Pilate said it. He said Jesus was not guilty. So
why does he now hand him over to his soldiers? The coward, the vile
coward. You thought you hated him before. That was nothing
compared to the hate you have now. First he does too much. Now he does
nothing. There are places in hell for those who always cause evil.
He had his chance. He washes his hands. No, that blood is there forever. It will not wash off. He shares it. 
The
leaders share it. Those people full of hate share it. Who would call for a
crucifixion? Why? What is in the hearts of those who want to see that
happen to anyone.
Your uncle was crucified when you were fourteen. Your parents wouldn't let you watch. Neither your father or mother were ever the same.
It was just last year you saw your first. He was a wicked man, of that there is no doubt. He wasn't fighting for the rights of your people. He was robbing for his own wealth, even if he made some political comments at the end. Some were convinced, but you knew otherwise. They captured him and crucified him on the same day, not bothering to even beat him. The man hung there a full week. By the end he was a bloody mess. The carrion birds smell death and have learned well the shape of the cross.
After seeing that, you knew that nothing deserves such pain. Now, people are calling for it. For what? Because Jesus healed people? Because he told us we should serve God?
You watch them drag Jesus from the side of Pilate. He is going willingly, with some strength still left in him. They will bring him out through the side exit.
You follow the crowd. Every one knows what happens next. People are telling the stories of previous crucifixions, discussing this in a clinical way. Your friend has left your side. You are again alone, though surrounded by people.
So, you wait and watch, along with the throng. Unable to talk to anyone, the emotions and thoughts stir wildly. What is happening here? He was supposed to be the great teacher, the one we were expecting, who would save us. Maybe he still will. Maybe he will break his bonds. You are ready for anything. If only he would say the word.
His acceptance is what breaks your heart. He just stood there! He just stood there, not answering, not defending himself. Why? For you, he said, for all the people. "What I do, I do for you," he said. How does this help you? How does it help anyone?
You didn't know it would mean this. You didn't want it to mean this. Why did it have to mean this?
He walks out, his clothes in surprisingly good shape, his eyes
still strong. There is no shame in him, not like the other prisoners
you've seen. He stares into the eyes of the leaders around him, daring them to
act or say something. They are cowards, using Rome to destroy what
they could not. They all look away, turning to talk to each other.
A guard pushes Jesus, another throws him to the ground. Two pick up
one of the heavy beams and toss it onto his shoulders. He collapses under
the weight. His breath is knocked out of him. The first guard leans over and
grabs his right arm, yanking him up, making sure to stay out of the way of the
swinging beam.
Jesus stands and surveys the crowd. His head turns, his eyes take in those around him. He sees you, you stare back. A tear falls down your cheek. His lips turn upward, a small smile, a comforting smile. It is his pain, and yet he is still comforting you. Not for long. The impatient guards give him a push, forcing him out and on his way.
They don't force him far, only to the battalion headquarters a block away. There the crowd is kept out and Jesus is pushed in. He disappears into the courtyard, throngs of Romans surrounding him. This has become a holiday for them, and they are feasting on his pain. The Jewish leaders, and their followers, join in this Roman celebration, forgetting their own people, forgetting the blood which saved the people from the Angel of Death. This angel was returning, you could hear its wings in the chorus of taunting voices, and the murderous yells which now came from the courtyard.
Consideration
"My Jesus, the heavy burden of my sins is on You, and bears You down beneath the cross. I loathe them, I detest them; I call on You to pardon them; Your grace aid me never more to commit them."
