The sun slowly rises over the horizon, the air sticky with dew; a man slowly rises and prepares for the day. His wife awakens and as she prepares for breakfast the man puts on his red tunic, followed by his baltea, he grabs his caligae to cover his feet, his armor and galea rest on the edge of the table. Small talk is made as the. Sun's rays break through the clouds, a casting a shadow upon their table. Hurried, the man finishes his meal and drink, finishes clothing himself with his armor and galea, grabs his spear and exits his house. As he begins his walk toward the center of town, the bells toll.
"You are lucky I cover for you, you are late again!"
"Yeah, yeah, I had to eat, leave me alone. Besides today will be a long day, relax I'll prove my worth, I always do!"
Their conversation ends abruptly when the head of the guards walks into the court yard. "You, you will lead the procession today, you will make sure the prisoner gets to his death in a timely manner." "Yes, sir."
"And you, you will be in charge of seeing to it that the prisoner knows his place, that should He fall out of line, the pain you will inflict upon him will serve as a reminder to do as you say." "Sir, yes, sir", he said with a huge grin on his face. Today, he thought, would be his shinning moment, today would be his chance to move up in ranks. Proving his allegiance to Rome he had accomplished some time ago and now his chance to prove his allegiance to Caesar, himself! Adrenaline started pumping and the crowd started to gather and chant,"Crucify him, crucify him!" This only made the guard more anxious to fulfill his duty.
The prisoner was brought to the courtyard where he was presented to the people who continued their chant of, "Crucify him!" With that he was stripped of his garments, taken to the whipping pole, arms bound around the pole and the guard began to flog him. With every rip of the skin, with every trickle of blood, the guard gained more energy, his veins flooded with excitement. His swings did not weaken and the prisoner left bloodied after only several, yet brutal, swings. The crowd cheers! The chief guard makes eye contact with the one instructed to inflict pain, he nods with approval; the guard is proud.
Released from the pole, the prisoner is taken to the center of the court and, once again presented to the daunting crowd. "Crucify him, crucify him!" the sun now warm, the air thick making for even those in the crowd gasping for air, and there, the prisoner stands beaten, bloodied, struggling for his breath. The guards pay no attention as they are invigorated by the cheers of the crowd. They seek to humiliate this prisoner, to weaken him, to inflict excruciating pain even before his procession of death. A crown made of thorns is presented to the guard. He accepts the charge and places the crown upon the head of the prisoner. It rests on the brow for a second, the guard looks into the crowd, no cheering is made so he presses the crown into the temple of the prisoner, blood pours forth so he pushes even harder and mockingly yells, "All hail king of the Jews!" The crowd goes wild, they cheer with such excitement, such hatred that the streets echo with their shouts. Proud, the guard turns to the chief and to Caesar, both give him a look of satisfaction as pandemonium breaks out. The guard grabs the prisoner as if he resists his hand and throws him to the ground. He yells for the prisoner to return to his feet, his voice assertive, he is fueled by the crowd. The prisoner returns to his feet and presented with a cross. At first, he was to walk with just the crossbar, but the solider rallied the crowd, "This man is so special, this man, so strong, I mean he is a king, right? Should we not treat him different from our other guests? Let us present him with the whole cross to carry, after all if he is a king, he is not weak, he will be able to endure the weight of this cross! Hahaha". He laughs for the sheer weight of the cross takes two Roman guards to lift and present to the beaten and bloodied prisoner. The prisoner accepts the cross, no wincing, no complaining, no verbiage does he speak, he simply puts the cross upon his shoulder. This infuriates the guard who thought the man unable to carry the cross, and now he looks the fool. He raises his whip and, as it lands upon the back of the prisoner, he feels nothing but hatred for this man, a man he never met, a man who never spoke, a man who looked at him with kind, loving eyes; the man who challenged his position...
The procession began and the prisoner carried the heavy wooden cross through the streets. Each slow step was met with a whip from the guard and each whip fed the guard's ego. The day long, the sun scorchingly hot and the guard becoming increasingly more uncomfortable as sweat pours from his galea. Aggravated at the duration of this walk, the guard takes out his frustration on the prisoner with his whip, each cut of the skin and the guard becomes more and more filled with hatred for the man never makes a sound, never does he whimper in pain. He does fall, dust flies through the air making it difficult for the guard to see and he becomes enraged as he kicks and yells at the prisoner to raise to his feet and continue. Eventually he does and the procession continues. The weight of the cross becomes a struggle for the prisoner and the guard taunts him, "See I know you we're weak, I knew you we no god. Ha, I proved your lies, and It will be my pleasure to see that you die today." His steps are slow but he continues along the path. The lead guard pulls a man from the crowd to help the prisoner carry the gigantic cross.
"What are you doing? You give him help? What, are you becoming sympathetic to his plight?"
"No, you fool, I must keep this procession moving, the crowd is tiring from the hot sun, if we continue at such a slow pace they crowd will lose interest."
"Fine but he only gets this one helper."
For a short while a man helps the prisoner carry his cross and the prisoner is able to breath. The crowd again begins their taunting their mockery of his worth...
"Aww, poor baby can't even carry his cross alone, he has to get help, a real man needs no help!" "See, he is weak!" And the shouts and jeers continued until the man was pushed back into the crowd and the prisoner the sole bearer of the heavy cross. The ploy had worked, the crowd again excited about the procession of death. The soldiers, themselves, were growing tired but regained zest with the excitement of the crowd. As the prisoner walked the guard whipped him and blood splattered into the crowd, the cheers grew louder. The guard continued his beating gaining hatred with each swing for he tired but could not show his exhaustion to the crowd. The man fell again and again the guard yelled and kicked him until he regained his footing. The procession seemed to last days and as the final climb to Golgotha was made, the guard again, began to mock the prisoner, "We are almost there, your final resting place, the place where I will show everyone my worth for you are nothing and I am everything. You walked the streets pretending to be other than you are, I walk these streets as I am, a great warrior, a great soldier and today I will prove it in YOUR death." He continued to speak and each word more hate-filled than the next.
The climb complete, the place of the skull reached. The tunic of the prisoner torn from his body though this a difficult task as the blood bonded to the fabric so with the removal of the tunic blood poured from the body of the prisoner. The cross places on the ground with the man upon it. The guard gathered the stakes and as he drove one into the wrist of the prisoner, a smile adorned his face...this his moment...the sound of metal on metal hauntingly echoed on the hill, bones could be heard breaking as blood splatter the guard. With each hit of the stake his enjoyment noticeable for he was being fueled by his hatred which compounded throughout the day. Arms attached and still no sound did the prisoner make. One last stake through his ankles, this proved more difficult and the guard breaking a sweat with each swing. Finally, the prisoner securely attached to the cross, the guard expecting cheers but the crowd was silent. Together the guards hoisted the cross into the air that all may see the prisoner. Cheers once again came from the crowd and the guard proud of his work. Hatred is driving force, hatred his demise.
The guard proved worth that day, only not his worth rather the worth of the prisoner. In his attempt of humiliation and vain-glory, he proved the prisoner was, indeed, a king for he proved the strength of that prisoner. He carried a heavy wooden cross through the streets, beaten, kicked, mocked, spit upon and no resistance did he offer. He carried a cross which took two guards to hand him, he endured the pain, he endure the hatred and yes he was crucified and died on a hill. But hatred had no room in the heart of this prisoner. As his arms were spread out upon the cross, only love remained in his heart. There, on top of the hill, in Golgotha, three crosses hoisted for all to see, for all to fear. The largest cross not a symbol of hatred only a symbol of love.
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