The trial

"Sir, there are leaders of the Jewish people here to see you," the soldier said. I dropped my head into my hand as the headache was already starting. "What do they want?" I sighed. "They say they have a guilty man that they require your judgement to punish." "Exactly what I need right now," I exclaimed as I stood from my seat. "Send them in." "Sir, the leaders say they cannot enter the palace. Their God would consider them unclean." "There God again. Must this crazy God of theirs bring more trouble to me every day?" 

I stormed outside to see the crowd gathering. Immediately, my eyes went to the man they have accused. Nothing particularly distinguishing about him. His face was stoic, staring right ahead. Certainly not like the shifty, terrified criminal I see daily. But there was something that seemed to draw me. To pull at something I have buried too deep. Nonsense! I have been dealing with these Jews and their ridiculous beliefs too long.

"What charges do you bring against this man?" my voice echoed. “If he were not a criminal, we would not have brought him to you,” an older man with a harsh tone replied. How long must I deal with these people I thought to myself. Their illogical customs and traditions. Already I am on watch for the uprising not long ago when they claim I disrespected one law or another. Who can keep track of all their laws?

"Take him yourselves and punish him according to your own law," I stated as I turned away. I have more to do today than listen to the incoherent ramblings of men with a weak spine and less sense than most slaves.

“But we have no right to execute anyone," the same man said. I turned back around to examine this man who dared address me in such a tone. As I stared into his eyes, a pain shot through my eyes and into my head. I shook my head to try and clear the pain. The headache must be affecting my vision as I began to see shadows coming even in the darkness.  I felt a chill up my back thought it had been sweltering a minute ago.  I escaped back into the palace away from this man and his shadows and called the man who they called Jesus in to me. Although I am certainly no Jew, I have heard rumblings of this man. They claim he can perform miracles. Raise men from the dead and other fairytales. Foolish Jews! The only place a man goes after death is returning into the ground.

"Are you king of the Jews?" I questioned him. He raised his head and looked at me. My breath caught. I almost felt as though I were in a presence of someone or something that carried great importance. No shadows gathered around this man, and I hoped that meant my headache was subsiding. "Is that your own idea or did others talk to you about me?" this Jesus replied.

"Am I a Jew? It was your people who handed you over to me. What is it you have done?" I shouted. 

"My Kingdom is not of this world. If it were my servants would fight to prevent my arrest by the Jews. But now my kingdom is from another place." He spoke with conviction. He spoke with authority. But he spoke nonsense I told myself.

"You are a king then?"

"You are right in saying I am a King. In fact for this reason I was born, and for this I came into the world to testify to the truth. Everyone on the side of truth listens to me."

"What is truth?" Truth! The truth will be whatever I decide it to be. I am the truth. I will decide what side the truth falls on. Although part of me ranted and raved, another part quieted. I despised that part. That is the part that sometimes ponders these celebrations and devotions to this God. That weak part of me that sometimes wanders around the grounds looking for more meaning than a title. I pushed that part of me back and went out to the people.

“I find no basis for a charge against him. But it is your custom for me to release to you one of the prisoners at the time of Passover. Do you want me to release the king of the Jews?"

"No, not him. Give us Barabbas."

Again, that familiar pain radiated through me. This time not only did it strike me in the head, but seared down my back. It felt like my insides were melting within me. I scrambled away from the crowd. I had to get away from them. My soldiers followed me. “What are we to do with him?” With a strangled breath, I ordered them to flog him. “Perhaps that will quench their thirst for this man’s blood.” As I sat sorting through this disaster, a messenger quickly came in. “What now?” I growled. “Do the Jews have another innocent man that would like me to skin alive for them so they can celebrate their festival of the week?” “No, Sir. A message from your wife. Her words sir.” I paused. Never had she interfered in my affairs during the day. “She stated that you are to not have anything to do with that innocent man for she has suffered a great deal today in a dream because of him.”

A dream? How did she know that this Jesus was even here? My wife has had dreams before. She has spent more money than I care to remember on looking for answers to the questions her dreams bring her. I admit at times these dreams have proven to be accurate. A few times I have even benefited from the timely advice.

“Sir, We have done as you have ordered.” “As I have ordered?” I darkly chuckled. “You mean what these senseless Jews have ordered. I have had enough of this charade.”

When I came out to the crowd I saw him. Jesus was wearing the crown of thorns and a purple robe. This is wrong. This is out of control. I have to stop it.

"Crucify! Crucify!" the crowd began to chant. "You take him and crucify him for I find no offense in him," I screamed back into the crowd.

"We have a law and according to that law he must die for he says he is the son of God,” that same blasted man said.

I slowly walked over to this Jesus. I could feel it. The power, the radiance coming from him. Almost like a peace. A peace in all my life, through all of my victories,  I had never found.  "Where do you come from?" I cried.  No answer  "Do you refuse to speak to me? Don't you realize I have the power to free you or crucify you?” My breath felt like fire, the pain was creeping back. I took a step closer to Him trying to ward off the pain and the darkness.

“You would have no power over me if it were not given to you from above. Therefore the one who had handed me over to you is guilty of a greater sin.”

I heard a hissing, a whispering, a rasp in my right ear. “You will sentence him to death or your blood and the blood of all you care about will run like a river through the city. You will never find any rest and you will be tormented the rest of your days.” Like a streak of lightening, my whole body lit up in pain. That’s it. I am finished with this.

I turned to the crowd

“Here is your king! 

 Crucify him.”

For a moment, a roar echoed and all was dark. A screech. A sound straight from the pit of the earth. Flashes of claws of teeth. Nightmares taking form. My hands shook as I slammed them into the basin of water. The water turned blood red. It swirled around my hands and then turned black. I gasped and looked up, but no one else had seen.  

More to myself than to the crowd I shouted, "I am innocent of the blood of this righteous man." But I knew it was too late. The end had begun. We would all pay.

Then someone from the crowd shouted, "His blood be on us, and on our children."

Indeed.