From time to time, I write pieces for use in church. I'm particularly fond of the times when I find myself writing from the point of view of characters in the Bible narrative.
Here are some of them.
Good Friday 2010
Cries by the Cross
Mary’s tale:
“And when they had crucified him, they divided his clothes among themselves by casting lots; then they sat down there and kept watch over him. Over his head they put the charge against him, which read, ‘This is Jesus, the King of the Jews.’
Those who passed by derided him, shaking their heads and saying, ‘You who would destroy the temple and build it in three days, save yourself! If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross.’
In the same way the chief priests also, along with the scribes and elders, were mocking him, saying, ‘He saved others; he cannot save himself.’”
Mary – wailing, “crying down heaven” -
Nooooooooo!
Be quiet; be quiet – all of you!
How can you?
Can’t you see? Can’t you see what you’re doing; what you’re saying? He’s a good man, the best man I ever knew, and it’s not enough for you, to kill him like some thief, like some animal – worse than an animal. Oh no! You have to spit on him and wag your heads at him.
Be quiet? Noooooooooo; I won’t be quiet. If I don’t speak, these very stones will cry out for me!
I know what you think I am; and I was; I was. You’re right. I’m Mary, yes, that Mary. The Mary who fuelled gossip for miles around; who set tongues wagging and offended your women folk – until they saw my dresses and perfumes and braided hair that is. Then their only offence was jealousy!
And the same Mary who you weighed and judged by your bitter Law - by daylight! – and weighed and judged by different measures when darkness fell!
You’d hush me, wouldn’t you? What right have I to speak? I, the lowest of the low? Midden for your vengeful outpourings?
That’s my right! I can speak because I am right at the bottom of your terrible hierarchy of distaste. I cannot go lower in your eyes; and so I could speak just because you cannot hurt me with anything you might say in return!
But you’re wrong; so wrong! I can speak but not for the reason you think! I can speak because I am no longer the Mary that you knew, the Mary of scent and silks, and subtlety and senses. No! No longer that Mary!
I am Mary ben Jahweh! Mary born of God! Blasphemy! Blasphemy? I happily add that to the list of crimes you throw at me. And - I - plead - INNOCENT!
Yes! I washed his feet! Yes, I poured out my richness, all I was and had in a single, extravagant flood over his feet, setting the house afloat on waves of nard for days. And in return? In return He - washed – me! Washed me clean, clean of everything that I ever did or said or was, except the simple, loved Mary of God’s eye.
Mary ben-Jahweh!
So now, when you scream your shrill accusations, your spittle-bearded taunts, “He saved others” then know, know that you speak the truth!
And leave him to die.
Dear God, I can’t believe I’m saying this! leave him to die in peace.
Be gone, you vipers!
Be gone; be gone; be gone.
Peter:
“One of the criminals who were hanged there kept deriding him and saying, ‘Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!’ But the other rebuked him, saying, ‘Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong.’ Then he said, ‘Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.’ He replied, ‘Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.’”
Peter (choking back tears of self-rage!)
Nooooo! It’s not fair! That’s my place; I said I would die alongside him and now look; some no-good low-life takes my place. Oh! He mocks me! He places that damned bird’s talon deep within my heart and twists; and twists and twists.
A cockerel! King of the dung-heap! “and on this rock I will build my church!” Hah!
Such pointed cruelty. He knew; he knew that I would find it impossible and yet he just let me wander on. ‘Pray that you may not come into the time of trial.’ ha! How could he? How could he?
Look! What futility this is! See how they mock him; everyone from the thief to the palace! He’s failed! He’s failed!
And we’ve failed with him.
When he could have done it differently.
Maybe Judas was right!
Maybe!
“From noon on, darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon. And about three o’clock Jesus cried with a loud voice, ‘Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?’ that is, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’”
Peter (in desperation!)
Oh my God! Did you hear that? Did you hear?
Like the great blood-churning of a slaughtered bull, lungs bursting with blood and defeat, its very life flooding the altar. Eloi! Eloi! Lema sabachthani!
He’s deserted! He’s deserted.
He is! What about us!? Aren’t we deserted? Aren’t we left alone?
His God has left him; I thought he lived for us! And now he is broken to this; sobbing for his God in his last terror. In our last terror. For if his God has left him, what is there for us? How can we ever hope to carry on if God has left? And all we are left with is each other.
