A Story of God and All of Us

PART NINE

DELIVERANCE

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It is the middle of the night in Jerusalem. Jesus has been beaten. Blood pours from his broken nose. His body is bruised. His hands are bound and held by a guard. The Temple guards lead Jesus by a length of rope to Caiaphas, the high priest.

"Cover him up," cries Malchus. A heavy blanket is thrown over Jesus to conceal his face from the many pilgrims who support him. "Tell Caiaphas we have Jesus," barks Malchus as they lead Jesus into the high priest's home.

Judas follows the procession into Caipahas's house. Malchus, however, places a hand firmly on Judas's shoulder and pushes him out the door.

"Not you," Malchus says with a sneer. "We're finished with you."

Judas walks off into the night, haunted by emptiness.

The door closes. Caiaphas stands waiting. The Temple guards march Jesus into the center of the room. Malchus removes the blanket covering Jesus and steps back into the shadows. Jesus and Caiaphas square off, though nothing is said by either man. The two are a study in contrasts. Jesus is bruised and bloodied, his hands tied together, and his simple yet elegant clothing dirty and torn. Caiaphas wears fine colorful robes, his body clean.

Caiaphas looks into Jesus' eyes and is momentarily frozen. That gaze will haunt Caiaphas for the rest of his days. Caiaphas postures, an attempt to regain his lost authority, as Jesus stands alone, not a friend in the room, surreally in command as he awaits the inevitable.

Nicodemus and the elders enter the room. Because he has been beaten so badly, Jesus' face is horribly disfigured. Nicodemus and some of the elders gasp at the horrific sight. "You can't go through with this," Nicodemus tells Caiaphas. "This is not legal. Our laws say that a capital trial should be held in court, in daylight, and in public."

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"This is necessary," Caiaphas fires back.

"Why the rush?"

Caiaphas turns on Nicodemus. His rage is a mixture of envy and anxiety.

"You heard what Pilate said," he snarls. "He'll shut down the Temple if there's any more disruption. We must be rid of this Jesus--or God will punish us all."

"But what if he really is who he says he is?" asks Nicodemus. "What if he is the Messiah?"

" We will decide that!"

" God decides that," replies Nicodemus.

"God's guidance will be upon us," Caiaphas replies.

"But how can it?" questions Nicodemus. "For God commands that we obey His laws."

Jesus is led by a rope down a long hallway to the room where his trial will take place. The elders trail behind.

"Let me remind you what the law says," Caiaphas lectures Nicodemus, as the two men walk together. "It says that anyone who shows contempt for the judge or high priest is to be put to death. Anyone..." They stop.

The two men size each other up, then continue on in silence.

The hostile courtroom is packed. In the room where Caiaphas normally spends time alone, unwinding at the end of the day, the elders who comprise the Sanhedrin have gathered for the trial of Jesus. Makers and keepers of Israel's religious laws, whatever these men decide is binding. The sun is about to rise. "Brothers," Caiaphas begins, "thank you for coming at this hour. You know I wouldn't ask if this was not such a serious matter." Then he waves his hand and cries with mock reverence, "The one and only Jesus of Nazareth."

Jesus does not look up or speak.

"Jesus of Nazareth," Caiaphas intones solemnly, "you are suspected of blasphemy. Now let us hear from our witnesses." Caiaphas beckons the first witness.

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"In the Temple," says the man who steps forward, clearly intimidated. "He healed a lame woman in the Temple."

Nicodemus can't bear to look at Jesus. It's clear that this whole thing is going to be a charade. A second witness is asked to speak.

"He said he would destroy the Temple!"

"I heard him say that, too," chimes in a Temple elder.

Caiaphas points his finger at Jesus. "You would destroy the Temple! How dare you. That is rebellion against the Lord our God. Tell me, how do you answer these accusations?"

Jesus says nothing. Nicodemus stares hard at him, willing him to speak up.

But Jesus remains impassive. The outcome is already decided. Jesus gathers his strength for the ordeal that is soon to come.

"The witnesses' evidence is clear and unequivocal. My brothers, we have faced false prophets in the past and we will face false prophets in the future.

But I doubt we will face one as false as this!"

The room fills with murmurs of agreement.

A new voice cries out, that of an elder. "A prophet brings us new words from God. Does he not?"

Nicodemus is stunned. Finally, someone agrees with him.

"If every new voice is crushed, how will we ever know a prophet when we



hear one?" the elder continues.

