On this Friday morning, my Lord,
let me remember that sad Friday morning so long ago,
when Pilate presented you to the gathered mob,
bloody,
battered,
beaten,
a mockery of a king
crowned with thorns
meant to look small,
crushed,
contained.
Yet no mortal man could contain
the love that looked out over the crowd,
the love that heard the cries of hate,
and still forgave,
the love that waited patiently
as the executioners gathered
and sentence was passed,
the love that chose
this very path
to bring us life.
May I never forget
the gift you gave us
that sad Friday so long ago.
The Crowning
The dirty soldier's cloak,
a proper Roman scarlet
is draped over his bleeding raw back,
the fabric growing darker
wherever it touches
the handiwork
the soldiers left behind
in long red stripes
still bloody.
A game he has become in their hands.
For the soldiers
bored,
violent children of a violent culture,
he is a doll to take their frustrations out
against everything
they hate about this
dusty foreign place
filled with strange people.
They crown him with their
disdain,
hate,
fear,
wrapped amid the thorns.
And as they bow low before each blow,
they ignore the miracle in their midst,
the privilege they have been given,
to be the ones to stand in
for all the mockery,
all the disdain
of God and good
that we heap upon the head of Jesus
until the end of time
How thick the crowd must have seemed,
O Lady of Sorrows,
as you threaded your way
in that numbing timelessness
that comes with crisis,
each second seeming to last minutes,
your son,
your son,
his beautiful face,
swollen,
bleeding, battered,
breaking your heart.
How much you must have wanted to scream
NONONONONO!
Don't let this be today,
now,
at this moment,
ever,
even though you knew he was given to you
for just this purpose,
and the sword you felt
had been fortold long ago.
How hard it must have been
not to throw yourself at the guards,
to some how get them to stop,
to let him rest,
to give him a chance
to change his mind
and make this all a nightmare.
And yet, you merely told God
Your will be done,
and continued on,
giving all you had
until the end
and darkness fell.