The Tomb of Jesus

 

Chapter VII: The Tomb of Jesus

Matt. xvii. 51-66; Mark xv. 38-47; Luke xxxiii. 45, 47-56; John xix. 31-42.

Immediately the veil of the Temple was rent "from the top clean to the bottom and torn in twain; the earth quaked, rocks were cloven asunder, graves opened, and many bodies of the Saints who had slept rose from their tombs."

The Centurion glorifies God. J-J Tissot.

The Roman Centurion was the first to bow down before the evidence of these prodigies.  With his soldiers he had remained on Calvary, standing "over against Jesus;" but when he felt the earth trembling beneath his feet, and beheld the Christ "in death, sending forth that great cry," "fear fell upon him, his eyes were opened, and he gave glory to God."

"Ay, truly this was a just man," he cried, "this was indeed the Son of God."

And forthwith his faith affected the frightened legionaries, and the cry arose:—

"Truly, this was the Son of God!"

That confession from the lips of heathen men, in presence of the expiring Christ, sealed the condemnation of the Jews.  And they, seeing what had come to pass, withdrew from thence, striking their breasts.  Soon upon Golgotha two little groups of men and women were left clustered together, though separated according to sexes, as is the Eastern custom.  On one side were the disciples of Jesus, all those who had known Him so well, finally united together in a common love they bore their Saviour; somewhat further away stood the women, who had followed Him from Galilee, with many others who had accompanied Him hither from Jerusalem.  In silence all were watching Him Whom they had loved so dearly.  Among them we once more meet the Magdalene and Mary mother of James, whom we had left at the foot of the Cross, and with them Salome, the mother of Zebedee's sons.  The gaze of every one there was fixed upon the body of the Master, for they clung to the hope, seeing the marvels whereat even the Jews were confounded, that all was not ended even yet.

Jesus had succumbed about the ninth hour, but the two companions of His sufferings, if nothing shortenedd their torments, had still several hours of agony before them.  Now the law prescribes that no condemned person should be left upon the gibbet longer than one day, and for the day before the Passover this commandment was more imperative than ever, since it was not fitting that that Holy Day should be desecrated by the spectacle of such crucified bodies.  The Jews therefore went in search of Pilate, and requested him to have the legs of the condemned men broken, so that they might be removed the sooner.

A soldier pierces Jesus' side. J-J Tissot.

The Governor dispatched another band of soldiers to Calvary. Taking heavy clubs they broke the legs and thighs of the two thieves; but coming to Jesus, they found only a dead body.  To break His limbs would be an unnecessary labour; so one of the soldiers, in order to make certain that the corpse was altogether lifeless, buried his lance in the right side.

Saint John, who was at the fort of the Cross, saw a stream of water and a blood flow forth from His breast.

"He that saw it," he says, speaking of himself, "gave testimony thereto, and his testimony is true, and he knows that he says true, that you also may believe, for these things were done that the Scripture might be fulfilled:'You shall not to break a bone of Him;' and furthermore, the Scriptures saith again:'They shall look upon Him Whom they pierced.'"8

To Saint John's eyes, this last act of the Passion was therefore at once the fulfilment of a Prophecy and a symbol of future grace.  The spear-thrust which prevented a bone of Jesus from being broken made Him of a truth the real Paschal Lamb, the veritable food of the New Israel; while the water and the blood now spilled from His wound foreshadowed on the one His Baptism, with the life-giving ablutions of grace, and on the other, His blood divine in the Blessed Eucharist.

As the evening crept on, a Jew who had not hitherto appeared upon Calvary suddenly presented himself among the soldiers.  His name was Joseph of Arimathea, and he was a member of the tribunal which had condemned Jesus.  Rich, powerful, and of noble mien, he had hitherto lacked courage to declare himself in favour of the Lord, for fear of the Sanhedrin, and consideration of his own rank had held him back.  Nevertheless he was a good and just man, who was awaiting the Kingdom of God, and had made himself one of the Lord's disciples.  Moreover, he had allowed his feelings to be known abroad by firmly refusing any assent to his colleagues' counsels and actions.  The Master's death had finally conquered him; at the season when all were shuddering with fear, a sudden boldness sprang up within him.

Joseph of Arimathea requests the body of Christ. J-J Tissot.

He came to Calvary, and there found the soldiers preparing to take down the corpses, so as to bury them together with the instruments of execution; but he obtained from the Centurion who had just now confessed his belief in the Christ's Divinity that he would accord him such delays as he deemed necessary.  Joseph then boldly presented himself before Pilate and besought the body.

