I am His judge.
I see just a man before me, a man and not a god,
But the flurry of squawking rabbis surrounds Him,
Their robes flapping about like angry wings
They insist, their many voices as one
That before me stands an enemy of the Jews
A blasphemer
A breather of lies
A stirrer of pots
An inciter of riots
A danger to the very soul of Rome.
So I look again at this man brought low
And imagine I see what they see
Still, I am not moved to rage
But pity
What fool would remain silent
In His own defense
When given the chance
To speak
And quiet the cackling of fat angry geese?
I am His guard.
I see before me a part of the problem,
The mess, the plague of these Jews in my Rome.
Look at this, a god who bleeds
That’s what they say he says
But I’ve never seen a god that bleeds
His blood will feed my family for another week anyway –
I’ll get my three denarii tomorrow, but He’ll be dead before then.
Someone said he was going to destroy the Jewish temple
With His own two hands
The two hands they’re stretching out right now?
He won’t be doing anything with those.
Those women wailing – are they his students, his sisters, his lovers?
My own wife would not mourn that way for me.
But she is good, in her work she is good,
As I am good in mine.
I am His mother.
You ask how I can look upon this,
My beloved boy in such pain
I say how can I not
I gave Him life
And then He gave me life
And so they are taking two lives on this day.
Please stop –
He never did anything to deserve this
Please stop –
Just give Him a moment to breathe
Please stop –
Let me kiss Him one last time
Please stop –
Please stop this, my son –
I know you can stop this, my son –
Is Your destiny so like a tender child to you –
Your calling too precious to neglect
That You give all You have for it
And take all my heart with You, too?
I am His disciple.
I followed Him and drank up His words
As though they were life to me
I watched when He fed thousands with a basket full of bread.
I saw a dead girl breathe again
Battered women did not fear Him
And broken men trusted Him
I trusted Him
I trusted Him
I believed He had something better for me
Than a hundred fish in a net
Worth more than pearls or silver
But the sunlight grows dark now, and He is still up there.
How can any dream live when strangled like that?
How can any hope hold on when crushed like that?
How can love survive a death like that?