See him there; flung over a pole like something from the abattoir. All blood and misery. And the little ones around his feet; Mary and Mary and John, huddled together for comfort and consolation.
And I cannot go near! Cannot – go – near!
He pushed me away; sent me off into the darkness; left me to betray him; to desert him, to forsake him!
Noooooo!
“My God! My God! Why have you forsaken me!”
It’s me, I betrayed Him; I deserted him! He never left, he’s still there, hanging in my place, for all the world like some terrible accusation, against my treachery! Opening his arms to love us from this bestial, broken place.
My God! My God! Why have I forsaken you?
Oh, my God! My God!
Mary, the Mother of Jesus:
“Since it was the day of Preparation, the Jews did not want the bodies left on the cross during the Sabbath, especially because that Sabbath was a day of great solemnity. So they asked Pilate to have the legs of the crucified men broken and the bodies removed. Then the soldiers came and broke the legs of the first and of the other who had been crucified with him.
But when they came to Jesus and saw that he was already dead, they did not break his legs. Instead, one of the soldiers pierced his side with a spear, and at once blood and water came out. ”
Mary (with terrible realisation):
No! ( a little sound, almost a caught breath!)
No; Oh Simeon! At last, at last. Such a long time – and yet yesterday.
“…and a sword shall pierce your own heart also!”
How you knew; Oh! How you knew! My heart is breaking; and see, in this one life, in this brief turn from My soul magnifies the Lord, to this, a soul pierced by a sword!
Ahhhhhhhh.
See the fragments of his life slip away;
as I watch the sparkling, bloody drops down his poor, beaten side?
How can I hold them together? Scoop them up like the wine he once poured out in such wedding profusion. "Woman, my time has not yet come"!
I have lost him time without number; in the temple when he was but a boy, in the crowds when he spoke to them, in the fuss when we came to the city, in the garden last night.
And now; now I have lost him finally; and found him at last.
Here, in this dreadful place he comes into his own.
And what of the rest?
“my eyes have seen your salvation,
which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples,
a light for revelation to the Gentiles
and for glory to your people Israel.”
One thing I have learned; learned down all this time.
He has never left me; from that first moment he has never left me;
And will not leave me now.
___________________________________________________________________________________
Here - from 2005 - is another meditation for Good Friday
The meditation takes the form of a continuous reading from the Gospel according to John, Chapter 18.1 - 19.42, interspersed with the reminiscences of eight people, not all of whom are named in the gospel. The piece requires a plain wooden cross and a pitcher of water with an empty glass.
The congregation were given the guidance:
As each character speaks, you might like to ask yourself, “What do I hear? How is this voice still active in the world today? Is this a voice with which I can identify? Is this voice me?”
After each character has spoken,
we shall pause in silence a while and then prayerfully sing together
Amazing grace!
How sweet the sound
that saved a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found;
was blind, but now I see.
The voices belong to:
Peter, a fisherman
Ruben, a herdsman
Naomi, a seamstress
Moshe, a carpenter
Samuel, a smith
Athanix, a soldier
Joseph of Arimathea, a merchant
and Nicodemus, a Pharisee
The meditation was first held in an ordinary church, in front of the Chancel steps. The Reader sat in the priest’s chair beneath the pulpit; a plain, wooden cross was placed on the Chancel steps. Members of the congregation came forward to the lectern side to deliver the character’s parts.
Reader:
Some time before, Jesus had asked the Samaritan woman for a drink of water. In the conversation that followed, Jesus said to her: “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life”.
Pour a good glass of water from the pitcher, leaving plenty in the pitcher. Leave both in plain view.
"Jesus is the water of life."
Collect
Almighty Father,
look with mercy on this your family
for which our Lord Jesus Christ was content to be betrayed
and given up into the hands of sinners
and to suffer death upon the cross;
who is alive and glorified with you and the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.
" Only yesterday we remembered how, during supper, Jesus had poured water into a bowl and washed his disciple’s feet. When they protested he told them: “Unless I wash you, you have no part in me”.
After they had eaten
Jesus went out with his disciples across the Kidron valley to a place where there was a garden, which he and his disciples entered.
Now Judas, who betrayed him, also knew the place, because Jesus often met there with his disciples. So Judas brought a detachment of soldiers together with police from the chief priests and the Pharisees, and they came there with lanterns and torches and weapons.
