It’s been the strangest weekend. It began Thursday night with the arrest of the carpenter. Of course, we’d all heard of him. He’s stirred up some mighty powerful men to an ungodly anger. These Jewish leaders are even breaking their own laws and trying to get people to testify against him. But the witnesses don’t corroborate each other’s testimonies. It’s been a madhouse, and I’ve never seen Pilate so upset. He looks like he’s been pulled in every direction at once. He wanted to placate the Jewish leaders; but he also detests these people and resents having to deal with them. He wanted to set the carpenter free; but he also wanted to use him as a scapegoat. He began the weekend hating Herod; but ended it with a strange friendship.

Finally, Friday morning he handed the carpenter over to us soldiers for a little sport. It’s always been this way with criminals who are about to be executed, but there was something different about this one. He had already been beaten and flogged several times. Why, even his own mother wouldn’t recognize him. But all of us were tense from all the goings-on in Jerusalem this Jewish holiday season and we were ready for a little distraction.

Timnus found a discarded scarlet robe and put it over his shoulders and the others began bowing down to him in mockery of the claims we’d heard about him being the King of the Jews. Someone blindfolded him and started hitting his head, demanding that he tell who it was. Seems such a childish passtime, doesn’t it? He’s been slapped, hit, beaten, flogged and spit on. Mockery is probably the least of his concerns. Usually these guys look either angry and defiant, or they look resigned and defeated. Not the carpenter. I can hardly describe it, but in that swollen, torn and bleeding face his eyes were absolutely blazing with victory. Now why on earth would he look victorious? He was about to die, for heaven’s sake. That look kind of shook me up.

Then it was time to go. You know, we’ve only used crucifixion as a means of execution for a few years. It’s supposed to be more humiliating, and it is. It’s supposed to be more torturous, and it is. Makes you wonder if even the most heinous of criminals deserves this. We were walking up that path to Golgotha and it just amazed me that he had the strength to carry that cross on his back after all he’d already been through. His breathing was labored and he was sweating like a horse. Just to make sure he didn’t die before we got him up on the crossbeam, I grabbed a man out of the crowd to carry his cross for him. The carpenter could hardly walk even without the weight of the timber.

I’ve been involved in these executions from the first, and found out early that if you drive the nail in the wrong place on the wrist, blood just gushes out and the criminal dies in a matter of minutes. That happened the first two times. And I soon learned that you have to drive the nail in right under that strongest bone in the wrist so they’ll stay put. It’s the same with the nail in the foot. The wrong position starts that blood spurting again and it won’t hold.

Anyway, Anthony stepped forward to push him down on top of the crossbeam, but he just laid right down without a word. I can’t count how many times I’ve done this, but this is one I’ll remember forever. I positioned the nail just right and was about to drive it in when I sort of felt him move his head. Now most criminals turn their heads away. I guess they think if they can’t see the source of the pain, it won’t be so bad. But not the carpenter. He turned and looked right at his own outstretched left arm. I always try to drive the nail in exactly right the first time so they won’t have to suffer it again. It’s a small thing and I would never tell my fellow soldiers. So I drew back the hammer and hit the mark dead-on. I heard him gasp and looked over at his face. Such a look of pain in such distorted features, but at least I couldn’t see his eyes. He was holding his breath as if it would lessen the pain, but then he let his breath out. And he opened his eyes and looked right at me. There was no anger there, no accusation. Oh, sure, there was pain, but (you’re not going to believe this) there was also that look of victory. And something more – a look of...forgiveness? I could hardly tear my eyes away from his, but I finally ducked my head and quickly finished the task. I took care of the feet and the right wrist, but I surely didn’t look at him again. It made my heart hurt when I looked in his eyes, and soldiers aren’t supposed to have hearts.

It took three of us to pick the crossbeam up and drop it in the hole. Timnus and Anthony gave a kind of nervous laugh when the beam dropped and the carpenter grunted in pain. They quickly found something to occupy themselves elsewhere. The rest of the detail left to be replaced by a fresh group of soldiers. But I hung around. Well, that’s a terrible pun, but I stayed to see what would happen. It was one of those days when the ground just didn’t feel right – one of our infrequent earthquakes, I guess. And the sky turned black as pitch for hours, but it never rained. There was lots of thunder and lightning, almost as if the gods were upset about something.

I heard it all – how he said he was thirsty; how he asked his father to forgive ‘them’; how he took care of his mother’s future; and finally, that desolate cry of anguish. What was it he said? Oh, yes. “My God, My God, why have You forsaken me?” Then he whispered something else and hung his head and died. And I thought to myself, or maybe I said it out loud, “Truly, this was the Son of God!” (Matthew 27:54)

So, what made Him do it? For surely it was His choice. The nails didn’t hold Him there. Something else did…love, forgiveness, a willingness to follow the divine plan all the way to death. Did it end there? You know it didn’t. There was that story of Him rising from the dead. Do I believe it? You bet I do. And I’ll never be the same again.

~lp 4/13/01

He's Alive !!!