Caiaphas is thrown off. He chooses to deflect the question. "You are right, Joseph of Arimathea. How will we? I will tell you how: we must listen and then judge. So I invite this man--this 'prophet'--to speak." He turns to Jesus.

"Are you the Christ, the Son of God?"

Jesus' head is bowed. He remains silent. Blood trickles from his wounds.

"Nothing to say?" Caiaphas asks.

Jesus slowly raises his head. His body stiffens. He stands tall. He looks Caiaphas directly in the eye. "You will see the son of man sitting at the right hand of God and coming on the clouds of heaven."

"Impostor!" Caiaphas cries, ripping his robe open to seek forgiveness 288

from God for hearing such words. "Blasphemer! We must vote and we must vote now!" Caiaphas is so enraged he has lost his senses.

Jesus knows the verdict and the sentence that will be read before the vote is taken.

Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus shake their heads at the sham, feeling helpless to stop it.

"The sentence is death," Caiaphas cries out.

"This is wrong," yells Joseph. "This verdict brings shame on this council."

Caiaphas ignores him.

Jesus' followers have gathered at the Temple, the normal place for Jesus to be brought, which is exactly why Caiaphas had Jesus led to his home instead. Disciples Mary and John make their way through the crowd of tents and sleeping, uneducated, largely unsophisticated pilgrims. The Temple guards glare at them, recognizing them from their many appearances with Jesus.

Mary Magdalene notices the distraught face of Mary, the mother of Jesus.



She wanders through the crowd. They rush to her side.

"Mary! John! Where is my son?"

"Jesus has been arrested, but we don't know where they've taken him,"

responds Mary Magdalene.

"Arrested?" replies Mary. "At night?" Ever since that day the angel Gabriel told her she was going to give birth to the Messiah, Mary has known this day would come.

John glances around at the crowds. "He's not here. They must have taken him someplace secret. So they won't have any protests."

The sun rises low and red over the Temple.

The doors of Caiaphas's palace swing open. Peter is standing just outside as Jesus is dragged out. Throughout the night, his own life has been in 289

jeopardy as he has waited to hear what has happened to Jesus, hoping somehow he can help.

Others have come to stand outside Caiaphas's door, as word of Jesus' arrest has quickly traveled. This crowd of supporters is devastated by the sight of Jesus' battered body, with blood caked on his face and bruises around his eyes.

Malchus reads from a proclamation: "Let it be known that Jesus of Nazareth has been tried by the supreme court of Temple elders. He has been found guilty of blasphemy and threatening to destroy the Temple. The sentence is death."

The crowd gasps. Judas, who has remained outside all night long, hurls the bag of silver at Malchus. "Take back your money!" he screams, distraught.

This is not at all what he intended. The coins clatter to the cobblestones, at the feet of Malchus.

A large guard approaches Peter. "You... I know you."

Peter doesn't scare easily. "I don't know what you're talking about."



"You know him," says the guard, grabbing at Peter. "I saw you call him Rabbi."

"No," says Peter. "He's nothing to do with me."

"He's one of them," a woman screams, pointing at Peter.

He spins around and confronts her. "I tell you, I don't know him."

Peter sees Jesus being hauled away, and he is frustrated by his inability to help Jesus, who means so much to him. The rooster crows, and Peter remembers Jesus' words that he would deny knowing his beloved friend and teacher before dawn. The rough, gruff man sobs in agony. He looks for Jesus, summoning all his courage. Peter means to approach Jesus, even though he is surrounded by guards, and make his apologies--even die trying to free him from the guards. But he searches in vain. The Temple guards have already taken Jesus away.

"Where is my son?" asks Mary. She stands over Peter. The crowd has dispersed, and she has found the sobbing fisherman lying alone the gutter.

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"They've condemned him."

Mary gasps in shock.

"They've taken him. I don't know where, but he's gone." Peter slowly rises to his feet, aided by John. A look of humiliation is etched across Peter's face.

John notices but says nothing to his friend.

"I told them I didn't know him," Peter says, inconsolable. He breaks away and disappears down the street.

Mother Mary sinks to the ground, as the sun glints off the high walls of the temple complex. Her mother's heart clearly understands that the break of day brings little new hope. The disciples are broken and powerless against the authority of the high priest.

