at a well for water, or lies asleep in the stern of a boat with a pillow under his head, or tells his strange, off-beat stories to the people who have gathered to gawk at him. And in that first, fresh light, they come and have it. And have it from his hands. Have it from him.