Jesus is Helped by Simon to Carry His Cross

The city is alive

shouting and music, smoked meat smells fill the air

disappointed that I missed the first night’s festivities, I feel the rush of the festival

How will God meet me this year for the Passover?

Excited, nostalgic, clean and prepared

people everywhere with my anticipation and hope

The guards are strong

loud and aggressive, their Greek sounds just a little different than in Libya

Trying to avoid conflict, I follow their orders and walk into the crowd

Who will finally stand up to these Romans?

Confused, unanchored, scared, interrupted

the prefect’s court on the other side of the gate has seen a storm come and go

The cross is brutal

a big slab, rough and rigid

I touch and test the tree of death, before I drag it like Isaac to his altar

How will I make it all the way to the hill of the Skull?

Used, unknown, dreading the long walk with this load

Step after step after step with my eyes to Skull where my job will be done

Those people are angry

vitriol, spitting, disrespectful words from respectable men

I notice people I’ve learned from before, foaming with hatred

What could he have possibly taken from them?

Embarrassed, exposed, vulnerable, dirty

the air is tense and abrasive with hate

This Jesus

bleeding and broken, stumbling and yet determined

his eyes are kind and his posture is open

Who is this man?

Alone, exhausted, powerful, in love

peace in the chaos of judgment

Those people are sad

tears and moans, overwhelming reverence

they only watch, helpless to protect their friend… their leader?

What could he possibly have given them?

Disappointed, disoriented, discouraged, alive

the air is heavy and almost humid with love

His look is gentle

intimate and caring, a loyal friend in a time of need

I regret my rush, I drop the tree and he looks at me

How does he know me?

Seen, known, understood, forgiven

he turns to his altar, ready to drink of its evil

The guards are powerless

insecure mocking to kill the silence

almost prodding them to do their job, he submits to the cross

Will he put this to an end?

Shocked, disgusted, intrigued, transfixed

the crowd’s hate is unquenched and its love is tortured

The Messiah is dead

beautiful and pure, but impossible to watch

I hear him breathe his last, like a lion after protecting its pride

How do I follow a dead man?

Disappointed, disoriented, discouraged, alive

God provided the ram from the thicket for me

But, what now?