Roughly fastened by iron nails to the rough wood of a cross, a man forced his tormented body to take in yet another breath. His flesh clung to him in ribbons, and the harsh words of the crowds only hours before buzzed duly in his head: "Crucify him! Crucify him!"
The ubiquitous pain and suffering of this man allowed him nothing more than small, weak gasps to enter his failing lungs. This man had nothing to spare, nor was he to be spared anything. He had offered no resistance as he was led to the barren place of his execution. Though he had done no wrong, he was dying to bridge the uncrossable chasm between God and man, the chasm that had ripped the world apart since the beginning of mankind.
The man raised his head and gazed upon the beloved, holy city that had betrayed him. Through bloodied eyelids, he could see the gilded roofs of Jerusalem's temple, reflecting the dull rays of the dimmed sun. He also caught a fleeting glimpse far off, of people lining up along the walls, straining their eyes to see this one man being crucified on a hill. His eyes fell to the edges of the crowd below where a number of his own followers timidly glanced back at him, ready to flee at a moment's notice of danger. Then he looked upon the throng of people before him who bore anger on their faces and ridicules on their lips. A sharp pain pierced his sorrowful soul. These were the same whom he had fed, whom he had healed, whom he had taught. Quietly, the man closed his eyes.
The man's executioners were dumbfounded as to why this one man was so silent, especially while his life was so brutally being drained from him. Every other criminal they had dutifully crucified had spent their hours of torture on their own crosses screaming and cursing. So far, not a pained word crossed this broken man's lips, and they spat and jeered at him all the more for it. His breathing came ragged and torn as he fought for his breath. His weak and bleeding legs were the only means of stopping his suffocation, yet he summoned the strength to speak as his eyes lifted skyward.
To the utter surprise of his expectant executioners, the man exclaimed, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."
Knowing he was innocent of any man's sins, he called out to his Father to forgive the sins of his tormentors with his ever loving heart. As he said this, one of the two justly-condemned criminals who were crucified by his sides managed a sneer through the blinding pain of his own crucifixion. He had screamed at the executioners to take his guilty and dying body from his cross, and now his head turned to the innocent and dying body of the man to the center. "Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us," he spat.
Wheezing with each pained breath, the condemned criminal on the other side justly spoke, "Don't you fear God," he managed, "since you are under the same sentence?" The criminap gasped for air. "We are punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve, but this man has done nothing wrong." The center man saw the criminals eyes move to him, and his throat convulsed as the criminal now addressed him with tears in his glazed eyes. "Remember me when you come into your kingdom."
After a moment, the center man whispered to him, "Truly, I say to you, today you shall be with me in paradise." The one who wanted to be taken down continued to scorn him while the man who wanted to be taken up closed his eyes in peaceful acceptance as all three of them continued to suffer.
Near the foot of his criminals cross, his executioners readied their dice to divide the rare and seamless tunic of which the man's blessed mother had lovingly made. She, too, stood at the foot of his cross among a few other women, weeping and wailing uncontrollably as a young man beside her comforted her sobbing form. The young man gazed up at the bloodied man above him, and the man gazed back with an infinite love that he gave to all. His mind briefly flashed to a brighter day when he had said that all who did the will of his Father were his brother, sister… mother. He looked longingly at her.
"Woman, behold thy son," he choked. As her own heart was pierced in grief, his head leaned to look at the younger man. "Behold thy mother."
And he said this to all who listened.
All that time, the clouds were darkening, and the minutes stretched and lengthened as his agony increased. An unearthly shadow spread across the surrounding land, and the clouded light of the sun was blotted out. His blood was clotted by then, and even the slightest movement ripped his body with agony, and the blood flowed anew. The thorns upon his head had since stuck to his soaked and tangled hair, and their barbs buried deeper into his skull as the time wore on.
His executioners roared in satisfaction as he suddenly cried out, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"
For all those who viciously jeered at him, made mouths at him, wagged their heads at him, he threw himself to his Father for their rescue. Yet his cry was not of despair, for he knew men in despair never called out to the heavenly Father. The greatest mental and physical agony had driven his humanity, together with his divinity, to cry to his loving Father, having acutely felt the empty abandonment of humanity - the same humanity that nailed him into such an unnatural position on a criminal's tree.
Painfully, the man felt the excruciating agony in his pierced feet while his trembling legs struggled to hold up his body and in his hands while the bone of his wrists continued to strain with the tension. He felt his torn and outstretched arms. He felt the shredded flesh and muscle of his back. He felt his wounds exposed to the bitter air. He felt the swelling of blood vessels, the increasing inflammation, and the great loss of blood from his crippled body. Most of all, he felt the heavy yoke of all men's sin upon his quivering shoulders.
The man opened his mouth, but it was dry, and his tongue stuck to his jaw. His followers the day before had objected to leaving the Passover meal unfinished as they walked toward the Garden of Gethsemane. Now the broken man on the cross knew that there was one thing left to do.
"I thirst," he gasped.
One of his executioner's lifted his head and grunted his acknowledgement. The man's dry lips sucked at the sponge that one of the executioners had dipped in the vinegar of their bad wine. They mockingly raised the sponge to his lips on a javelin tied to a stalk of hyssop, the very same plant that had been used to sprinkle the blood of a lamb on the doors of Jews in Egypt hundreds of years ago.
The fourth and final drink of the Passover meal having been drunk, he said softly, "It is accomplished."
The man knew it was his time. He gazed again at the jeering men and the weeping women. He gazed at them, his children. He saw them and in his suffering knew that in a moment, he would gain for them the opportunity to gaze at him back, be with him, stay with him in his glory. His most beloved creations would finally be given the chance to rest in their Creator. He was ready to enter into the House of his Father by means of the most perfect prayer. Unlike the soft whisper of all dying men, he cried out in a loud voice.
"Father, into thy hands I commit my spirit!"
What little was left of the man's remaining strength drained away like water, and he hung his head.
The ground trembled, and the sky darkened to black, casting the land into darkness. The winds violently picked up. The two criminals groaned as their crosses swayed. But their cries were drowned out by the loudest: the heart-rending wail of the dead man's mother. Men fell to the ground from the tremors before his lifeless body. In Jerusalem, men witnessed the forms of many fallen saints rise and walk again. Lambs bleated as they were slain on the temple altars, their blood to be sacrificed and flesh to be eaten. In the inner sanctuary, the Holiest of Holies, the curtain veil that separated the area of the high priest from the areas of the worshippers ripped and was torn asunder as the earth trembled.
Outside the city, to the north-west hill of the city of Jerusalem, hung a man's limp body, torn and broken, yet in his divinity, it was offered for the salvation of mankind.
Christus factus obediens usque ad mortem, autem mortem in cruce