Then Jesus, knowing all that was to happen to him, came forward and asked them, ‘For whom are you looking?’ They answered, ‘Jesus of Nazareth.‘ Jesus replied, ‘I am he’.
Judas, who betrayed him, was standing with them. When Jesus said to them, ‘I am he’, they stepped back and fell to the ground. Again he asked them, ‘For whom are you looking?' And they said, ‘Jesus of Nazareth.’ Jesus answered, ‘I told you that I am he. So if you are looking for me, let these men go.’
So the soldiers, their officer, and the Jewish police arrested Jesus and bound him. First they took him to Annas, who was the father-in-law of Caiaphas, the high priest that year. Caiaphas was the one who had advised the Jews that it was better to have one person die for the people.
Simon Peter and another disciple followed Jesus. Since that disciple was known to the high priest, he went with Jesus into the courtyard of the high priest, but Peter was standing outside at the gate. So the other disciple, who was known to the high priest, went out, spoke to the woman who guarded the gate, and brought Peter in. The woman said to Peter, ‘You are not also one of this man's disciples, are you?' He said, ‘I am not.’
Now the slaves and the police had made a charcoal fire because it was cold, and they were standing around it and warming themselves. Peter also was standing with them and warming himself.
Then the high priest questioned Jesus about his disciples and about his teaching. Then Annas sent him bound to Caiaphas the high priest.
Now Simon Peter was standing and warming himself. They asked him, ‘You are not also one of his disciples, are you?' He denied it and said, ‘I am not.’ One of the slaves of the high priest, a relative of the man whose ear Peter had cut off, asked, ‘Did I not see you in the garden with him?’ Again Peter denied it, and at that moment the cock crowed.
Peter
I know it’s not a fashionable thing to say, but I’ve loved him ever since I met him. He’s like a brother to me; I’d do anything, dare anything, risk anything for him. But when it came to it, I just couldn’t.
I hate places like that, all those flunkeys and police and guards and officials and such-like.
Look, I’m just a fisherman, right? My life, before I met him, was boats and nets and fish. And we were good at it, too. Not a neater boat or a better crew in all of Galilee, ‘though I say it myself.
And I’m no coward, either! I’ve been out in some rough stuff on the lake; times when others have run for home and we’ve stayed out and made the catch later, when the water’s settled. Fish are like that, always up to the surface after a big blow. Them that stick it out will have a good catch, you mark my words.
Huh! Hark at me; “Them that stick it out” he says, and then denies the Man.
I suppose I hadn’t got over all that fuss in the Garden; all that with the sword and that toe-rag Judas! I suppose that I might have been hoping to drag Jesus away, to do the “Big brave Peter bit” again…….
“Rocky”, he called me. Funny that; never thought of myself as a rock. If you knew me deep down you’d know that all this “son of the Sea” stuff is just bluster. Truth is, I’ve seen rough stuff OK, but I’ve been petrified. Turned to stone! Now, if he’d meant that, I could understand it, but he didn’t, he meant “solid as a rock”, and it sort of stuck.
Until now; rock turned to sand now! And it isn’t as if he hadn’t seen it coming, either. I could strangle that cockerel…….
No, no, not the cockerel’s fault; it’s all my fault. And now it’s all too late.
It’s all fallen apart, and I could have made a difference, at the very least I could have gone with him, stood by him, shared the end with him.
Father, forgive me; I didn’t know what I was doing.
Silence
Amazing Grace…….
Reader:
Then they took Jesus from Caiaphas to Pilate's headquarters. It was early in the morning. They themselves did not enter the headquarters, so as to avoid ritual defilement and to be able to eat the Passover. So Pilate went out to them and said, ‘What accusation do you bring against this man?’ They answered, ‘If this man were not a criminal, we would not have handed him over to you.’
Pilate said to them, ‘Take him yourselves and judge him according to your law.‘ The Jews replied, ‘We are not permitted to put anyone to death.’ (This was to fulfil what Jesus had said when he indicated the kind of death he was to die.)
Then Pilate entered the headquarters again, summoned Jesus, and asked him, ‘Are you the King of the Jews?’ Jesus answered, ‘Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?’ Pilate replied, ‘I am not a Jew, am I? Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me. What have you done?’
Jesus answered, ‘My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here.’
Pilate asked him, ‘So you are a king?' Jesus answered, ‘You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.’
