Golgotha

I recently came across an old beaten and well worn manuscript. Its content is one of great interest to me and I believe that others might find it of sincere importance. As far as I can tell, it comes from a person writing down their account of the holy week in which Jesus was crucified. True or not, this exceptional story is one worth sharing.

I never went to visit Jesus and his disciples last night, and today I’m wishing that I did. Today was a brutal day that none of us saw coming. Today was soul crushing, body bleeding, and heart wrenching. Jesus of Nazareth was crucified. 

This was never supposed to happen. Even if I did disagree with some of his teachings and rebellious inclinations, no one deserves the death penalty. Humanity’s worse self was revealed at the cross. I followed him along the way to Golgotha, though once there I did not stay long because I could not bear to watch any more. 

I could see it in their faces; those that sent him to Pilate to be judged. Maybe they regretted it, but they certainly came to fully understand what they did to this teacher. Even the Romans did not enjoy the torturous process. Their faces grimacing with Jesus’ heavy breathing. The purple robe and crown of roses which the Romans gave to him out of respect—for they had never seen someone, in all their worshiping of Mars, withstand such beatings—lie at the foot of the bloody cross. The rose buds had fallen off and left only a crown of thorns. How appropriate, for this teacher will be remembered through his pain he endured. 

G-D lost a son today, and we lost a brother. Rest in peace, Jesus of Nazareth. May Sheol welcome you graciously, and dwell there in Abraham’s bosom.