But Caiaphas is having problems. As he changes into his special ornate Passover robes, Caiaphas knows that he cannot execute Jesus, for such a public execution by the Jewish high council will enrage Jesus' followers and





create just the kind of disruption he wants to avoid. But the Romans can do anything. "I need to speak to Pontius Pilate," Caiaphas barks to Malchus.

Pilate stands before a washbasin in his residence. As he finishes washing his face, a servant hands him a towel. "Where's my wife?" asks Pilate. "It's past dawn. She should be up by now."

Just then, the maidservant of Pilate's wife appears in the doorway. "Master, come quickly. Please."

Pilate follows her immediately. They run down the empty corridor to his wife's room, where Claudia lies on the bed drenched in sweat and

hyperventilating. He goes to comfort her.

"I saw a man," says Claudia. "In a dream."

Dreams are serious business to the Romans, portenders of the future that should never be ignored. "Tell me about this dream," says Pilate.

"I saw a man being beaten and killed. He was an innocent man. A holy man," she says, then adds: "A good man."

Pilate looks to the maidservant. "Help your lady back to bed."

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Claudia resists. "My beloved, pay heed to this dream. I believe it is a warning."

"And why is that?"

"Because in my dream, it was you who killed this man."

The branches of a giant ancient olive tree swing in the early morning breeze as Jerusalem greets the day. Its gnarled thick branches rise to a lofty height.

Judas Iscariot sits atop the branch that he has chosen, in a hurry to get this done. He has located a horse's halter. The fit won't be as snug around his neck as a hangman's noose, and he may struggle for longer before losing consciousness than with a rope, but every slow, miserable pain he endures will be deserved. Will God have mercy on his soul? he wonders.

Judas slips the halter around his neck. The leather is rough against his skin.





He then loops the other end of the halter around a thick branch and tugs on it to make sure the connection is taut. He takes one last look at Jerusalem.

Then Judas leaps.

Nicodemus exits the Temple, staggered by the hypocrisy and arrogance he has just witnessed. It is early morning, and the pilgrims camped on the premises are cooking their morning meals, hurrying to prepare for the Passover feast.

"You know where Jesus is!" calls out a voice.

Nicodemus whirls to the sound. This is most unusual. The citizens of Jerusalem don't normally challenge a Temple elder. Nicodemus doesn't recognize the voice of John, the disciple, and keeps walking.

"Wait," John cries. "Please, we know you. You came to see him. I was there.

You spoke to him."

Nicodemus stops and turns. "He's gone."

"Where... please. Please tell me."

"The Romans will have him soon."

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"Romans?" John asks, confused. "He's never said anything against Rome."

"Caiaphas is going to hand him over to the Romans," Nicodemus explains with a heavy heart. "And there's nothing we can do to get him back."

As the stunned John contemplates what this means, Nicodemus walks on.

For what he has said is a most simple truth: once a man has been handed over to the Romans, the chance of him avoiding prison or execution is almost none.

Pilate is tending to governmental matters inside the Roman governor's residence when Caiaphas is announced. The high priest is prepared. He knows that his next words must be phrased as precisely as possible.

"Prefect, we need your help," says Caiaphas. "We have convicted a



dangerous criminal and sentenced him to death."

"And? When is his execution?"

Caiaphas moves closer, spreading his hands as if in explanation. "We--the Sanhedrin--cannot. It's Passover, you see. Its against our law." Caiaphas punctuates his tale by bowing his head deferentially. Pilate looks at him with distaste.

"So do it after Passover," says Pilate. "Surely the man can live a few more days."

"Normally, I would say yes. But this man is an urgent threat--not only to us, but also to Rome. He claims to be our king, and is using that lie to whip my people into rebellion. This man could very well tear Jerusalem apart."

Pilate looks at Caiaphas. He wonders how such a pompous individual became the leading voice in the Jewish religion. Pilate's patience with the man is at a breaking point. "I am quick to punish criminals," he snarls, "but only if they break the law. I need proof that this man has done so--or Rome will not be pleased."

"He has broken the law, Prefect. I assure you," Caiaphas replies.

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"You had better be right," snarls Pilate, fixing Caiaphas with a deadly gaze.

"If you're wasting my time, you'll pay for this." He looks at his guards. "I'll see the prisoner."

A ragged, bloodstained hood hangs over Jesus' head as he languishes in the cells located within Pilate's residence. This was once home to Herod the Great, who banished his own sons to these same cells. Their fate, as decided by their father, was death. The same fate befell John the Baptist.

Now Pilate will decide whether Jesus should face the same punishment.