The Governor’s first thought on learning of the decease of Jesus was one of astonishment; so sudden an end to this torture was a thing unheard of.  Having had the Centurion brought before him, he enquired of him whether Jesus was really dead already.  Upon hearing his account he no longer hesitated to put faith in Joseph's word, and willingly granted him the Saviour's body, for it was Roman usage never to refuse this consolation to the friends of the condemned.  

The descent from the Cross. J-J Tissot.

The stars whose first beams would announce the beginning of the Sabbath, had not as yet shone out through the twilight, so Joseph had still sufficient time to purchase the linen shroud, with the winding-sheet, in preparation for the burial; accordingly with these he returned to Calvary, where, aided by the disciples, he lifted Jesus down from the Cross.

The season of humiliations was passed now.  His body, nailed to a criminal's gibbet, was to be entombed with becoming decency.  Another prince of Israel now helped to prepare His resting-place.  It was Nicodemus, the famous Scribe who once went by night to hold converse with Jesus.  Trembling before his fellow-councillors of the Sanhedrin, he has until now dissembled his real faith; but the sight of those wonders and Joseph’s example had triumphed over his weakness, and he followed fast upon his footsteps to Calvary, eager to lavish his wealth upon the Master Whose fate he was now bewailing. 

 

The stone of anointing. J-J Tissot.

Perfumes and spices, to the value of a hundred pounds, were brought thither by his orders; it was acompound of myrrh and aloes ground and mixed together.  With this the bleeding wounds were covered, while they proceeded to pass the long linen bands about the body, the arms, and the legs; according to Jewish custom, the winding-sheet enveloped His head,— and thus swathed in costly ointments, Jesus was borne to the tomb.  They must needs hasten, for the Sabbath was almost upon them; they had only these fleeting moments of even-tide, wherein to complete the sepulture of the Lord.

Christ carried to the Sepulchre. J-J Tissot.

They found the sepulchre already prepared; for near the place of the Cross Joseph of Arimathea owned a garden where there was a tomb hollowed out of the rock, which as yet had never been used for any man.  This he now consecrated to the Master's service, since the nearness of the Sabbath made it impossible to carry Him farther.  Such burial caves, chiselled out of the cliff-side, were made in the form of narrow halls, wherein niches or rows of benches were arranged to receive the bodies.  You entered these Tombs on a level with the ground or by a gentle decline, and the mouth was closed with a stone, difficult to stir from its solid base.  Jesus was laid upon one of these funeral couches.  With the help of their companions, these pious Sanhedrin-Councillors hurriedly pushed the heavy door athwart the entrance way; then all returned homeward to the city, over which the calm of the Sabbath night had now fallen, subduing all mankind to silence,— the holy quiet of their night of the Great Sabbath.

The two Marys watch the tomb. J-J Tissot.

Meanwhile the saintly women had followed Joseph throughout; they had noticed with what haste the two noble Councillors had fulfilled their office, with all else that was still wanting to make the burial worthy of the Christ.  So, having observed keenly where they had laid Jesus, the weeping women returned to prepare their aromatic unguents; "and on the Sabbath day rested, according to the commandment."

Nevertheless, after their departure the garden was not left entirely deserted; to women still lingered there, sitting over against the door of the Sepulchre.  They were Mary Magdalene and Mary, mother of Joses and the Blessed Virgin's sister.

In vain at the enemies of Jesus hoped that His death would bring them respite from all future anxiety.  Hardly was He safely housed in the grave before they recalled His predictions.  Had He not proclaimed that upon the third day He would rise again; that He meant to vouchsafe them but one Sign,— the Sign of the Prophet Jonas, buried three days beneath the waves only to come forth with a fuller life; that a mystic Temple should be destroyed only to be builded up again in three days?

Guards at the tomb. J-J Tissot.

Recollections like these robbed them of that night's rest; their anxiety and fearfulness was so overpowering that we see them, in the early dawn, already assembling again.  And this notwithstanding that it was the day after the Parasceve, as Saint Matthew remarks,— the morning of their great Paschal Sabbath.  But everything must yield before these importunate terrors, even the hallowed repose of this day; thus they braved such a sacrilege as this in order to hold conference with a Pagan, upon the one solemn this day of the year.

Pontiffs and Pharisees forthwith betook themselves to Pilate's residence.

