Letters From Golgotha: Reactions To The Cross

Note: This message consists of a series of letters inspired by the experiences of five eyewitnesses to the crucifixion of Jesus.

Simon.

To my father,

The strangest thing happened to us today. The boys and I were headed into town so we could be at the temple in time for the morning sacrifice, to catch a couple of the priests' lessons, but before we arrived, we were stopped in the street by soldiers to make way for some prisoners on their way to be crucified. The first two men being led out were unremarkable except for the fact that they were charged only as “robbers.” I didn't think Romans executed people for petty theft, but I overheard someone saying that they were actually rebels. Robbery was just the only charge the governor, who I've heard has a reputation for brutality, could make stick.

That third man, though... Father, I've seen plenty of crucifixions. It seemed every town and village we passed through on the way here had at least one or two going on. I explained to the boys that this was the price we paid for doing something against the Romans and that, when Messiah comes, we won't have to fear their brutality anymore, but I thought that, after two or three, I had seen everything. But I had never seen anyone so beaten, so bloodied as this man.

I told Alexander to not look, and I tried to cover young Rufus' eyes with my hand. But for some reason, I just could not pull my own eyes from this man. There was just something magnetic about him.

Maybe it was the charge against him. The placard read, “king of the Jews.” I thought it was strange, so I asked someone standing there. They said that he was Jesus of Nazareth and that he had claimed to be the messiah. Immediately, I recognized the name. This was the guy who people had been talking about all week. Apparently, on Sunday, when he arrived, the whole city had been in an uproar, thinking He was about to restore the kingdom. When we got here Tuesday, everyone was talking about how he had driven out all the merchants and such from the temple courts and then sat down and started teaching. They said he had done miracles, and I think we actually saw him – well, the crowd around him – on Wednesday.

The man I asked said, “So much for being the messiah.” But as I watched this Jesus... maybe it was the way he carried himself. The first prisoner was cursing and yelling, struggling against the guards and railing against the people. The second was sobbing, begging for his life. Now, I have seen this kind of stuff who knows how many times before in people being led to be crucified. But Jesus didn't fight or cry. Instead, despite the blood and even the fact that he could barely walk, there was an indescribable dignity about him.

And then there were his eyes. Instead of anger or desperation, they were filled with what I can only describe as love and determination. And when he looked at me, I felt that they pierced to my very core. It was as though he knew me. I mean, maybe it was just my imagination, but I think that, as he stumbled and fell that last time, he actually looked into my eyes and saw my very soul.

At any rate, it was about then that the guards became sick of waiting for him. He was apparently holding up the procession, and you know how they're always in a hurry to crucify people. I think the Romans enjoy the specter of death a little more than is healthy or even natural. So they removed his cross, and the centurion ordered me to carry it for Jesus. Of course, I tried to explain that I had my boys, but that Gentile wouldn't hear anything of it. He grabbed me and threw me that way. So I told Alexander to watch Rufus and follow as closely as they could, and then I picked up that cross.

It was heavier than I expected. Probably a hundred pounds or so. And rougher. I think I'll be pulling splinters for a year. And talk about blood! The thing was covered! At first, I couldn't figure out where all of it had come from, but as Jesus struggled back to his feet, I realized that his back was completely raw. In fact, I knew then that it was absolutely amazing that he was even conscious, let alone walking at all.

Well, we made our way through the streets to a place just outside of Jerusalem that they call Golgotha. I guess it kind of looks like a skull, but I didn't notice. All around us, the crowds were jeering, throwing stones, and spitting. Talk about disgusting. But Jesus was silent the whole way. And when we reached the place where they were going to actually crucify him, as they took the cross from me and prepared to pound those nails into his wrists, I swear Jesus looked at me and mouthed the words “thank you.”

Father, I know that this is going to sound strange. And maybe that's why I just had to write to you. But as they raised Jesus up into place, I found myself absolutely transfixed. And as the soldiers cast lots for his clothes and the priests – the priests! - were taunting him mercilessly, I could not help but re-read that charge against him and think to myself, “This man was the king of the Jews.” But somehow, that didn't seem right. And then it dawned on me. It should have been, “This man is the king of the Jews.”