The Roman governor enters. A guard pulls off Jesus' hood. The Messiah slowly raises his eyes and looks directly at Pilate, who is unnerved, just as Caiaphas was unnerved by these same eyes.

"So," Pilate begins after a very long pause. "Are you the King of the Jews?"

Jesus says nothing.

"They say you claim to be King of the Jews."

"Is that what you think, or did others tell you this about me?" Jesus replies calmly, for he fears no man. Pilate takes a step back and momentarily averts his eyes.

"Your own people say that," Pilate replies, regaining his composure. "So tell me: are you a king?"

"My kingdom is not of this world," answers Jesus. "If it was, my servants would fight my arrest."

"So you are a king?"

"You say rightly that I am a king. I was born to come into the world and testify to the truth; everyone who is of truth hears my voice."

"Truth? What is truth?" demands Pilate.

Jesus says nothing. He smiles and looks up into the single shaft of light that penetrates the dark cell. It bathes his face. The enraged governor feels like slapping the insolent prisoner--but something stops him in his tracks. He looks at Jesus for what feels like an eternity. Then he turns and leaves.

There is something unusual about this prisoner.

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Claudia greets him as he returns to his office. "Well?" she asks.

"They want him crucified," answers Pilate.

"You can't. I beseech you."

"Whatever for? This man is only a Jew. They say he wants to start a revolution."

"I tell you, my love, this is the man from my dreams. The man you killed.

Please don't do this. His blood will be on your hands."



"And if I don't? How will I explain a rebellion to Rome? Caiaphas will surely testify that it was my fault. If there is an outburst Caesar will blame me. He has already warned me once. He is not going to warn me again. I will be finished... we'll be finished."

Pilate walks to the window. His wife's pleas adding to the pressures of his office, pressures he's never felt before. He sees the pilgrims in the streets below, with their newly purchased sacrificial animals. Pilate starts to wish that he had stayed in Caesarea, if only to be away from that wretched Caiaphas and his political maneuverings. But if he had, this Jesus character might very well have caused a riot, and by the time Pilate responded in force, Jerusalem might have burned to the ground. It had happened before, and it could happen again. No... Pilate is glad he is in Jerusalem, determined to survive the next few days and return to his villa by the sea. But Claudia is right: Pilate doesn't want Jesus' blood on his hands.

Claudia places a hand on his shoulder, though she doesn't say a word, knowing that her husband often needs to focus his thoughts before taking action.

"Get me Caiaphas," Pilate says after a moment. "I have a plan."

Pilate greets Caiaphas and the elders with thinly veiled contempt. "I have met your Jesus and have come to the conclusion that he is guilty of nothing more than being deranged. That is not a crime in Rome."

"He's broken the law," Caiaphas protests.

" Your law," Pilate replies smoothly. "Not Caesar's." The governor stares 295

hard at Caiaphas. "Teach this man some respect. Give him forty lashes and dump him outside the city walls. That is my decree."

"Nothing more? Prefect, I cannot be held responsible for what the people will do if you release a man who has broken our sacred laws. Especially on this day, when our eyes are on God."

"The people?" Pilate responds sarcastically. Pilate knows his next move, even as Caiaphas tries to take control. But Pilate speaks first. "Caesar decrees that I can release a prisoner at Passover. I shall let 'the people'

decide which of the prisoners in my jails shall be crucified, and which shall be set free."

Caiaphas knows he's been tricked. He's too stunned to speak.

"Send for the prisoner," Pilate orders.

A crowd is now gathered at the gate outside Pilate's residence, peering through a large steel grate into the empty courtyard. Word has gone out that Jesus will be lashed. Many like to witness public brutality and revel in the carnival-like proceedings that accompany a good beating.

Jesus is dragged into the courtyard by two Roman soldiers. His face is crusted in blood, and his eyes are now swollen shut by a fresh round of beatings.

Mary, his mother, gasps. She stands outside in the crowd, peering into the courtyard through the grate.

Jesus is tied to the whipping post. His robes are ripped from his back, exposing the flesh. The soldiers now retrieve their whips. A single lash is an exercise in agony, sure to scar a man for life.

Jesus is about to endure thirty-nine.

"They're going to kill him," whispers Mary to Mary Magdalene, her heart breaking. John looks down at the two women protectively. The two soldiers stand ready to whip, one on each side of Jesus. They will take turns. A third soldier enters the courtyard, carrying an abacus. It will be his job to make a careful tally of the blows and report back to Rome that precisely thirty-nine were inflicted.