"My Lord," they began, "we're just remembered that this impostor, while he still lived, said: 'After three days I will rise again.' Give orders therefore that the sepulchre be guarded until the third day, for fear that his discipleS should come and steal him away and tell the people:'He is risen from the dead.'For then the last error would be worse than the first."

" Take some of the guards," answered Pilate; "go, guard it as well as you know how."

They started off straightway, and, to make more sure that no one should secretly open the Sepulchre, they sealed up the huge stone and stationed before it their guard of Roman soldiers.

Totus tuus ego sum

Et omnia mea tua sunt;

Tecum semper tutus sum:

Ad Jesum per Mariam.

The Death of Jesus: Part 2 of 2

Chapter VI: Death of Jesus

John xix. 23-30; Matt. xxvii. 33, 35, 39-50; Mark xv. 24, 29-37; Luke xxiii. 34-37, 39-46.

Meanwhile the storm of passion which His foes had raised around the silent Christ had grown less violent; though now and then the uproar would swell, as it was caught up again by the populace, renewed shouts bursting forth here and there.  But by this time a mass of dank and murky vapours, which had been rising over the earth, began to mount upward towards the Cross, enveloping it as in a funeral pall.  Terror speed anything the ranks of the throng; soon the space encircling the three crosses was left bare, and the little group drew nearer; it numbered only three women, with one of the disciples.  There was the Blessed Virgin with her sister Mary, Cleophas' wife; close beside them was Magdalene, the sinner, while John followed in their footsteps.  His name indeed is not inscribed here in the inspired history, but everything betrays his presence,— not only the reticence he shows in mentioning his own part therein, but even this very position beside his Lord, whither the Beloved Disciple could not have failed to find his way.

Face to face with the Cross, they halted, transfixed, their gaze riveted upon Him Whom they loved.  And Jesus after having first remembered His torturers only only to forgive them their share in His sufferings, after remembering the companion of His anguish, that so He might open to him the heavenly gates,— Jesus at length allowed His eyes to fall upon His own friends, who came to ask one last farewell; and looking, He beheld His Mother pierced with the sword whereof the aged Simeon had years ago forewarned her.

The tenderest of all the Church's hymns, our Stabat Mater, does but feebly express the poignant grief within her Mother's heart at such a woeful spectacle.  Better than anyone else Jesus realized what it meant for her: it was death He beheld drawing down upon Himself, but for His Mother could see only present grief and future loneliness.  Of His Apostles, John alone remained by Him, and growing more faithful in proportion as the danger increased, he now stood close at her side, protecting Mary.

Careful not to utter her name, fearing lest He might expose her to insults by revealing who she was, Jesus said, gently,—

" Woman, behold thy son!"

And then to John,—

" Behold thy Mother!"

From that moment the disciple received Mary into his dwelling and regarded her as his Mother.

" Behold thy Mother!" J-J Tissot

This last link binding him to earth now broken, Jesus cast Himself upon God's Bosom, that so His Passion might be consummated.  It was noonday when the first shades crept round about Golgotha; thereafter they had still continued to float upwards, shrouding Jerusalem, Judæa, and the entire world in a black winding-sheet.  No natural cause could be sufficient to account for this phenomenon, for the moon, just now at the full, rendered an eclipse of the sun impossible.  But the ground is wont to be swathed in murky vapours at the approach of earthquakes, which tear asunder the bowels of the earth, and now the world was wrapped in the trappings of woe, to bemoan the sufferings of its God.  The Cross, whereon the Christ hung in death, was hidden in a thick, black cloud; all human noises were hushed and died away, and the cry which antiquity has put into the mouth of Dionysius the Aeropagite expresses that mighty fear which shook the souls of men:

"Either the Divinity suffers, or He is moved to pity at some great woe!"

In this death of the Cross the torture grew each instant more unendurable; the lacerated feet and hands, the shattered body, wrenched so violently apart, the involuntary contraction of the muscles, the thirst, the delirium of fever,— everything intensified each separate pang to such a point that the crucified criminal cried upon death as a deliverer.

Thus, during three hours Jesus battled without uttering a single complaint.  What took place in the midst of those impenetrable shades?  The Evangelists, who have described the Agony in the garden, are silent concerning this of the Cross.  Yet in the end a great cried pierced the gloom, revealing the mystery of these hours of anguish.  Saint Mark has preserved these words just as they came from the lips of Jesus, in that familiar Aramean tongue which as a child He had learned at Mary's knee:—

"Eloï! Eloï! Lamma sabachthani?"

"My God! My God!  Why hast thou forsaken me?"

