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. 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.’...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.
I am standing here but it does not seem real. I want to hold him, to comfort him, to cradle him in my arms like I did when he was a baby. But the guards are holding us back. Oh, please, I don't think I can stand anymore. But I must stand. He has to know that I am here with him. He has to know how much I love him, how much I hurt for him, how I would trade places with him if I could.
All of the memories are flooding into my head. I remember that night when the angel came to me. I did not understand. I was so afraid. But I knew I had to say yes. I had no idea what I was agreeing to do. And then for nine months I carried the baby in my womb. It was joyous. In one respect, it was just like any other pregnancy, like the others I had after that. And yet, it was different. I always felt like there was someone there with me, guiding me, loving me, helping me through it. It's hard to explain. The birth itself was hard, downright scary in fact. We traveled to Bethlehem. It was so far, so painful. And then when we finally arrived, it was so crowded. The streets were wild. I remember that nice man who let us bed down in the room that housed his animals. I remember the first time I looked into his eyes--those dark, compassionate eyes. Even as a baby, he had compassionate, loving eyes. He was special. I knew that he was special when he came into the world. I just didn't know how wonderful he would be. I remember the day that my cousin's son baptized him. He didn't know I was there. I hid behind the trees. After all, he was an adult; he didn't need his mother always looking on. And I remember when his ministry started. He was so brave, so fearless. It scared me at times. I thought something like this might happen. But I am so incredibly proud of him. I am so proud of what he became, what he made others become that he touched in his life. He was special.
No, this does not seem real. Somebody needs to help him. Please, please, he's asking for water. Please, someone give him water. I'm afraid this is it. I'm afraid he cannot take it anymore. I'm afraid he's going to give up. Perhaps it would be better. Perhaps it is better to let go...Oh, how I love him! How I want to go back, to hold him just once more! It is over. It is all over. He is gone. What was this for? I don't understand. Why the angel? Why the star? Why did it all happen if it was going to end this way? What does God have in mind for him? He promised me that it would be for good. He promised me that it would be OK. I guess I have to believe that, hold on to it, hope. Someday maybe I'll see it.
I wanted to stay here until they gave me his body, but I don't think I can. There are others here too--Jesus' friend Mary, who has always been so lovely toward me, and the disciples. I hope they all realized how much he loved them, how he would do anything for them. The rain is really coming down now and the skies are angry, angry like me. The wind is blowing so hard, I can no longer stand against it. There are rocks and debris sliding down the mountain above us. It seems that the world is breaking apart. Will the world ever know what it has lost? Will the world ever know what it did? Will God ever forgive this world for killing my son, their son? Someone just told me that the temple curtain has split in two. It is as if the holy has spilled into the world. I can't explain it.
“My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant. Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed; for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name. His mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty. He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, according to the promise he made to our ancestors, to Abraham and to his descendants forever.” (Luke 1:46-55)
Shalom, my dear Son! May God's Light stay with you!
Friday dawns like all other days
And then it turns to black
My Lord is there hanging till death finally comes
There is no going back.
And then my Lord dies a horrid death
While I just stand and stare,
All hope is lost, all life is gone,
There’s no use staying there.
And then the afternoon turns black as night
And angry skies yell out
It is as if all of Creation cries
In pain and grief and doubt.
We lay our Lord in a tomb of death
His body limp and gray
There is nothing left to do
But turn and walk away.
On this day when we remember the Crucifixion, let us grieve for awhile and then keep vigil with the expectant hope of whatever it is God will do next!
Grace and Peace,
Shelli
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