Jesus looks across to his mother. Her pain is enormous, but his eyes 296

lock with hers and she feels a strong connection with him. It is as if he is reassuring her and reminding her that this is how it must be.

The lashings begin. Jesus does not cry out, even as the crowd gasps at the severity of what they are witnessing. The harrowing punishment and ordeal Jesus is to endure has been preordained. Isaiah, the prophet, once wrote that there would come a savior who "was pierced through for our



transgressions. He was crushed for our iniquities. And by his scourging, we are healed."

From a window overlooking the courtyard, Pilate and Claudia watch the ghastly proceedings. She winces with each flay of the lash, but Pilate has seen many such beatings. "Its as if he knows this must happen," marvels Pilate.

One last abacus bead slides from left to right. Thirty-nine lashes are now in the books.

Jesus hangs on the pole, barely alive but definitely breathing. When his hands are untied, he does not slump to the ground but stands upright, beaten but unbroken.

Now he is taken back to the dungeon. The guards, never known to show kindness toward their prisoners--especially Jews--have been busy while he was away. To have this delusional Jesus in their midst claiming to be a king is the stuff of folly, and they can't wait to take advantage. One guard has woven a crown out of thorny branches. It is gruesome to behold, with long spikes sticking out at all angles. He now presses it down hard on Jesus'

skull, drawing blood as those sharp tips bite into bone. "King of the Jews!"

the soldier exults, bowing deep in front of Jesus, then dancing a little jig.

One of the soldiers who beat Jesus has just wiped the blood from his hands.

He drapes the crimson towel over Jesus' shoulders as if it were an ermine robe. All the jailers find this quite hilarious.

Pilate orders that the palace gates be opened. The crowds pour in, not sure what is about to happen. They know Pilate is allowed to release one man 297

of their choice before Passover, in one of the many events held during Passover. They wonder who will be set free. Surely, Jesus is no longer a consideration. He has paid his penalty and has probably already been released. That's how the law works. So they wait patiently for their options.

Pilate has skillfully deflected Caiaphas's demand that he crucify Jesus, and given the final verdict to this mass of pilgrims.

Caiaphas remains undeterred, however, and is ensuring that the pilgrims allowed into the courtyard will vote against Jesus. The mainstream Jewish people are not given a choice in the matter. Malchus, his servant, and the Temple guards now stand at the gates, denying entry to anyone who supports the man from Nazareth. Scuffles break out as many in the crowd vent their frustration for being denied entry. They howl in protest--howls that are completely ignored by the Roman soldiers guarding the palace.

Mary, John, and Mary Magdalene are among those kept away. They watch in disbelief as a mob of pro-Caiaphas sympathizers stand ready to determine Jesus' fate.

Pontius Pilate appears in an upstairs window and the crowd silences to hear what he has to say. "Today," Pilate begins, "Passover begins. Caesar makes you a gesture of goodwill through the release of a prisoner chosen by you."

A bald-headed murderer is marched into the courtyard, followed by Jesus, still wearing his crown of thorns.

"I give you a choice," Pilate tells them. "You may choose between Barabbas, a murderer. Or you may choose this other man--a teacher who claims to be your king."

Laughter and jeers spew forth from the crowd. Caiaphas, who now stands at Pilate's side, yells, "We have no king but Caesar."

Temple guards now move through the crowd, whispering instructions and receiving nods of agreement. "Crucify him!" is spontaneously shouted by members of the crowd who have remained silent until now.

Mary, mother of Jesus, is horrified. Her hands go to her face, and she covers her mouth in dismay.

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Pilate sees the look on Caiaphas's face and knows that he has an answer.

"Decide!" Pilate shouts to the crowd.

"Barabbas," they roar back. "Free Barabbas."

Outside the gates, Mary, John, and Mary Magdalene all shout in Jesus'

defense, as do many around them. But their voices cannot be heard over the



roar "Barabbas! Barabbas! Barabbas!" from the courtyard.

Pilate is mystified. He looks at Caiaphas and then back at the crowd. "You choose a murderer," he tells them with a shake of his head, then holds up a hand to silence the mob.

"Do it," he says to his guards. The bewildered soldiers reluctantly unlock Barabbas's shackles. The crowd cheers; the insurrectionist's eyes are wild with delight.

"And this wretch," Pilate yells to the crowd. "What shall I do with him?"