This lament is the opening of the Psalm wherein the Messiah’s Passion is all predicted,1— His strength ebbing away in streams of blood, His burning wounds and that parching thirst of whose fierceness the dying man alone has any knowledge.  But what were those bodily torments compared with the sufferings which racked His soul?  Indeed it was a mental agony which found an utterance in that cry of distress,—

"My God! My God!  Why hast thou forsaken me?"

Yet never did any dying soul feel as Jesus felt when now forsaken by God, because none but He alone has ever lived with God and in God.  Hanging there, reviled by earth and rejected by Heaven, He lingered in lonely conflict with another Agony like that which passed over Him in Gethsemane; yet this time He drained the cup to the very dregs.  To gather any faint idea of the wretchedness which seized Him in His present abandonment, we must remember that despite His own innocence, Jesus, when upon the Cross, bore the actual load of our crimes,—that he actually had taken upon Himself the wickedness of the world.  And now that God had transferred two Him all sins committed from the beginning unto the end of time, these all stood forth distinctly before His dying eyes, together with their very least circumstances.  Every treacherous and revengeful deed, the lewd and adulterous works of shame, blasphemies, slanders, and lying,— all together surged their foul floods into His Soul, and every other sense was swallowed up under these torrents of iniquity.  And it was in the same hour wherein the Christ was, as it were, overwhelmed in that first wild onslaught, that God saw fit to withdraw His Presence from Him, as if to crush Him beneath the weight of His vengeance.  Jesus, " having become sin for our sake," being made "a curse and an execration" (according to Saint Paul's expression), Jesus suffered at the hand of God such unutterable horror as no human tongue can declare.  In that hour Heaven drew away from Him into the darkness; Hell alone remained before the Saviour’s sight,— wherein was disclosed that never-ending despair, eternal, infinite, even as is the God whose penalty it is.

One lowermost depth of sorrow had still to be reached; it was the knowledge of how scanty was the number of souls who should profit by His Passion.  The multitude of the damned were all marshalled before His eyes; however unworthy, they were the members of His mystical Body, so closely united to Him that they could not be separated from Him without violence.  And as He saw this dearly loved portion of Himself about to be wrested from Him, Jesus felt that He indeed, like them was left destitute and reprobate for ever.

" He mourned," says Arnaud de Chartres, " that the fruit of His struggles should be torn from Him; He cried aloud that His sweat, His toils, and His death, were the thus bereft of their reward; since those for whom He had suffered so much would abandoned to everlasting perdition." This, then, was what wrung from Him that mournful cry:

"My God! My God!  Why hast thou forsaken me?"

But how can we make this moment of hope and despair to which Jesus yielded harmonise with the blessedness essential to His divine personality?  Here again there is involved an unfathomable mystery, the Mystery of the Incarnation.  To comprehend how the Son of God could speak of Himself as forsaken by His Father, we should first need to explain how the Infinite Being could take upon Himself a finite nature; for between these two humiliations there is only a difference of degree,— the abandonment of Jesus upon the Cross only continued what was first accomplished in the Incarnation, and in these two Mysteries the Godhead remains equally inviolable.  With the Christ in His anguish it was even as with those mountain chains whose white crests pierce the clouds.  Often the tempests do havoc with their rugged sides, strewing them with the wreckage of the storm; yet naught can trouble the snowy peaks, which, far, far above the whirlwind's reach, stand evermore serene and crowned with light.

In that same hour, the darkness disappearing, and with it the mists of fear, forthwith the Jews found courage to re-echo those words of Jesus,— feigning to mistake the divine Name of Eli for that of the Prophet.

"He is calling upon Elias," they said.

"He is calling upon Elias," they said. J-J Tissot.

Yet even by this and jibe they confessed to the throes of terror they had just felt; for all Israel knew that the awful Seer was to reappear upon a day of terror and blazing fire, beneath cloud-hung skies and a moon like blood, when all the heavenly powers would tremble in their spheres.

All at once another cry was heard.

"I thirst," Jesus said, giving tongue to the most excruciating pangs of crucifixion.

"I thirst," Jesus said. J-J Tissot.

One of the bystanders hurriedly dipped a sponge into the soldiers’ bitter drink and offered it to the Saviour; and as his arm could not reach so high as the head of the Sufferer, he took a reed, set the sponge upon the end of its stem, and put it to the lips of the Christ.  His deed of mercy drew forth a shriek of hatred from the mob:—

"Let's be!  Let's be!  And see if Elias will come to save him!"

