The soldiers are tense. You keep your distance. Jesus is hard to see within their circle. Simon continues to walk ahead, his steps strong again, for a good reason.
There is the gate ahead of you. He sees it and knows his part is soon over. You are anxious for this to end as well. At the same time you know what happens on the other side. You look around, wondering if you could create a diversion. If there are people around to help you at all, they are few. Only Jesus, and he is unwilling, and now seemingly unable to respond as you would like. You feel alone.
There is a crowd by the gate, a large crowd, likely those who knew Jesus would be coming this way, along with those who are just coming or leaving the city. Other soldiers stand there, cordoning off a path for the procession.
Jesus
stumbles along, falls against the wall as it turns. A soldier pushes him
forward, though not as hard as before. They are watchful now, very
watchful, for possible attacks and the too early death of their prisoner.
Should you all decide that Jesus is worth saving there really is little Rome could do. Their garrison is not that big, little more than a cohort with some auxiliary units. It is only the threat of more soldiers which keeps things under control, that and the fact no one in the city really can agree on anything. The Romans took advantage of your confusion and disagreements, and still do, playing all the Jewish people against each other. Now, before your eyes, they are killing a Jewish prophet, and while only a few people really want this, every one else feels weak. You feel weak, helpless, and you hate yourself for it, and you hate the people around you for it, and yes, you even feel a little hate for Jesus because of his weakness.
Why didn't he fight? It's too late now, he's too far gone, but he had his chance, his chance to save more people, to heal others, to continue to tell us words of God. It has been so long since you heard what God wants of you, you and all the people have been in lost in the silence, with only the old writings to tell you what is going on. That's not enough, You felt alive in his words, and now he lets himself be killed, What kind of strategy is this? He can't even save himself.
Just like all the prophets, you realize.
The street opens up ahead of you, animals and people are crowded along the lane, going towards the Temple, or coming back. A breeze coming along the street brings anew the smells of the week, the heavy, inescapable odor of blood and all the other scents that come with animals. Jerusalem smells like a barn. You can't wait to get out and away once this all is over.
You can see the image of the Temple in your head, even though you had yet to offer your own sacrifices. The priests standing in the inner court, an efficient killing team. Some would slaughter the animals, others would take the blood for anointing. Levites would skin the animals, others would butcher, and more would be responsible for the boiling. At the end of the process there would be men carefully apportioning the pieces, with the people showing what they offered, and getting back their share for the feast. A friend told you a million people would be coming through town this week. A million! All of them needing to share in the feast. How many lambs is that? You have no idea, The smell and noise tells you it is more than you could count.
And yet, there was only one sacrifice you could see now. This one didn't make sense. He was a lamb on his way to the slaughter, quiet and being led along without a fight to his death. Unlike the lambs, he knew what was going to happen in Jerusalem. He knows what to expect.
You near the gates, the officer walks forward to make sure all is well. A company of soldiers were ambushed here a few months ago. Zealots tried to defend one of their own. Of course they were all killed, but not before taking some Romans with them.
A crowd is gathered around the gate, obviously waiting for Jesus. These, however. are not yelling or throwing anything, They are weeping and crying, children are being held in the arms of anguished women. Soldiers are alert, keeping this crowd close together. The officer orders a stop. Simon stands, his eyes down, his strong shoulders weakening and shaking.
Jesus slumps in the middle of the road, his robes hanging off of him, his
flesh seeming to do the same. Some people near try to reach out, to touch
him, he doesn't respond to their hands, likely his pain is too much to notice
anything else. A group of women break out of the cordon, and run with
their young children, falling at his feet, washing his wounds with their own
clothes, asking him for a blessing, for a word.
"Save us!" a woman cries, "Save us, save yourself. We need you Jesus, we need you!"
You watching this from fifteen feet away, stuck behind more soldiers, who do not seem to care what the women are doing.
The attention of the women seems to draw Jesus out of his half conscious state. You see his strength return, even if a little bit. He turns his head, realizes what is going on, surveys the crowd. For a moment you see his eyes, the same power and authority shine out. You see in that instant that while he is going along quietly, and is dying in front of you even now, he is not weak. It is not out of weakness he is walking this path.
He looks down, puts his bloody hand on the head of a little girl, who couldn't be more than five years old, a girl who is shrieking and holding onto his leg. You see his lips move, a few spoken words in a whisper, a smile. He reaches out and touches the head of other women, giving them blessings, easing their pain. Still he comforts. Then a change comes over him, a realization. He removes his hand, takes a deep breath, you see his chest and shoulders rise with the breath. He speaks in a bold voice you haven't heard since the trial began.
"Daughters of Jerusalem," he says, "Don't weep for me, but weep for yourselves and for your children."
The women look at him, the crowd is silent. That was the voice of a prophecy, not just the words of a dying man. You all know it. What are you doing here? What are you all doing to Jesus, this man of God? What are you all doing to yourselves? It's not supposed to be like this! It's not supposed to be this way!
Jesus turns and looks around again, the fire in his eyes dissipates. His shoulders slump, his head falls. For a moment you saw the king, and saw the power which could order a revolution, the whole crowd would have reacted. The moment passed, again you feel deflated, confused, lost.
"Let's go," the officer yells. "All is clear."
You follow Simon, and Jesus, and the soldiers out the gate, where for the first time you see Golgotha, the place of death.
Consideration"My Jesus, Who did comfort the pious women of Jerusalem who wept to see You bruised and torn, comfort my soul with Your tender pity, for in Your pity lies my trust. May my heart ever answer Yours.”