I know you don't think too much about all this spiritual mumbo-jumbo. I can't say I ever did before, either. But Father, as I stood there at the foot of that cross today, I knew that this wasn't the last that the world would hear of Jesus. And I knew, somehow, that how I choose to respond to him will affect my life forever.

Well, I don't know what I'm going to do about all this. I hear Jesus' disciples are still in town. Maybe I'll go look for them after the Sabbath.

At any rate, give my best to Mother. We'll see you soon.

Annas, High Priest Emeritus

To Caiaphas, my son-in-law and High Priest.

Congratulations! Our plan worked spectacularly! That slimy pretender from Nazareth is out of our hair forever. Let's see the people shout and carry on about all that “Hosanna!” business now!

I know, it's irritating having to deal with the Romans, but you can't argue with the fact that they are brutally efficient when it comes to killing. And that is exactly what had to happen. As I told you many times, if that sniveling snake had lived, he would have corrupted the people, stirring them to rebellion. And then the Romans would have been after us instead.

I understand the man who led us to that Christ came to you to return his reward. You did the right thing by not accepting it. And the fact that his guilty conscience led him to hang himself in that field is of no consequence to us. He was likely a disturbed soul long before we ever met him. In fact, I suspect that it was one of the demons that enabled that carpenter to do so-called miracles which tormented him until he could stand it no more. He should have grateful for the part that we allowed him to play in history.

We must now return our attention – and that of the people – to the Passover. This will be complicated, unfortunately, by the other events of today. To be frank, the unusually long eclipse and earthquake will likely stir some people to think that there was some cosmic significance to the death of that blasphemer. We must not hesitate to remind them that he claimed to be the messiah and yet could not even save himself from that cross. And then, I think the most effective course will be to simply remind them of that fact over and over again. They must not be allowed to think that he was anything more than a lunatic.

Be sure to have someone at the temple to repair the curtain as soon as the Sabbath is over tomorrow. We don't want word to get out that people can just waltz straight into the Holy of Holies. If someone were to think this was the result of that man's death – that, because he died, they can now have direct access to God – imagine the ramifications. No, we must do everything in our power to ensure that does not happen.

Shalom.

Lucius, centurion in the service of His Excellency, Caesar.

To my beloved wife,

My dearest, I have seen something most astounding today. This morning, as happens every so often, I was called upon to command an execution squad. Ordinarily, this is a trivial matter. To preserve order in the Empire, we must uphold the unshakable foundation of authority through the swift and decisive execution of justice. And the most effective way to make certain that no one challenges these things is to make a show of those who would stand against us.

Truth be told, though it is certainly not as glamorous as conquering barbarians, commanding the execution squad does have at least two benefits. The first is that executioners get to divide the prisoners' minor effects. Usually, there isn't much more than a few strips of linen and whatever we seized from them when they were arrested. Today, though, I picked up a rather nice dagger from one of the men. I may use it for a boot knife when we return to the front lines. And the second benefit of commanding the execution squad is that we get to exercise our skills as soldiers. In fact, while it may not be quite like the gladiators in the colliseums, many of us like to think of the whole thing as our own miniature sport.

Today, though, was different. We were given charge of three men, two of which we knew were guilty of insurrection even if the only charge we could confirm was that they had stolen a couple of swords from some of the men that they ambushed. But the third man was unlike anyone I had ever met.

I suppose I should have known something was different when the governor actually tried to set him free. The people back home would enjoy Pilate, my love. He is joyfully gruesome, but I heard the other day that he was actually reprimanded by the emperor for going too far. Perhaps that's why he hesitated to crucify this third man, but I think there was more.

You see, as strange as it may sound, as we drove the stakes into that man's arms and legs this morning, he made no sound whatsoever. Now, I have heard the cries and seen the wonderful agony enough to know that it must have hurt. But still, he was silent.

Then there was the unusually large crowd. I heard that the man's name was Jesus, and he was some sort of teacher or false prophet from up north, but I had thought that Jesus was popular with these Jews. Today, the Jews were merciless in their glares and abuse. In fact, even their priests were out there joining in and spitting on him. And still, he never said a word.