"Let me alone," said the man; "we shall see, all the same, whether Elias will save him."

The Saviour pressed His lips to the sponge soaked with vinegar; then, with quickened powers, He fixed His gaze upon the world of men below Him.  In a trice His glance swept the whole duration of time and His Work.  He beheld the righteous who had gone before Him, and all those who in after days were to believev in Him who would find their way to His Cross, and there obtain their salvation.

"It is finished!" He said; everything is consummated,— My Passion, My Life, and the Salvation of mankind.

"It is finished!" He said. J-J Tissot.

Having spoken this last farewell to earth, He gave Himself into His Heavenly Father's keeping.

" Father," He cried with a loud voice, "into Thy hands I restore My Spirit."

It was the voice of a son throwing himself into the arms of his father, yet it was likewise the utterance of "Him from Whom no one taketh His Soul, but Who layeth it down when so ever it pleaseth Him."

The death of Christ. J-J Tissot.

Most of the disciples who were gazing upon this scene from afar, only heard "the great cry" mentioned by Saint Matthew and Saint Mark.  So, then, it must have been from some witness standing closer to the Cross, perchance from Mary's own lips, that Saint Luke learned Jesus’ last words.  John, too, was there, gazing upon the Saviour; and he saw that He had bowed down His head upon His breast and that He was dead.

Totus tuus ego sum

Et omnia mea tua sunt;

Tecum semper tutus sum:

Ad Jesum per Mariam.

The Death of Jesus: Part 1 of 2

 

Chapter VI: Death of Jesus

John xix. 23-30; Matt. xxvii. 33, 35, 39-50; Mark xv. 24, 29-37; Luke xxiii. 34-37, 39-46.

The soldiers had finished their work of fastening Jesus to the Cross; the last spike had been driven through his limbs.  Thereupon the Saviour's first thought was to plead for them.

"Father, forgive them," He said, "for they know not what they do."1

Touching words, yet scarcely heard by those ruffianly soldiers; for other cares already absorbed their attention.  Since the Roman law allowed them such spoils as they could take from the prisoner’s person, they now proceeded to share among themselves the tunic and mantle of Jesus.  The latter garment, being made of many pieces, was quickly separated into four equal shares; but the tunic was without seam, "and, from top to bottom, of the same weft;" to divide it would have been to destroy its value.

"Let us not cut it," said the soldiers, "but cast lots for it, whose it shall be."

And so they appealed to chance for a decision who was to wear the Christ's robe.

'Upon My robe they have cast lots.' J-J Tissot.

"This," says Saint John, "was in fulfilment of those prophetic words: 'They have parted My garments among them, upon My robe they have cast lots.'"

Now when all was settled, the soldiers seated themselves at the foot of the Cross and kept guard, lest anyone should try to remove the bodies of the crucified before they expired.

Generally, when upon the scaffold, criminals are given some last tokens of pity and respect.  Jesus had not even this consolation.  His enemies, after being so long balked of their prey while He was protected by the Praetorium, now crowded about the Cross and revenged themselves by loading  Him with vile jeerrs and hideous abuse.  Foremost in the ranks of the rabble were those lying witnesses produced by the Sanhedrin the night before.  They passed and re-passed continually before the gibbet, wagging their heads in token of contempt, blaspheming, and reminding the Christ of the calumnies to which He had fallen a Victim:—

"Bah!  You who would destroy the Temple of God and rebuild it in three days, come, save yourself and descend from the cross!"

Others hurled at Jesus the self-same challenge which He had once heard in the days of His first Temptation:—

"If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross!"

However, the multitude still stood motionless, regarding the Saviour with more of curiosity than hatred.  This silence irritated the Sanhedrin party, for in the meanwhile even such neutrality might be enough to allow the voice of justice to become audible in the depths of the people's hearts.  Accordingly we soon see these princes of Israel taking part in the clamour, along with their slaves and menials.  There were the same taunting invectives, the same senseless fury, with nothing but their more spiteful arrogance to distinguish them from the poorer mob.  They disdained even to turn towards the Christ and insult Him to His face, but, gathering together, priests, Scribes, and Ancients scoffed and cheered among themselves at His speechless agony.  Not daring to deny, in presence of the people, the miracles of the Galilean, they tried to blacken their renown, by contrasting them with the powerlessness to which He was now publicly reduced.

"He saved others," they sneered, " but he cannot save himself!"