"Crucify him! Crucify him!"

"Save him," comes the chant from outside the gate. "Save him."

"Crucify! Crucify! Crucify!" yells the courtyard.

Pilate silences the crowd. "How can you condemn this man and spare a murderer?"

"Crucify! Crucify! Crucify!"

"Very well," he tells them. "Crucify him."

Pilate reaches for a nearby bowl of water and washes his hands. This is a deliberate gesture, mirroring a custom of the Hebrews and Greeks to show that he is not responsible. "I am innocent of this man's blood," he says, hoping to shift blame.

Pilate knows Jesus is innocent and that he can prevent his death. He has the power, and should simply disperse the mob. But instead of standing up for truth, he is taking the easier route of political expediency. It is a dangerous time in Jerusalem, the home to more than a million Jews and less than a thousand Roman soldiers. Pilate cannot risk the sort of tumult, as it would make its way back to Rome and Caesar.

Pilate dries his hands. This crucifixion is no longer his affair.

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It has been just six days since Jesus was welcomed into Jerusalem. Now he is to be crucified on a hill outside the city walls, for Jewish law does not allow executions inside the city. Two criminals will also be crucified at the same time.

Crucifixion--the act of nailing a man to a wooden cross--is the standard Roman form of capital punishment. It is brutal. A man can take days to die, hanging alone on the cross until he wastes away. To this heinous death for Jesus is added the torment of dragging the cross through the streets of Jerusalem. He staggers, trailed by a guard on horseback prepared to whip him if he falls or drops the cross. Many who were denied the chance to spare Jesus' life line the streets, forced back by a phalanx of Roman soldiers who ensure that no one helps Jesus escape.

Jesus is in agony as he struggles toward his death. His body is bent by the weight of the cross, and the crown of thorns inflicts a new burst of pain whenever the cross bumps against it. The many beatings he has endured in the hours since his capture make it hard to breathe, for his jailers have kicked and punched him in the ribs again and again.

Yet he sees everything. Both the sympathetic and not-so-sympathetic faces in the crowd. He also sees Mary, his mother. Jesus stumbles and feels the lash of a Roman whip as he falls. He reaches out to steady himself, pressing his hand flat against a stone wall. It leaves a bloody print. As Jesus moves forward to continue his grueling march, a woman in the crowd places her own hand against Jesus' handprint. She weeps; she knows who Jesus truly is.

The ground is cobbled, so the cross bumps along rather than drags smoothly. The distance from Pilate's palace to Golgotha, the place where Jesus will die, is five hundred yards.

Jesus knows he cannot make it. He spits out a gob of blood and falls to his knees. He drops the cross and crumples to the ground. Roman soldiers are upon him in an instant, raining kicks and punches on his helpless body.

Mary races forward to save her son, but a Roman guard grabs her roughly and throws her back.

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"Please," John says, risking his life by stepping from the crowd. "She's his mother!"

Tears stream down Mary's cheeks. The Roman guard steps toward John with a menacing glare on his face, but the disciple is undeterred. "Have





mercy. Please!"

Mary can't help herself. She flings herself forward and falls onto her knees, next to her son. She wraps her arms lovingly around him in what will surely be their last embrace. Jesus' eyes are swollen shut, and he can hardly react.

"My son," Mary sobs.

Jesus forces his eyes open. "Don't be afraid," he tells his mother. "The Lord is with you." Repeating exactly what Gabriel had told her when he visited her as a young virgin. His words give her strength, and his look of love fills her with courage. She tries to help him up with the cross. If she could she would carry it for him, but she knows this is what he came to do.

Then suddenly Mary is pulled away from her boy. The soldiers whip the fallen Jesus, but it is clear that he cannot carry the cross any farther. A man, Simon of Cyrene, is chosen for his broad back and obvious strength, and he is forced to shoulder the cross for Jesus. Their eyes lock, and then their hands link to lift the heavy wood. Together, they share the burden. Step by painful step, the two complete the long walk up to the crucifixion site.

Back in his palace, Pontius Pilate continues his running battle with Caiaphas. Roman law dictates that every condemned man should have a sign placed on their cross to indicate their crime. Pilate dictates the wording for Jesus' sign. "Post these words in Aramaic, Latin, and Greek," he tells a scribe. "JESUS OF NAZARETH: KING OF THE JEWS."

"He was never our king!" says Caiaphas, who stands by the window watching Jesus' progress toward Golgotha. "Surely, it should read that he claims to be the King of the Jews."