Pilate asked him, ‘What is truth?' After he had said this, he went out to the Jewish leaders again and told them, ‘I find no case against him. But you have a custom that I release someone for you at the Passover. Do you want me to release for you the King of the Jews?’
They shouted in reply, ‘Not this man, but Barabbas!' Now Barabbas was a bandit.
Then Pilate took Jesus and had him flogged. And the soldiers wove a crown of thorns and put it on his head, and they dressed him in a purple robe.
Herdsman
I haven’t always worked for the Romans. I sort of drifted in to the job. Most of the time I don’t mind what I have to do. I mean, criminals is criminals. If you don’t want to get on the wrong side of the authorities, don’t break the law! Easy, really.
No, I grew up in the country. I always was a big lad, big for my age. By the time of my bar mitzvah even my parents were calling me “Ox”.
People thought it suited me.
If I’m truthful, I wish I’d been a bit less, well you know, “different”. It used to embarrass me with the girls, too. I mean, if you’re taller than their dad when you’re 13, you don’t exactly fit in, do you!
So I used to spend a lot of time out with the herd. And I got to know about the desert, too. I could travel from one side of Sinai to another without seeing anyone, but without getting hungry or thirsty either. Living on my wits, like.
I saw Him out there once. Oh, about three years ago it must have been. About the time when John they called the Baptist was out there. A bad end that John came to. That Salome, she’s something else. I mean I’ve seen some pretty bad stuff in this job, but her. Well, I reckon she gets it from her mother……..
But back to me. One of the Roman patrols saw me out with the herd one day; apparently I needed a permission or something - which of course I didn’t have. So they pulled me in and then it wasn’t long before I was doing this job. Made a change from the desert or them girls, laughing. And for once, being a big lad didn’t make me a joke; in fact, it was something to be a bit proud of. I mean, it’s useful having someone with a bit of muscle around the place. Most of the time the tea-leaves get one look at me and come quietly. And if one of them fanatics starts to kick up a fuss, well, it’s not for long.
It’s funny how you slide into things. I’m not a bad man but we do have to cut up a bit rough some times, and those Romans, they’re hard men. “Get a confession,” means just that, unless you want to change places with the prisoner, that is.
When they put the purple on him, I dunno, seeing him looking sort of royal, and remembering him out in the desert that time…..All that sadness and homesickness, and crossness at being different and relief at someone else being the butt of the joke for once. I just sort of went along with it.
But I was sorry about the thorns. Back home I’d always kind of liked the thorns; they were really useful to keep the wolves out from the fold, and I always liked the way they would push out flowers at the first rains of spring. I kept a bunch as a sort of memory of other places. Daft I know but I’ve seen dafter!
Well, one of the soldiers just grabbed my thorns and twisted them up and pushed them on his head. Oh! When I saw what they’d done it was horrible; my thorns, His bloody face; all those memories; all that hurting.
(We are not sure who's pain is spoken of here. It is undoubtedly Christ's, but it is the herdsman's also. It is pain at the mis-use of his souvenir, pain for his tormented past, pain at his isolation in the midst of the brutish soldiers, pain for his part in Christ's torment.)
I’ve had a lot of beers from the troops because of those thorns.
But I wake nights and I can see his eyes; gentle and looking right in to the very center of me; and somehow, he knew……
Father, forgive me; I didn’t know what I was doing.
Silence
Amazing Grace…….
Reader:
They kept coming up to him, saying, ‘Hail, King of the Jews!' and striking him on the face. Pilate went out again and said to them, ‘Look, I am bringing him out to you to let you know that I find no case against him.’ So Jesus came out, wearing the crown of thorns and the purple robe. Pilate said to them, ‘Here is the man!’ When the chief priests and the police saw him, they shouted, ‘Crucify him! Crucify him!' Pilate said to them, ‘Take him yourselves and crucify him; I find no case against him.’
The Jews answered him, ‘We have a law, and according to that law he ought to die because he has claimed to be the Son of God.’
Now when Pilate heard this, he was more afraid than ever. He entered his headquarters again and asked Jesus, ‘Where are you from?’ But Jesus gave him no answer. Pilate therefore said to him, ‘Do you refuse to speak to me? Do you not know that I have power to release you, and power to crucify you?’ Jesus answered him, ‘You would have no power over me unless it had been given you from above; therefore the one who handed me over to you is guilty of a greater sin.’
