It never gets any easier for me. Some people seem to be able to get used to it, grow accustomed to it. They seem… desensitized from it. It’s as if emotional calluses have formed around their hearts and they are no longer able to empathize at all with these poor unfortunate souls.
They can joke about it. They laugh through it.
They don’t seem to see the fear, the anguish… the pain in the man’s eyes. They don’t hear the cries for mercy, the screams that escape mouths. They don’t see the spasming muscles. They don’t notice when their grips slip because they are holding flesh that is torn open and slick with blood.
You’d think that they were friends at a feast, not soldiers at a crucifixion.
Maybe that is their way of coping. Maybe they realize just how brutal it all is, but they have to make light of it to keep from being buried under the weight of such a heavy burden. Maybe they have all been where I am, and they have found that they have to laugh to keep from crying. But try as I might, it never gets any easier for me. I can’t drown out the screams. I can’t ignore blood. I can’t find any humor amidst the horror.
So I do my duty to Caesar and to Rome. I crucify these insurrectionists. And the entire time, I keep my mouth shut and eyes forward, praying to the gods that I won’t have to revisit my last meal until I am alone and safely away from the judgmental eyes of my company.
Today we were put on high alert and we’ve been accompanied everywhere we go by an extra contingent. My commander, Centurion Gaius himself, has come out to oversee the crucifixion of this man, Jesus the Nazarene. I had heard the name whispered by passing Jews throughout the week. Everyone had. This man who would have himself raised as king, who would dare to challenge the Emperor Caesar himself, was getting what he deserved, just like those who came before him.
Why this heightened security, though? Why this enhanced military presence? Was he really so great a threat that this was all necessary?
He’s making his way up path now. He’s so beaten and bloodied that he’s unable to even carry his own crossbeam! I’m glad that I was able to stay in the background for his lashings and beatings. We have some really sick people in our company, some people that enjoy inflicting pain. I can’t stand it! I want to serve my country, I even want to be a Centurion some day, but I’ll never be able to do that to a living, breathing person! I don’t care if they are rebel scum…
I’ve been assigned the duty of nailing his left hand to the cross. There are worse jobs, but this is one of the few that mean I have to be right up next to the criminal. I have to touch him. My wife will have bloodstains to remove. Again. She doesn’t understand why I do this. She wants me transfer. Oh, I wish it were that simple!
I stand there with my fellow brothers in arms, watching him make his way to the place of his execution. Everyone around me begins to shout insults at him and spit at him when he is close enough. I just stand there, with the nails in one hand and the hammer in the other.
The nails are enormous. As long as the hilt of my sword, they start from an extremely sharp point and grow until they are thicker than my thumb. I was issued two nails. Only one is really needed, but there’s always the chance for a mistake. My supervisor joked with me on my first round of nailing duty, “We wouldn’t want you driving it too far in and his hand flopping off! Take extras just in case.” Nice joke, sir. I really needed that mental picture.
The hammer is heavy, and it always seems heavier right before I have to use it. My father was a carpenter. What would he say about this heinous use of a hammer? A tool that is used to create, to bring order and togetherness, used as a tool of torture, a tool of death… Would he be proud of his son, the Roman soldier?
Why is this hammer so heavy?
It’s time. My task is at hand. I hope it doesn’t take too many blows. Someone loops a cord around his wrist to keep his arm taught. I place the nail in position. I strike once, twice, a third time and it is done.
I step back as they raise him up. The vertical beam slides securely into place, and there he hangs, in the middle of two criminals that had gone up not even an hour earlier. How could this man be a threat to anyone? He looks sad. Pitiful.
Everyone around is taunting him. We stand at the cross for hours, and my comrades and the Jewish bystanders spend the entire time mocking him. Even some of their priests have come out for the soul purpose of laughing at this man, who is hanging there dying!
After six hours of it, he lets out a strangled cry: “Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?” I had to grab a nearby Jew boy and ask him what he had said. “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
Forsaken indeed. I hope I never have to feel that despair and abandonment. I hope my death is nothing like that.
And then, as he breathed his last, everyone seems to grow silent for the first time since venturing out to this accursed hill. Maybe everyone else is realizing just how horrible this act is. Maybe they see what I see.
Then my commander, Centurion Gaius, raises his voice and exclaimed “Yeah, sure. This was the son of God!” Everyone breaks out laughing. It’s pretty evident. When they look at the dead man hanging off of the cross, they see a humorous tale to share with friends back home.
That will never be me, though. All I see is this poor man’s limp body, up on the cross where I placed it. I can’t laugh. All I can do is pray that this will some day get easier.
Why is this hammer so heavy?
I think this is the first narrative sermon I've read. Or at least in the way this one was constructed. I'm interested in knowing how you presented it? Did you somewhat story-tell this? I feel like you could have. Also, I had a hard time reading this one. This message is a hard one to read and cope with. However, it is very important and I think you invited people into the setting/moment you were talking about and recognizing on Good Friday. Also this shed a different light on the soldiers for me. I viewed them differently and more humanly for the first time. I appreciate a non-traditional message for this day in the church year.
ReplyDelete