| I Jesus is Condemned |
1 Convention sees a sun-filled morning when deep shadows cast elongated icons; when night's cool comfort lingers alien amid the bright'ning shallows as the dawn's resigned surrender to the rising heat well follows the rooster's crow; when a crowd assembles in the courtyard to complete the plot birthed under night's seditious shroud. -Horizon sun on Roman armor burns the eyes. The polished marble columns flame. To The Man, indistinct in brightness, turns The judge engaged to indulge human shame. On steps his shadow fractures. He issues a query, "Are you the king of the Jews?" | |
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Now as he was seated in the chair of
judgment, his wife sent him a message, 'Have nothing to do with that upright
man; I have been extremely upset today by a dream that I had about him.'
St. Matthew, 27:19 Jesus replied, 'Do you ask this of your own accord or have others said it to you about me?' Pilate answered, 'Am I a Jew? It is your own people and the chief priests who have handed you over to me: what have you done?'" St. John 18:34,35 |
2 Learned Pilate what thoughts thought you as you stood with tense guards, crazed crowd, and this innocent? Your wife's dream, did it trouble you? How could blind Justice see this deed with your consent? Rome conquers but only the rabble rules. Barabbas, then and now, the mob's dictate. Preferring the murderous thug, what fools we play; what poverty our souls' estate. From our hands, prism drops of water fall. We dry them. We deny our part in it. We choose to cower not to stand, like all Have done: ease over morals, lies to grit. Contempt had Pilate for truth, he well knew When he cynic'lly asked, "Am I a Jew?" | |
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"Pilate said, 'So then, you are a
king?' Jesus answered, 'It is you who say that I am a king. I was
born for this, I came into the world for this, to bear witness to the truth;
and all who are on the side of truth listen to my voice.' 'Truth?' said
Pilate, 'What is that? And so saying he went out again to the Jews
and said, 'I find no case against him. But according to a custom
of yours I should release one prisoner at the Passover; would you like
me, then, to release for you the king of the Jews?' At this they
shouted, 'Not this man,' they said, 'but Barabbas.' Barabbas was a bandit." St. John, 18:37-40 |
3 So judgment is passed and a crowd sufficed. The sentence sounds the words: to crucify. The pure unblemished will be sacrificed For these souls here that bought Hell's empty lie That sins are naught. Oh Lord, silver we pay to have you bound. "Barabbas" we elect, when making our choice. And too well we play our part in this world's greed. Yet, so select of all our sins is aiding injustice. We leave the poor to famish, the infirm abandoned, the un-loved unloved, and this you die to forgive, the proud human worm. As you stand mute in that morn's fading youth, Does Pilate know that you are, "What is Truth?" | |
| II Jesus Accepts the Cross St. Mark, 15:15 |
1 It trickles down your legs, red ooze from wounds to which frayed whips applied their flaying prongs. The soldiers' jest of thorny wreath festoons your scarlet scalp. Slimed sandal soles and thongs caress your feet with dust suffused in blood. Your tunic's fabric bites your flesh peeled back. To eyes your bound hands raise to block the flood of stinging bloody sweat. Pain doesn't lack. The sun has moved in time; increased its heat. You stand alone, accepting this crowd's sneer. You smell the blood of your wounds, and the sweet clean odor of freshly cut wood is near. Would you remember now your works hand-made well learned from him who taught you skills and trade? | |
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When they had done everything the Law of the Lord required, they went back to Galilee, to their town in Nazareth. St. Luke, 2:39 |
2 Would you now bring to mind a long past day when work was done in the carpenter's shop and you and Joseph bade all cares full stop to watch sheep wool clouds in the blue sky play? Perhaps it was outside in grass you lay with shoulders resting on elbows as prop permitting cool caressing air to mop toil's cleansing sweat, hard labor's ready pay. Your Mother came with some drink and some food, fresh bread with olives and new fragrant cheese. Each ate enjoying the beauty and mood, with thanks to the One, only love may please. As aging Joseph supped, did he enjoy recollections of you as babe and boy? | |
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and carrying his own cross he went out to the Place of the Skull or, as it is called in Hebrew, Golgotha. St. John, 19:17 |
3 Now through these memories heckler's taunts pierce, and snarling words stab, "Crazed fool! False Prophet! Blasphemer!" they kick dust, spit and wave fierce hand gestures. If to the future you set your eyes; then what is offered by coming time? Parched and slow torture by suffocation's tight wrenching claws, where death in your prime is moot to rioting warring factions? And if farther in time your soul would fly what would you see, but more hate and the hoard of poor and the tortured who bleed. So why accept beams combined and not flee, O Lord? Abuse and hate on scourged shoulders you place, And by the cross raise Love's redeeming Grace. | |
| III Jesus Falls the First Time |
1 One step and then another; the sun blares its strident brass rays on the parting throng; a step with toes gripping a bloody thong into the crowd's maw; a step through the glares of smug accusers snarling their affair's success; a step and the slivered cross's long shadow licks the cobbles of human wrong. You step. The cross drags. A frightened child stares. Moist round eyes gather the crude spectacle of death- a bleeding struggling weakened Son. Confused tears surge as the maniacal procession bellows past in sport and fun. With horror this child glimpses your pained face and wonders to what end loud humans race. | |
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When the soldiers had finished crucifying Jesus they took his clothing and divided
it into four shares, one for each soldier. His undergarment was seamless,
woven in one piece from neck to hem; so they said to one another, 'Instead
of tearing it, let's throw dice to decide who is to have it.' In this way
the words of scripture were fulfilled: They divide my garments
among them and cast lots for my clothes. That is what the soldiers
did. St. John, 19:23.24 |
2 "You've beat him well, straight odds he dies this street." --True my arm's sore, but he's a robust breed who'll face Golgotha's test and in time greet gaunt Charon's boat. "So you find here no need to wager, eh?" --It would be theft, my friend. "Ha, fine, I'll get your money later then." --My purse will stay full, 'tis you who'll expend. Arm strength is yours, winning bets is my ken" --hmm, odd this day, what mood the crowd is in. "What has he done, this Jew?" --Oh, he's the son of their god. It offends them. "The shrill din tells me as much, such noise beyond reason." --Aye it hurts my ears, give this snail a prod and let's make quick work of their Son of God. | |
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My knees are weak from lack of food, my body lean for lack of fat.
I have become the butt of their taunts, they shake their heads at the sight of me."
Psalms 109(v108): 24,25 |
3 Through sleepless night and into tortured morn this laden and abandoned man has trod. Where stand his chosen ones now? Do they scorn the teacher who embraced them and defraud the Love he shared with them? How His men turn. When outcomes aren't what they would deem, they shirk all loyalty to Him and fully spurn their victim king and to bare hovels lurk. Beating, beaming, crying, clapping, the crowd creates the drama of execution, and walk the victim to death's waiting shroud, one step with a step to crucifixion. The Man is turned by malevolent calls, a butt of spear prods, our loving Lord falls. |