Seamstress
There are those who think that the Romans have only been a bad thing for Jerusalem; I’m not one of them. What with the official visits and the visitors, it brings a bit of money into the city. And they’re very particular to go along with the temple authorities, not to upset anyone, to make it look as if they’re here to support us, not to boss us around. My friend Rachel says that the soldiers in her village are the very soul of politeness; never without a dried fig for the kids, and bits of sparkle for the girls. And some of these lads, well, they’re a long way from home, too and they’re only young.
They might bring most of their supplies and clothes with them, but they can’t sew; show me a man who can!
And so I’ve been busy with sewing and mending and even run up a couple of local dresses for them to take home to their girls. I’ve even done some work for Pilate’s household, mending and the like. Even had to handle some of their royal purple for them.
Funny that purple; lovely fabric it is, but I always used to wonder what they were up to with it. There was one cloak which I used to have to clean quite often; styled for an emperor it was. It would come in a terrible state, bloody and ripped.
I’m used to getting blood out. If you’re anything to do with the clothing trade in a temple city, you know all about blood on robes and such like. And Festival time, well! The place reeks of blood.
I never asked about that robe, maybe one of those secret society things that soldiers away from home get up to; maybe something to do with their own sacrifices, I didn’t ask. Not my business.
Perhaps I should have done. Perhaps I should have made it my business. Last time I saw that cloak it was on that Galilean.
Oh, they shouldn’t treat anyone like that! I don’t care what he’s done – or not done, or who he was. It’s surely enough to kill him without all that whipping and beating and mockery.
Perhaps I should have said something about that cloak; I just know I should.
Father, forgive me, I didn’t know what I was doing.
Silence
Amazing Grace…….
Reader:
From then on Pilate tried to release him, but the Jews cried out, ‘If you release this man, you are no friend of the emperor. Everyone who claims to be a king sets himself against the emperor.’
When Pilate heard these words, he brought Jesus outside and sat on the judge's bench at a place called The Stone Pavement, or in Hebrew Gabbatha. Now it was the day of Preparation for the Passover; and it was about noon. He said to the Jews, ‘Here is your King!’ They cried out, ‘Away with him! Away with him! Crucify him!' Pilate asked them, ‘Shall I crucify your King?' The chief priests answered, ‘We have no king but the emperor.‘ Then he handed him over to them to be crucified.
So they took Jesus; and carrying the cross by himself, he went out to what is called The Place of the Skull, which in Hebrew is called Golgotha.
The Carpenter
”People will always need carpenters” my dad used to say. And I have to say, he’s been proven right. I’ve never been out of work, always put bread on the table, never had to look for a job. Until recently, that is. People feeling the pinch a bit; taxes up and no big building in the city. When I say “no big building”, I mean no big Jewish building. The Romans are building everywhere; but they bring their own tradesmen, see? I’m not saying that they’re bad builders – far from it; you should see some of the work they’ve commissioned in the city.
I’m a carpenter – not a chippy – and I’ve always relied on a supply of skilled work. Recently I’ve had to take anything I can get. Ended up working for the Romans myself – but not real work; just odds and ends.
Never thought I’d end up being carpenter to a carpenter ‘though. They’d asked me for a job lot of cross beams. Typical Roman spec; listed out the number of knots per running cubit and limited the choice of woods; efficient, see; deadly efficient. Difficult to make a profit on that sort of spec. Still, got to take what you can, when you can.
But I wish I hadn’t bid for that contract, I really do. It turned my stomach when I saw the Galilean carpenter carrying one of my beams to his crucifixion.
I mean, if you’ve worked a beam, any piece for that matter, you can’t miss your own adze marks. It’s like handwriting, I’d know my adze marks anywhere.
And there he was; carrying that beam all through the city. Like I said, that was to Roman spec., good timber, dense, heavy, no knots. It’d take a nail without splitting and carry a man’s weight for hours. Deadly efficient. But there he was, already at the point of dropping when I saw him, trying to carry that beam. Truth is he did drop it and they pulled in that out-of-towner to help.
But I’d had enough already. I’ve seen too many crucifixions. It’s not what my workmanship was for. A beam like that, it could have been a roof-truss, or a door post or split again into panels for a wall; something to give pleasure, not that pain.
I left, I’m afraid. I couldn’t bear what had happened to my work,
to my life for that matter.
Father, forgive me; I didn’t know what I was doing.
Silence
Amazing Grace…….
