Everyone seemed to hate him. His friend kissed him on the cheek and the soldiers shackled him. How did it come to this, he thought. A few days ago everyone was casting palms at his feet and celebrating his entry into the City. Mom was beaming and Dad was proud. M.M. was smiling at him and he could see in her eyes her approval for his work. The blind man was there as well as Nicodemus and Zachius and Scribes and the Pharisees. They were nodding their approval and joining in the festivities. ‘When you are up…you are up,’ he said to James his brother.

What a struggle he had had with Big S. and his suggestions. They all sounded feasible and a wonderful alternative to what was coming. He recalled how his thumb hurt when he accidentally hit it in Dad’s Shop. The stinging pain had caused him to swear an oath and he wondered if he would do so again today. What a mission he considered. Hope for the hopeless and peace for those in conflict…and death as the reward for his labor. What a deal his Dad had given him!

Pilate had pleaded with his people to let him live…and they chose in a vehement motion of solidarity to let a thief live in his place. ‘Well that is alright he thought…I am no better than any other human.’ Blood streamed down into his eyes. His feet and legs felt like lead. ‘I can not carry it any further,’ he said. ‘I will carry it for him,’ said Simon. ‘My goodness that is a bit better,’ he thought.

‘There is Mom and Mary and I feel ashamed to be displayed in such a manner before them,’ he thought. ‘I am so thirsty…please give me a little water,’ he asked. The sky became dark as night and the veil of the temple was rent in twain…and he died as he said…it is finished…