Heads turned. Some were relieved. At last, they would be free from tyranny.
Other heads turned. Who did he think he was?
Still others, stopped and questioned.
Roman soldiers glanced. These Jews had some strange ideas about God, and life. How they treated their own people was a mystery. But, it made the Romans' jobs easier. They shrugged their shoulders...whatever.
He rode into Jerusalem on a donkey. "You! King of the Jews! All hail!"
He knew their hearts. He knew some wanted to crown him, some wanted him dead.
If only they could see - if only they understood. He knew, even after all the time of teaching, and miracles, they didn't really comprehend.
What they thought they wanted, was not why he came.
Heads turned toward him, away from him. "You! Yes, you!"
They found him guilty - of nothing, and everything.
"This man has done nothing wrong! You deal with him. He is one of your own!"
The Romans didn't want to deal with him and the Pharisees didn't want him.
"You! Yes, you! We hate you! Away with him! Free Barabbas. We don't care what he's done.
Take Jesus of Nazareth! Crucify him!"
A crown of thorns was placed on his head.
He was beaten beyond human recognition.
He was spat upon.
The beard on his face was yanked out.
He was yelled at and ridiculed and called every degrading name imaginable.
Yet, He spoke not a word.
Didn't he know?
He was out of time.
He was about to die a criminal's death.
He was not criminal.
I know this. I followed from afar.
I know he knew I was there, but he never said anything.
I was at the wedding when he turned the water into wine.
I saw how he treated the little children, the elderly, the lost.
I listened to him in synagogue and heard the words that pierced my soul.
"This day, these words have come to pass in your midst," he said. There were gasps and threats that day. But, I knew. I believed.
I could hardly bare to watch as he carried the cross on the road to Golgatha.
Covered with blood, flesh torn, his face dripping with blood, he could barely see. Yet, they continued to beat him, and berate him as he struggled.
"You! Yes you! You don't look so brave, now. Where are your followers! They should carry your cross for you!" They laughed. They mocked. The words stung. It was true. They were nowhere close to him.
But, neither was I.
I ran ahead, but stood behind the crowd already gathered at Golgotha Hill.
Why didn't he do something? I wanted him to show those who mocked him, who he really was.
But, did I know myself?
I covered my ears when I heard the screams of searing pain when the soldiers thrust the spikes into his wrists and continued to pound them into the beams, not seeming to care that this was a human being.
I could barely stand it as I watched through tears as they raised the cross of the most loving man I had ever seen.
They thrust the cross into the ground as screams of agony rang through hollow air.
I fell to the ground, sobbing, wishing it to stop, wishing for him to make it stop.
But, he didn't.
He cried out. "Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?" (My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?)
Soldiers were shouting. Others were sobbing.
I saw him mother as she reached out to her son, the agony in her voice was unbearable.
I wanted to run, look away. But, I couldn't. I was stuck where I knelt.
Never, had I witnessed such horror.
I looked upon the shreds of flesh and blood hanging on the cross.
How could anyone so kind, be so hated?
For just a second there was complete silence.
"It is finished." I don't know how he could have uttered the words, but he did.
As the second passed, the earth quaked, and the sky turned black.
More screams, and wild hysteria filled the air.
I remained. My head down, deep guttural sounds filled my lungs till I felt that I would die along with him.
I don't know how long I was there, lost in my own despair, but when I looked up, there were only a few people left.
His mother was surrounded by his followers, They wept.
I looked up.
I saw his broken body, suspended on the cruel cross.
This was it.
He had run out of time.
All the good he had done, was over.
Then, I noticed what I hadn't seen before.
The sign above the head of this man I loved.
It read -
"The King of the Jews."
copyright 2021. Diane Homm
