Dear Theophilus,
What a horrible scene you
describe. Religious leaders, who I
always imagine should be promoting peace, calling for the death of a man who
dared to oppose them. A Roman leader, giving
in to their demands and sentencing a man to death, even though he doesn’t
believe the man guilty of any crime that justifies the sentence. It’s awful.
I don’t know how Jesus stood for it if, as you say, he had the power to
flee that place.
It’s all so hard to understand—you
say that he had to die in order for the price of our sins to be paid, and yet
I, too, wonder if there wasn’t another way.
Surely, if God is so powerful, another way in this wilderness could have
been made, right? It all seems so
barbaric. I never asked anyone to die
for me—and yet you say that dies for all.
I don’t know how to respond to such an act, Theophilus. I should be grateful for it, and yet it seems
so unnecessary that he should die in such a manner for so many people who did
not know him, even for those of us who are not particularly bad people. Is my life so contemptible that I require the
death of an innocent man to transform it into a good thing? I have never thought so. And yet you say such a thing is necessary
even for people like me.
While I may be confused about this
whole path of events, the Jewish leaders had no such troubles. Delighted at the condemnation Pilate had
offered, they led Jesus away, grabbing an innocent bystander along the way so
that Jesus, already beaten, tired and weakened, would not perish on the way to
his crucifixion and deprive the leaders the joy of watching him suffer while
elevated on such an awful invention. I
do not know the origins of crucifixion, but I can scarcely think of a more
barbaric tool that elicits more suffering and pain than that one. It is as though the Romans believed that it
was not enough just to kill a man—they had to break his soul along the
way.
If the leaders had any doubts, I’m
sure they displayed none, just happy to get their way and have Jesus out of
their hair. Simon of Cyrene, the
bystander enlisted to carry the cross, followed Jesus as they made their way to
Golgotha, known appropriately as the Skull.
Along the way, many people followed in the procession, all of them
curious, some of them furious. Jesus had
gained such a public reputation for all that he had done in Jerusalem and the
surrounding countryside that his death would not be a quiet, unnoticed
event. Many would come to see, and of
those, a great majority would weep and wail, for they had been captivated by
his teachings and moved by his miracles.
Doubtless, some of those who had been healed showed up to see the
tragedy unfold. Some of these women were
beating themselves and wailing loudly, but Jesus addressed them directly,
calling on them not to weep for him, a single man, but for all their daughters
and sons, for Jesus said that a day would come when people would say that those
who could not bear children, the barren with empty wombs and un-nursed breasts,
would be blessed rather than those with many children. In those days, Jesus says, hope for the
future will be so dim and the present misery so difficult that people will
implore the mountains and hills to fall upon them and cover them, becoming a
tomb in which to end their misery. Jesus
then asks rhetorically if they will weep when the wood is still green and
cannot be burned, what will their response be in a time when the wood is no
longer green?
Upon their arrival, Jesus was hung
upon the cross between two common criminals.
His hands were nailed to the crosspiece and his feet nailed to the
vertical beam, then he was elevated for all to see. Meanwhile, his clothing was distributed among
his captors by gambling, as they cast lots for it in the hopes that it would be
a piece of valuable memorabilia. It’s reported
that, upon reaching the height at which he would die, he prayed an astonishing
prayer, one asking for forgiveness on behalf of his executors, claiming they
did not know what they were doing.
It’s hard to support the claim that
they didn’t know what they were doing—they’d been plotting this for some time,
although one could certainly make the case that their bloodlust and hatred
blinded them. You, Theophilus, would
argue that they didn’t understand themselves as hanging the Son of God on the
cross. It’s hard for most of us to
understand how God would let such a thing happen—many in the crowd that day
felt the same way. They wondered why
this man who saved so many others through rich and wondrous miracles couldn’t
save himself. They felt that such an act
would be a proof of his identity as the Messiah, God’s chosen. The soldiers, too, joined in to such
questions, but rather than posing the questions among themselves they mocked
Jesus with their questions, calling upon him to save himself, since he was the
King of the Jews. Someone even though it
would be a nice touch to hand a sign upon the cross labeling this weakened and
dying man as the King of the Jews, perhaps as a hint to all those around about
who the real King was and what might happen if you challenged him.
Jesus could not find peace even in
these last hours. Even one of the
criminals hung upon the cross beside him mocked him in this manner, imploring
this man to save himself as well as the criminals if he was the true
Messiah. The world didn’t understand,
Theophilus, any more than I do. Death
seems so unnecessary, so unnatural, if his identity was truly as he said it
was. What an amazing display that would be—to
see the man descend from the cross for all to see! Surely, many more would worship God,
right? I’d be impressed!
The other criminal didn’t join in
this mocking. Rather, he took Jesus’
side, asking the other criminal if he had any fear of God, since his
condemnation was the same as this innocent man, who had committed no crime. He admitted that he and the other criminal
deserved the death they were receiving, but he knew that Jesus did not, and as
he neared his own death he asked Jesus to remember him when Jesus entered his
kingdom. An odd place for a conversion,
Theophilus—apparently the sight of a beaten and bloodied Jesus was still enough
to create faith in this man.
Jesus responded with a promise that
the criminal would join him in paradise that very day, but it seemed a promise
unlikely to be fulfilled, given the present circumstances. I see three men, dying on a cross with a
crowd around them to observe such horrors.
Jesus, who apparently has power to descend from such heights, uses none
of it and continues on toward death while the crowd awaits a miracle that would
make all things clear.
I see no hope in this present
situation, Theophilus, and I struggle to see how a religion could have formed
around this man, much less one that would exist more than a week beyond a
rather demonstrative and final death.
Sincerely,
Luke
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