About noon, as the men were breaking out their lunches, something most extraordinary happened. The sun went dark. Now, I have heard of these eclipse things happening before. And I know that ancients considered them bad omens or something, but as you know, I don't put much stock in superstition. Today, though, the darkness was, in a word, palpable. It was as though a sudden and inescapable chill – like the ones I've felt physically during the third and fourth watch on the front – descended upon my soul.

And then, as though that wasn't enough, there was an earthquake. Now, understand that earthquakes aren't particularly uncommon in this part of the world. I remember a few tremors during my time in Asia. But this one... I've never experienced anything like it. It was as though the earth was shaken to its very core, as though the whole world was shuddering at the horrific prospect of that man on the cross.

And maybe that was the strangest thing. I had this unmistakable sense that it was all about that third man, the one who didn't say anything!

All I can say is that I have never been so glad to see the sun as I was when it reappeared at about 3 this afternoon. But then the strangest thing of all happened. This Jesus character shouted. Well, probably, it would be more accurate to say that he wailed or cried out. Some of the people thought he was calling on Elijah, who I guess is one of the Jews' prophets or something, but I actually heard what he said. He cried out, his voice absolutely broken, but strangely not even remotely desperate, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” And then he died.

Now, my darling, you need to understand something. People don't die within six hours of being crucified. That's part of what makes it such a tremendously effective tool for keeping order. They suffer, usually for two or three or even four days. In excruciating pain. And then they pass out, but they still hang there for several hours more. At the very least, they don't have the strength to cry out as this man did!

No, there was something most astounding about that man, and I have to tell you, I can come to only one conclusion. A lot of the Jews had thought he was to be their messiah. A few even concluded that he was far more than a mere man. And I have to admit today that I think these people are right. The darkness, the earthquake, the shout... it was as though the Jews' god himself was mourning this man's death. Truly, I think this man was the Son of God.

Anyway, tomorrow, we will be patrolling the area surrounding the Jews' temple. You should see that place, my love. I've been a lot of places and seen a lot of things in the service of the Empire, but that complex is spectacular. Next week, my unit will be guarding the Praetorium, where the governor stays when he is in Jerusalem. I doubt he will still be in town, though. When I spoke with a centurion from his personal guard, it sounded like the governor was eager to leave this backwater and return to Caesarea.

There's a rumor we may be headed back to the front in a few weeks until reinforcements arrive from Rome, and then we may be home sometime in the fall. I cannot wait to see you again, my dear.

Greet the children.

I will see you soon.

Joseph.

My friend and brother Nicodemus.

I wanted to say thank you for your help this evening. I honestly don't know how we arrived at this day. It just doesn't seem real. I must admit that, when you first told me about your conversation with Jesus that night, I thought he must have been crazy. Who could be born again? It sounded ridiculous, but for some reason, I found it strangely compelling. And tonight, I think I finally understand.

It was greed which drove the Council to have Jesus executed. Greed mixed with more than a little power-mongering. They – no, we – were too busy trying to hold onto our own wealth, power and prestige to stop and truly consider what we were doing.

I know, Nicodemus, that you and I did not cast the vote that sent Jesus to Pilate, but were we not responsible simply by not saying anything at all? We could have challenged the midnight sessions. Protested the clearly false charges. Or at the very least questioned the decision to turn him over to the Romans.

Yes, we – you and I – sent an innocent man to die today.

Surely, if there was any doubt that our race is broken and sinful, we have seen today what I believe history will likely remember as the single most grievous, irrefutable example of all time. We deliberately and maliciously hunted down a man that – and can there be any doubt of this after the darkness and earthquake this afternoon? – truly was the Son of God. And for what? So that we wouldn't be hung up there with him?

My friend, Jesus was exactly right in what he said to you that night a lifetime ago. We must be born again. Not literally, obviously. But the first time we are born, we are clearly bent toward evil. We must therefore be reborn, remade so that that bent can be overcome.

And if that bent is to be overcome, it cannot be enough to simply sit quietly by while others continue to follow its destructive course. We cannot simply sit quietly by.