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" The king," Pilate corrects him. "It stays as I have commanded." He stares across the room, daring Caiaphas to respond. But the high priest says nothing.

The crowd thins as Jesus leaves the city walls behind. Mary, John, and Mary Magdalene walk to the side of the road as it curls steeply upward, just out of Jesus' sight but always there. This hill is known as Golgotha, or "Place of the Skulls," because it is believed that the skull of Adam is buried here.

Choking dust fills the air, and Jesus can barely breathe. He trips and is immediately whipped. He rises and then trips again. And once more, he immediately feels the sting of the lash.

"My Lord," cries a woman as she steps into the street. Despite the threat of punishment by the guards, she lovingly washes his face with a cloth. But when she urges him to drink from a small cup of water, the guards snatch it away and hurl it to the ground.

Jesus and Simon of Cyrene finally arrive at the place of crucifixion. Simon drops the heavy cross and quickly leaves. Jesus, no longer able to stand, collapses into the dust. The Roman guards spring into action. Coils of rope are unwound and laid flat. Spades dig out the excess earth from the holes in the ground so often used for crucifixions.

"I want to see him," Mother Mary murmurs as she strains against the arms of a Roman guard who prevents her from getting close to Jesus.

Mary Magdalene sinks to her knees and starts to pray. Mother Mary stands resolutely upright, keeping a distant vigil over her son. John stands next to her, ready to catch her if she collapses from the stress.

Jesus is laid on the cross. The guards stretch out his arms and hammer nails into his hands. His feet are nailed to the cross, one over the other. The sound of his bones breaking fills the air, and Jesus gasps at each new burst of pain. After everything he's endured today, nothing hurts like the moments the nails pierce his feet.

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Pilate's sign is nailed into the cross above Jesus' head: JESUS OF

NAZARETH: KING OF THE JEWS.

To raise the cross, ropes are attached, one end to the cross and the other to the horse that will pull it to an upright position. The crack of a whip, and the horse walks forward. Jesus no longer sees just the sky above. Now he sees all of Jerusalem in the distance, and his loving mother standing vigil at the base of the cross.

He can barely breathe. His outstretched arms make it almost impossible to draw a breath. Jesus knows he will suffocate. It is not the nails that kill you, but the steady weakening of the body until it becomes impossible for the lungs to expand.

The cross is upright. Jesus hangs from it. The executioner's job is done.

Those soldiers who crucified Jesus divide his clothes among them and cast lots for his garments.

Meanwhile, those who have watched the crucifixion step forward.

Mother Mary weeps with unbearable grief.

"Come to save others, can't even save yourself," mocks a Pharisee.

Jesus hears it all. He moans, and then speaks to God: "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."

The two criminals have been crucified on either side of him. The first taunts Jesus: "Aren't you the Messiah? Why don't you save yourself and us?"

The second criminal responds, "Our punishment is just. But this man has done nothing wrong." He turns to Jesus and speaks softly. "Remember me, Messiah, when you come into your kingdom."

Jesus turns to him. "Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise." He grimaces in pain. The Romans may have finished their work, but they won't go home until all three of the crucified men are dead. Now it's just a matter of time.

Mary, John, and Mary Magdalene stand at the base of Jesus' cross. He is immobile and seems dead. It is now midafternoon, almost time for the start of Passover, just before sunset. The Roman soldiers know that his

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body must be taken off the cross by then, and are contemplating breaking his legs to kill him quicker, but they will not need to do that.

"My God," Jesus cries suddenly. "My God, why have You forsaken me?"

This is the opening line of Psalm 22, King David's lament for the Jews and a cry for help. Jesus looks down at Mary. "Mother, this is your son," he tells her, referring to John as he stands at her side. "John," he adds. "This is your mother."





Mother Mary stands, silent tears running down her face. John places a protective arm around her.

Jesus looks away, consumed by the pain in his mortal body. He looks to heaven as a hard wind kicks up. A rumble of thunder sweeps across the land. "I thirst," Jesus says. In response, a soldier soaks a sponge and raises it up to his lips on a spear.

Peter hears the thunder, as he sits alone in the room where his last supper with Jesus took place less than twenty-four hours ago. His eyes are rimmed in red from exhaustion and tears, for he cannot forgive himself for denying Jesus. The coming thunder terrifies him, and he doesn't know where to run.

