The execution party: Albus, soldier on duty

When we arrived in Jerusalem, Quintillus, my commanding officer, gave me one piece of advice. ‘You won’t like everything you have to do here but you just have to get on with it. That’s a soldier’s lot. Bite your tongue and think of home.’

Life in the city started with weeks of routine guard duty and very little else. The dance party around the rabbi on a donkey was about as newsworthy as it got. Then there were two sets of crucifixions in a week.

I got through the first by concentrating on my role in the team effort as I usually did. The next one was harder. I listened as I was told what we would be doing that Friday morning and my heart sank – it included the rabbi with the dancing followers.

I thought to myself: how quickly things change.

He took it all

The process was the same as it always was. We were sent for, stripped the prisoner, tied his hands high above his head on the flogging post and proceeded to shred the skin on his back, legs and buttocks.

The flagellum has a large bunch of leather thongs but what makes it cruel are the small pieces of iron and sheep’s bone which not only bruise but also shred the flesh.

If you don’t know who you’re doing this to, it’s not so bad but when you realise it’s the preacher whose main crime seemed to have been annoying the religious authorities, it’s tough. By the time we’d finished, he was in a bad shape, his skin in ribbons and blood everywhere. The message had been to do a particularly thorough job on this one.

After that, he was dressed up as a king: a staff in his hand for the sceptre and a crown of thorns on his head. It dug into his skull and blood streamed down his face and his back. He took it all, said nothing. Then one of the execution team grabbed the staff and beat him mercilessly about the head with it.

Simon steps in

It was clear to me that this prisoner wouldn’t be able to carry the crucifixion cross piece all the way to Skull Hill and I was right. He didn’t get more than a hundred yards or so.

That’s when we grabbed a so-called volunteer – my job, on this occasion.

‘Caesar requires your service,’ I told a passer-by. ‘What’s your name?’

He said he was Simon and came from Cyrene. I got the impression he knew about the man we were crucifying. Anyway, he didn’t make as much fuss about carrying the cross as some of those we commandeered. As it is with executions, there was a crowd and several women weeping. The prisoner told them not to weep for him but for the troubles to come. It was the first thing I’d heard him say.

Clearing out the troublemakers

There were two others being crucified at the same time. I think the bosses must have been clearing out the troublemakers before the Passover began. When we got to Skull Hill, we tied our prisoner to his place and, on this occasion, nailed his hands to the cross-piece. I never quite found out why we sometimes did that. It was I suspect an extra layer of pain when the situation, for some reason, required it.

The notice attached to the cross for this prisoner said: JESUS OF NAZARETH, THE KING OF THE JEWS. The temple authorities made a big fuss to the governor about that but I’m told that Pilate just scowled at them and declared, ‘What I’ve written stays written.’

'Father, forgive them'

The part that really stuck in my mind though was what happened next. As we hung this man on the cross and hauled the post upright, he prayed, ‘Father, forgive them for they do not know what they are doing.’

What kind of terrorist or threat to national security prays like that? We were killing a man who didn’t deserve a fraction of the things we were doing to him. All I could hope in return for his prayer was that he wouldn’t last too long.

We divided out his clothes as we always did on these occasions – one piece each – but my heart wasn’t in it. That left the cloak: it was too nice to cut into pieces. We drew lots for it and I won. Exactly what I hoped wouldn’t happen. So I took it but at the first opportunity I gave it to a beggar who needed warmth against the night.

It was the only moment in the whole day when I felt I’d done something right.

Where to find this story in your Bible?

Matthew 27:26–38
Mark 15:15–26
Luke 23:26–34
John 19:16–24

Finished: Mary Magdalene sees the end of it all

We got there at the beginning and stayed. It sounds like a boast but it isn’t meant to be. Whatever I may have said, I didn’t expect to survive the horrors of seeing his crucifixion. But I did.

Others, perhaps with more sense, came and went – there was nothing we could do. But I’d made my decision before I set out. I’d come to the foot of the cross and nothing would move me. To be honest, it’s safer to be a woman in such a situation. It’s accepted that we’ll wail and it’s assumed we’re no political threat. That’s exactly how unaware men can be.

We wanted to show Jesus we were there for Him

Of course, we shed tears, but we also wanted to show Jesus that we were there for him. We couldn’t do anything but we wouldn’t desert him. Even when the sky grew black, we stayed.

The darkness was eerie: as if night had decided to replace day altogether. It must have lasted several hours or at least it seemed like that.

In the last throes of that darkness, Jesus cried out, ‘Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?’ It means, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’

I thought to myself, he’s lost to us, he’s gone to another place and he will never return. In all the bleak hopelessness, that was the hardest moment of all. Someone imagined he was crying out to a prophet and another one suggested it was Elijah. To me, it was just the sound of desolation.

Then he told us how thirsty he was and one of the bystanders ran to get a long stick with a sponge on it filled with wine vinegar in order that he could have something to drink in his suffering. To my horror, there were several who wanted him to hang there without any respite at all.

‘No,’ they yelled. ‘Leave him to it and let’s see if Elijah actually appears to save him.’ They were ignored and his lips were quenched at least a little. That tiny drink was his very last action. He committed his spirit back to his Father and said one final word.

‘Finished.’

It could have been a cry of exhaustion, but it sounded more like the cry of a man who had crossed a finishing line. The thought didn’t totally convince me. I wondered if I was simply imagining what I wanted to imagine.

Then there was a rumbling as if the earth itself was groaning. Rocks were dislodged and I’m told the curtain in the holiest part of the temple was torn right through. Earthquakes are not that unusual in Jerusalem but this one felt different. Even the Roman guards were shaken.

I heard one say to another, ‘Surely, this was God’s son.’

After the rumbling had subsided, most people left the scene but we stayed, watching from afar: the women who had been his team from the early days in Galilee and who still followed in spite of everything.

We would have been kinder to ourselves if we had left then. A messenger arrived from the barracks. He talked briefly to the centurion in charge who nodded.

They’re going to break the prisoner’s legs so they suffocate, I thought. And then the festival can continue without the inconvenient backdrop of an ongoing crucifixion. I was right. They broke the legs of the man on the right. I thought Jesus would be next but they moved past him and dealt with the one on the left. It was swift and brutal.

Only then did they turn to Jesus. I wondered if they were slightly afraid of the man called the king. There was a brief discussion as if they were checking that Jesus had in fact died.

I thought to myself: at least they’re not going to break his legs. And they didn’t. I relaxed. But, as they turned to go, one of the soldiers thrust a spear into his side causing blood and water to pour out.

When Jesus had said ‘Finished’, I had been able to accept what had happened. Up to that point, I had found enough strength through being with him. Now, my final memory of the day would be that casual spear shoved thoughtlessly into his side just to check the obvious.

Sometimes cruelty and sorrow seem to have no end at all.

Where to find this story in your Bible?

Matthew 27:46–56
Mark 15:34–41
Luke 23:45–49
John 19:28–37

Easter Inside Out is available here

David Kitchen is an award-winning writer, broadcaster, teacher and storyteller who has been making the Bible come alive for longer than he cares to remember. In Bible in Ten he combines his down-to-earth writing skills with almost 50 years’ experience in church leadership and worship. His hobbies include music, poetry and playing crawling-up-stairs games with his grandson.