Reader:
There they crucified him, and with him two others, one on either side, with Jesus between them. Pilate also had an inscription written and put on the cross. It read, ‘Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews.’ Many of the Jews read this inscription, because the place where Jesus was crucified was near the city; and it was written in Hebrew, in Latin, and in Greek. Then the chief priests of the Jews said to Pilate, ‘Do not write, “The King of the Jews,“ but, “This man said, I am King of the Jews.“’ Pilate answered, ‘What I have written I have written.’
The Smith
I’d made those nails, you know! Some folk think nothing of nails; they’re just something you use and that’s all. But there’s time to sing a whole psalm while you make a nail. Time to sing the whole Psalter if you include the time it takes to get the ore and smelt the iron, too.
I’ve always loved that bit, the smelting. Have you ever seen it? You start with this mess of reddish ore and charcoal and a fire, a really hot fire it takes, and then you just wait. It’s a bit uncontrollable; a bit wild. You have to get the temperatures just right or you end up cracking the fire open too early and then you have to start all over again. It’s like magic. I’m not surprised that the Romans have a god of smelting. Vulcan, they call him.
But I’m not a foundryman, I’m a Smith; I usually just take delivery of the finished iron, these days. There’s more profit in it like that. And to be honest, I like the way that you can turn the iron to so much. I mean, where would we be without saws and scythes and even swords? I’m not squeamish about the things I make. Some of them aren’t used for very nice things at all but it’s not my responsibility the use they’re put to, is it?
And who would have thought that it would be three little nails that would upset me like that?
But they did. I know that “justice” doesn’t always get the right man – or woman – but everyone knew that that Jesus was clean. At the very most he was a bit touched. But if we start killing off everyone who fits that description, there’ll be no one left!
So – is it my fault that they used my nails to kill him?
I guess not really, but you’ll never convince me of that.
I shall take the sound of that hammer to my grave.
Father, forgive me; I didn’t know what I was doing.
Silence
Amazing Grace…….
Reader:
When the soldiers had crucified Jesus, they took his clothes and divided them into four parts, one for each soldier. They also took his tunic; now the tunic was seamless, woven in one piece from the top. So they said to one another, ‘Let us not tear it, but cast lots for it to see who will get it‘. This was to fulfil what the scripture says, ‘They divided my clothes among themselves, and for my clothing they cast lots.’ And that is what the soldiers did.
The soldier
Crucifixion ain’t nice. When it’s my time to go I either want to die at home with the wife; in my sleep, or I want to fall fast to a strong enemy’s thrust; belly cut, up and in; a strong stab with no holding back, heart burst and “good night Centurion”; thank you very much.
Not much chance of dying at home in this game ‘though. Do you know what the survival rate of legionaries is in Caesar’s army? No? Well you don’t want to ask. I mean, the pay’s OK; they give you a good training, grub’s OK – and plenty of it. Our Centurion’s a bit of a laugh, too. Not as bad as some. No, I’d say that for a man who can look after himself you can do alright; you do get to see a lot of the world and some of the postings are softer than others.
Take this one for example. Favoured Nation Status this lot have. Some of them are even Roman citizens.
But it’s a messy job, just the same. We end up having to do their dirty work with executions and such like.
Like that last one. Three of them there were. Some religious festival following and they wanted this carpenter out of the way. I mean; the two crooks they did with him were a right pair. I had no problem with them. But the carpenter was a different kettle of fish. I mean, it gets to you when they start praying for you. Someone translated for me. He asked his god to forgive us because we didn’t know what we were doing.
I got really cross with that to start with because I blooming well did know what I was doing. I know I don’t make the decisions, them in charge do that. But then orders is orders; kill this man they say and I kill this man. It’s simple, unpleasant perhaps, but simple. Crucifixion duty might be an easy number for some of the lads but, like I said, I wouldn’t want to go that way and so I try to see it’s done well. So when he said I didn’t know what I was doing, I took exception to that.
But then I thought about it a bit more and I think he really meant it.
There was something about the way he said it; “Father, forgive them; they don’t know what they are doing”.
They don’t know what they are doing.
They don’t know what they are doing?
Father, forgive me; I didn’t know what I was doing.
Silence
Amazing Grace…….
Meanwhile, standing near the cross of Jesus were his mother, and his mother's sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, ‘Woman, here is your son.’ Then he said to the disciple, ‘Here is your mother.‘ And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home.