Pilate hears it, as he awaits sunset inside his palace. Claudia does, too.

She's certain it's an omen that her husband did the wrong thing by killing Jesus, and is furious at him. "I told you not to kill him," she hisses as the thunder breaks.

"Hardly the first Jew we've killed," Pilate responds. He lies facedown on a bench, his torso bare and a towel around his waist as a servant rubs oil into his back.

"He was different," Claudia rails. "I told you that."

"Trust me," Pilate tells his wife, ending the conversation, "he'll be forgotten in a week."

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Jesus, in a barely conscious fog of pain, hears the thunder. Black storm clouds now fill the sky as he knows that the time has come to leave this world. "It is finished," Jesus says aloud. "Father, into your hands, I commend my spirit."

The thunder strikes. This bundle of energy, vibration, and sheer power explodes upon Jerusalem. In the Temple, the great curtain is ripped in two, and panicked crowds race to flee the building, leaving their hard-earned sacrificial animals behind.

Mother Mary knows it is the signal that her son has died. She stares up at



Jesus with a look of utter calm. All the pain she has been suffering is gone, replaced by the peace of realizing that her son will suffer no more.

The terrified Roman guards believe the thunder to be an omen, and they hurry to break the legs of the crucified so they can remove their bodies before Passover. They hastily grab metal rods and swing them hard against the two criminals on either side of Jesus. But they see that Jesus is already dead. To make sure, the Roman commander runs a spear through his side.

"He's dead," the commander confirms, pulling his spear out of Jesus. He looks across at Jesus' mother, then back up at Jesus, and slowly says,

"Surely this man was the Son of God."

Normally, the bodies of the crucified are left to rot or are thrown into shallow pits. But Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea have secured special

permission from Pilate to take the body down and bury it decently. Tombs overlooking Jerusalem are normally reserved for the wealthiest citizens, but Joseph has arranged for an expensive, newly hewn tomb to be the final resting place of the Messiah. Normally, a tomb contained the bodies of several family members, but Jesus' body would be the first and only body to be laid there.

The two stately elders, the older Mary and the younger Mary, and

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John gingerly retrieve the mangled Messianic body and prepare it for burial and, unwittingly, for its forthcoming bodily resurrection. His mother lovingly washes him with a sponge, cleaning away all the dirt and dried blood while the other Mary tears strips of linen. Mother Mary places one over Jesus' face.

Nicodemus anoints each cleansed portion of the body with fragrant oils.

Nicodemus prays over Jesus the entire time. Then the process of wrapping his body in linen begins. It is a long, emotional process, the official beginning of Jewish mourning.

A vast slab of stone is the opening of a cave, and Jesus' body is placed inside. The body of Jesus, immaculately wrapped in linen, lies alone on a hewn rock. Strong servants of Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea roll the rock over the opening of the tomb to make sure that the body won't be disturbed. Night has fallen, so the burial party lights torches to guide their way back down the path. As the group begins to leave, they are surprised to see a pair of Roman guards stepping forth to stand sentry. Pilate is fearful





that if the body of Jesus disappears, all of Jerusalem will riot. Better to make sure it doesn't leave the tomb.

All over Jerusalem, the people are celebrating the Passover. But in the small upper room where Jesus and his disciples took their last meal, the mood is somber. The disciples expected the Kingdom of God to come when they entered Jerusalem six days ago. Now everything they believe in has been destroyed. Their hope is gone. They have lost everything. They eat a small quiet meal together, certain that within moments Caiaphas or Pilate will send soldiers to arrest them.

The morning of the third day after Jesus' death, Mary Magdalene takes it upon herself to go visit the tomb. She misses Jesus enormously, and even the prospect of sitting outside his burial site is a source of comfort. Her eyes are tired as she ascends a small hill. She knows that even in the early morning fog, she will be able to see the tomb from the top, and

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she begins looking once she gets there. The entrance to the tomb stands open. The rock has been moved aside. She gasps. Someone has stolen Jesus' body. Mary fearfully takes a step toward the open tomb, but she doesn't dare enter.

Perhaps grave robbers are still inside, prepared to beat her for interrupting their labors. Then, an unrecognizable, distant figure standing on the ridgeline catches her eye. "Teacher?" Mary asks in a small and terrified voice. For a moment, Mary thinks she sees Jesus alive. But she can't be sure. Soon the figure disappears from sight. The fact remains that the tomb is open and the body isn't there.

Where is Jesus?

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