We decide to go straight to Golgotha to ensure we’re not spotted by my past-self. We avoid the precession for Jesus and the celebration for the gloating Barabbas that I encountered last time, but we can hear the crowd following Jesus, as they insult Him and cheer at His suffering. I thought we’d be the first to reach Golgotha, but we’re not. A dozen people that I don’t recognize are already there, presumably drawn by morbid curiosity.
As the crowd approaches, I spot my past-self following Christ, step by painful step.
“It’s like you were trying to use your body to shield Him from the mocking and insults,” Martha says.
“I don’t remember doing that.”
Martha reaches down and takes my hand into hers.
“You didn’t ruin our engagement,” she says.
Once Christ gets closer, I feel Martha’s grip on my hand tighten. I want to remain strong to help Martha through what she’s about to witness, but it may turn out to be her who helps me.
Christ is thrown back onto the rough wooden beam, and soldiers hold His arms as the one who is to drive the nails steps forward. Christ looks at the soldiers with His kind eyes.
“He’s forgiving them,” Martha says. “I just know He’s forgiving them.”
When the soldier with the hammer strikes his first blow, my past-self lets out a loud cry, like he’s the one being nailed to the cross instead of Christ.
Why shouldn’t a Christian cry out? Isn’t that the point? Isn’t it our sins being nailed to the cross?
Martha also lets out a loud whimper and buries her head in my chest. I try to console her by whispering Bible passages to her.
As the soldier drives the nail through Christ’s other wrist, I become aware of the crying out of the two thieves, as they’re nailed to their crosses. The last time I was here, I was so focused on Jesus that I paid little attention to them.
After the soldiers nail a sign above Jesus and move off to throw dice to see who gets His robe, I watch as my past-self moves to the back of the crowd. I take Martha by the hand and lead her to the front. She thinks we’re going to see Jesus, but we’re actually going to see the man being crucified to His left. It’s the leader of the men who tried to rob and rape Martha.
Not long ago, I wanted this man dead. I had such anger and hatred for him that I wanted to cut out his eyeballs. Now I’m not sure what to feel about him, though I certainly pity him his fate.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“Got what you wanted, didn’t you?”
“This isn’t what I wanted. Killing your friend isn’t what I wanted either. We just wanted to leave in peace.”
He heaves heavily upwards and gasps for breath. He’ll be doing this for hours.
“We came to say we forgive you.”
The next sound he makes appears to be an attempt at laughter, but comes out as more a cough.
“I suppose our forgiveness seems like nothing right now, but soon you’ll be dead and I hope it’ll be worth something when you stand before God.”
“Here’s what I think of your forgiveness,” he replies.
He tries to spit at me, but his mouth is too dry to manage it. A drop or two drool out of the corner of his mouth and down his chin.
Three times I open my mouth to reply, but can find no words. I look him straight in the eyes and search for even a flicker of repentance and find - nothing.
“Save your forgiveness for yourself, murderer!” he says.
A few heads turn from watching Jesus to seeing what this new commotion is about.
“You’re next! Your cross is coming, murderer!”
He continues to yell at my back as I lead Martha into the crowd. Luckily, the crowd has heard all manner of things said by those hanging on a cross, so their focus returns to Jesus.
“What was he telling you?” Martha asks when we reach the far edge of the crowd.
“The truth.”
****
Except for the rasping of His breath, Jesus has been silent for an hour, so when He speaks, everyone goes quiet. They probably expect Him to beg for mercy as they’ve heard over and over in past crucifixions. Instead of begging for Himself, He begs for the world to receive mercy when He shouts: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”
There they are. Some of the best known words Jesus ever spoke.
Martha and I watch as my past-self walks from the far edge of the crowd and speaks to Jesus. It’s now my turn to squeeze Martha’s hand. Watching this is going to be painful
“What were you doing?” Martha asks.
“Jesus said: ‘Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do.’ It occurred to me that everyone else here has that excuse, except me. As a time traveler and a believer, I know what’s happening here. Even worse, I thought about all the times in my life that I knew something was wrong with the world, and yet did nothing to stop it. I went to Him to ask if I could be forgiven too.”
And in a moment, He’ll nod His head and forgive me. But did I deserve His forgiveness? What did my former-self learn? I went back to my time and continued to feel uncontrolled lust for Martha in my heart. I continued to feel hatred, to the point of killing a man with a knife. How broken of a person am I that Christ can personally forgive me, and yet I learned nothing?
We see Jesus nod and my past-self melts back into the crowd. I think my knees might collapse beneath me at the thought of how I’ve let Him down since that simple nod of forgiveness. When I look at Him again, I realize Christ is now staring at the ‘present’ me. I return His stare and He nods His head again. I feel tears running down my cheeks.
That’s what my past-self didn’t learn. His forgiveness isn’t limited to our past sins. He knows we’re broken and will sin again, but He forgives us for those sins too, if we repent.
“You have looks of joy on your face - both then and now,” Martha says.
“What you just witnessed was the moment I finally understood something. On Sunday morning, we’ll all take great joy in His resurrection. It’s His triumph over even death. What you just saw me figure out is that I need to take equal joy in His death, as I do in His life. Would you like to know what both the past and present me are thinking about right now? We’re thinking about the two white roses you gave me; one that says ‘life’ and the other, ‘death.’ We’re thinking about the choice they represent and the choice Christ is making right now on that cross. And we’re both overjoyed He’s choosing to die for us.”
****
The crucifixion wears on for many hours. Like last time, I’m amazed to see how long the crowd is willing to stand here and watch men die. After the first hour, even the Pharisees get tired of mocking Jesus, but like the rest of the crowd, they’re hanging on, waiting to see if something will happen. In fact, it appears they’re hoping something will happen. I think they’d like nothing better than to see an army of angels descend and lift Christ from His cross, and watch Him start killing Roman soldiers with a golden sword, as their new king.
Such are the shortsighted hopes of humans. They don’t understand the real purpose of Christ. They want God to send another human hero or king, like David. They forget that those heroes and kings of the past all eventually died, and their children squandered the gift God gave to them. They stand here watching, hoping to find a man to lift them out of the temporary oppression of the Romans. They can’t see that Christ wants to lift them to everlasting life in heaven.
Like last time, the sun goes dark even though it’s directly overhead and there are no clouds in the sky. I can feel the excitement in the crowd as we stand in the eerie, undefined twilight that allows us to see each other and the three crosses, but not much more. Everyone is anticipating that something will happen soon, but we end up standing and sitting in silence for hours, listening to the sounds of the three men moving up and down on their crosses and gasping for air.
When the silence is interrupted by the clear voice of Jesus saying: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” the crowd jumps back to life. Moments later, Jesus says: “I am thirsty.”
The crowd murmurs some more and a boy tries to give Him sour wine soaked into a sponge by putting it onto the end of a hyssop branch.
Someone in the crowd says: “Leave Him alone. Let’s see whether Elijah will come and save Him.”
They’re still hoping something miraculous will happen.
We wait another minute, listening to the breathing, when we hear Jesus say: “It is finished,” and with a long, low breath, His body relaxes, and it’s apparent He’s gone from us.
As the last of His breath expires, we start to hear - and then feel - a low rumble in the ground that increases to become a great shaking. I envision the shroud in the Great Temple being torn from top to bottom.
Welcome to the new covenant.