After this, when Jesus knew that all was now finished, he said (in order to fulfil the scripture), ‘I am thirsty.’ A jar full of sour wine was standing there. So they put a sponge full of the wine on a branch of hyssop and held it to his mouth. When Jesus had received the wine, he said, ‘It is finished.‘ Then he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.
Pours water (the glass is emptied onto the floor in front of the cross.
The water runs across the floor. Silence is kept.)
Reader:
Since it was the day of Preparation, the Jews did not want the bodies left on the cross during the Sabbath, especially because that Sabbath was a day of great solemnity. So they asked Pilate to have the legs of the crucified men broken and the bodies removed. Then the soldiers came and broke the legs of the first and of the other who had been crucified with him. But when they came to Jesus and saw that he was already dead, they did not break his legs. Instead, one of the soldiers pierced his side with a spear, and at once blood and water came out. (He who saw this has testified so that you also may believe. His testimony is true, and he knows that he tells the truth.) These things occurred so that the scripture might be fulfilled, ‘None of his bones shall be broken.’ And again another passage of scripture says, ‘They will look on the one whom they have pierced.’
After these things, Joseph of Arimathea, who was a disciple of Jesus, though a secret one because of his fear of the Jews, asked Pilate to let him take away the body of Jesus. Pilate gave him permission; so he came and removed his body.
Nicodemus, who had at first come to Jesus by night, also came, bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes, weighing about a hundred pounds. They took the body of Jesus and wrapped it with the spices in linen cloths, according to the burial custom of the Jews.
Joseph and Nicodemus.
J. It was the least we could do.
I wasn’t one of the twelve, but I had followed him and I really thought that things were changing this time. Ask Nicodemus, he’s the expert, but I thought that what we saw in Jesus life just fitted; it fitted the prophets and so much else. And it wasn’t only scripture – although that’s really what I meant – it was the way he brought something else, something I can’t easily describe.
N. I know what you mean, and I blame myself so much. You are right, my old friend, to struggle with words, for words cannot sum up this man.
I remember sparring with him one evening. It had started out like that at any rate; one Rabbi with another, debate and discussion; lifeblood!
I’d gone to him to try to test out whether my feelings about him and his mission might be true. We got into an argument about baptism and he ended up just tying me up in knots! Me! If it wasn’t so sad, I could laugh about it but the truth is it is sad and we have lost a good man. And perhaps more than a man. I think that this was a man sent by God.
J. But I could have got him away. I could have taken him on a buying trip; I could have even taken him overseas until the hue and cry was over, even to the edges of the empire.
But I held back, I never got that close; I suppose I was too frightened to make any sort of fuss. I wanted to join but, well, you know how difficult it was to be known as one of his followers.
The last week was the worst. He just gathered the twelve around himself and put his head down and took on all comers. There was no stopping him.
But I could have done more; I should have seen it coming.
So, that’s why I offered my tomb; it is all that I can do now. I should have done something whilst he was alive; now all I can do is something for him in his death. It was MY tomb; and now it’s his. I shall just have to start all over again. It’s not much, but it’s something.
I’m sorry; I should have done more.
Father, forgive me; I didn’t know what he was doing.
N. And I’m still not sure. All my learning, all my study. He was a brilliant young man; a mind like a knife - but quite unlike so many of the youngsters who are just clever at debate and discussion and rhetoric; no, with him it was a real, real passion for the people. When I was younger, I wanted to be like that.
Oh yes, he could be intemperate – remember the time when he overturned the table in the Temple!? But I thought that we had time, time to change that, time to see how much more could be done by a little gentle acquiescence. Time to learn the power of compromise. I should have stepped in more positively with the Council but I thought that Pilate would have nothing of it, Jesus would learn a lesson or two and come back clearer sighted and a bit more knowing in the ways of the world. A lashing is horrible but even that heals. I wanted him to see what could be gained by taking your time.
But I took too much time.
There was no way he was going to compromise. You’re right, my friend; he was set on his path and there was nothing we could do.
But I didn’t realize;
I didn’t realize.
Father, forgive me; I didn’t know what I was doing.
Silence
Amazing Grace…….
Reader:
Now there was a garden in the place where he was crucified, and in the garden there was a new tomb in which no one had ever been laid. And so, because it was the Jewish day of Preparation, and the tomb was nearby, they laid Jesus there.
The congregation leave in silence
©Peter Crawford 2005