To that end, Nicodemus, I have reached a conclusion. I can no longer remain a secret follower of Jesus. Though I do not know what will happen of his teachings, or how posterity will ultimately recall his wonders, I do know that I cannot sit idly by while others figure that out. And I would submit, my friend, that neither can you.

To remain a so-called secret follower of Jesus, at this point, is a contradiction of terms. If we are to endorse his teachings and embrace him as the Son of God that I think we both believe him to be, then we must come forward, profess our belief, pursue his teachings, and let the whole world know that we are followers of the Christ.

Who knows but that's not exactly what today was all about? To clearly illustrate our own sinfulness and compel men like you and I to choose to either continue wallowing in that sinfulness or to leave it all behind and embrace the life and message of Jesus wholeheartedly. I mean, didn't he say just the other day that he had to die?

My friend, I believe that Jesus was – is – the Son of God. I believe He wanted – wants – me to pattern my life after everything he did and said. I believe that Jesus would have me emerge from the shadows and choose this day who I will follow. It just seems to me that my secrecy was a direct cause of his death. And I cannot stand to let that be true ever again.

I know today was difficult for you, as it was for me. And I know that sitting through temple tomorrow may be the single most difficult thing I will ever do. But I also know that, come Sunday, I will choose to be an open follower of Jesus, the Christ. I will choose to live the life He called us all to live.

I hope you will join me. And I hope that, together, we can locate his disciples so that we may join them.

And you know, Nicodemus, something tells me we haven't heard the last of Jesus. I honestly don't know what that means, but I do believe that this will be merely the beginning of the most amazing and exciting transformation of our lives.

I will look for you on Sunday.

Mary.

Martha, my beloved sister.

Where were you today? I know you were busy, and I know it was scary with the trials, the people, and the crucifixion. But I wished you were there.

Martha, I know you were expecting Jesus to restore the kingdom. I think we all were. But didn't he tell us this had to happen? Who knows but that this is all a part of the plan? I mean, he did raise Lazarus after three days. And he did say that he had to die but would be raised again.

You wouldn't have believed the priests and teachers. They were so proud, so pompous, it made me sick. I think they actually enjoyed watching Jesus suffer like that. They certainly relished the idea that they had won. I see now what Jesus meant when he called them a brood of vipers.

And then there were the soldiers. I couldn't believe they could laugh and joke and divide those men's clothes and such as though it was nothing at all. You know, they almost tore that rag Jesus had worn into pieces so that they would all get their share. But then they decided to cast lots for the whole thing instead. And when it was all over, they just went back to work as though it was no big deal. Talk about callousness.

After Jesus – I can hardly bear to write the word – passed, a couple of men came and took him down. I know I've seen them before when Jesus was teaching. I remember that they had tried to make it look like they weren't listening, staying just beyond the crowd and sometimes pretending to be more interested in something else. I think they were members of the Sanhedrin. They were probably afraid of what would happen if they truly followed Jesus. But that fear didn't seem to stop them this afternoon. They took Jesus down from that cross, wrapped him in linen, and took him away, down to a tomb in that garden just over from Golgotha.

None of the others could bear to watch, but Jesus' mother and I just had to follow. And Martha, I will never forget the love that they showed Jesus as they carried him there. I know Peter, James, John and the others were too afraid – too ashamed? – to get near, but these two men – how I wish I knew their names! – I think they were crying as they picked Jesus up and carried him in their arms as one would a small child.

Oh, Martha! I know that Jesus is gone, but I also know that we must not fall away now! To do so would make us no better than the Council that celebrated their victory today. No better than the Romans who just went on with business as usual.

I just know that this whole thing is not over. No, I think it's just beginning, and we must choose to follow even now. We must choose to live as Jesus taught us to live. We must choose to tell others so that they, too, will follow and live. We must choose.

Oh, Martha, a couple of us are going to the grave as early as we can Sunday. I hope you'll come with us. I'll understand if you can't, though. I don't even know how we'll open the tomb. And I hear the Romans posted guards to keep people out. But maybe someone will be there to help.

You know, I remember Jesus once said that “God so loved the world that He gave His only son, that whoever believes in him would not perish but have everlasting life.” If Jesus is the Son of God, which I think we both know He is, then I guess this is the time we need to show that we really believe.