Then, lifting their eyes towards the superscription, whose humiliating irony was Pilate's most offensive thrust,

"Let 'the Christ,'" they cried, " 'the King of Israel,' forthwith descend from his cross, in order that we may see him there and that we may believe in him!"

That title of "the Christ" brought back to the mind of Jesus all the last night's trial, the scene before the King, the struggles from which Pilate had retired vanquished, Himself stripped and scourged, then the long road to execution.  Still their rage waxed fiercer; now it even ventured to attack the love which Jesus bore His Father and, in its blasphemy, dared to defy the Almighty.

"He put his trust in God; so if God loves him let Him deliver him, for he said: 'I am the Son of God.'"

Nothing could check this fresh outburst of obloquy; in a short time the contagion spread through the masses, until the soldiers themselves had caught the spirit.  These fellows, now standing before Him, held up with mock sympathy the wine cup from which they had been drinking among themselves, and shouted at Jesus, with the crowd:—

"If you are the King of the Jews, now save yourself!"

And yet the insulting tumult had not reached its culminating point.  Jesus had been given companions in His sufferings, and He now beheld even these fellows turn against Him, and from those crosses, set up at His either hand, He heard this blasphemy re-echoed:—

" If you are the Christ, save yourself, save us!"

But only one of the robbers had spoken; the other gazed upon the Saviour, filled with admiration at His patient fortitude, and feeling his own heart drawn toward Him.  So when he heard his comrades scoff, he rebuked him, saying:—

The Penitent Thief. J-J Tissot.

"You have no fear of God, although you are condemned to the same sentence!  Yet for us, this is only justice, since we suffer pains we have merited, but this man here has done no evil."

Then, his faith springing up as if in quick response to his own testimony:—

"Lord," he exclaimed, " when Thou shalt come into Thy Kingdom, remember me!"

Never did grace so suddenly transform a criminal into a martyr, but surely never was confession of faith more meritorious, for it was in the very hour when, deserted and betrayed by all, Jesus hung in death upon the tree, that the good thief paid homage to His Kingliness Divine.

At this moment the Saviour could not make the slightest movement without intensifying His own anguish; yet, as He heard this prayer, He bent His head toward His companion and said:—

"I tell thee that, of a truth, today thou shalt be with Me in Paradise."

The humble penitent had only begged a place in His memory, and lo, this rich boon is granted him,— even the blessedness of God's Presence.  He had been contented with a ray of hope, but from this same day a never-ending happiness had become his portion.  Saint Matthew and Saint Mark seem not to have been aware of this episode, as recorded in the Third Gospel, for they only speak in vague terms of blasphemies having been uttered by the two brigands.  We know how much Saint Luke was indebted to Mary; doubtless it was from her lips he learned these words which passed from one to the other of those high crosses, only overheard by the Mother who stood so steadfastly beneath the gibbet of her expiring Son.

Totus tuus ego sum

Et omnia mea tua sunt;

Tecum semper tutus sum:

Ad Jesum per Mariam.

The Crucifixion

Chapter V: The Crucifixion

John xix. 16-22; Matt. xxvii. 31-34, 37, 38; Mark xv. 20-23, 25-27; Luke xxiii. 26-34, 38.

The long road, hallowed by the veneration of centuries as the Via Dolorosa, now opened before Jesus.  But is it possible, in our day, to still discover any footprints of the condemned God, or to retrace step by step that Way of the Cross now followed daily by so many Christians?  No, we think not; however, the criticisms which have been levelled against the traditional Stations have not succeeded in overthrowing them altogether.  The Praetorium, rising just north of the Temple, unquestionably marks the beginning of the Via Dolorosa; the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, whose walls enclose Calvary, indicates its end; so that at all events these were the two furthest points between which stretched the road trodden by Jesus on His weary journey to execution and death.

Via Dolorosa. Fouard.

Now precisely this line is the one in fact followed by the Via Dolorosa.  Undoubtedly heaps upon heaps of ruins have accumulated within this city, where, one after another, Romans, Persians, and Mussulmans have burned and levelled at everything down to the ground. Sixty, sometimes even eighty, feet of ashes and rubbish now conceal the original surface over which Jesus dragged His bleeding feet.  But though it would be childish to expect to find Jerusalem wearing the same features today as in the time of the Saviour, yet neither must we forget that the East treasures the memory of names and places with wonderful fidelity.  Even out of these same ruins it could reconstruct the Sanctuary, the sacred Tomb, all the overturned and shattered monuments.  These long-cherished recollections of the Via Dolorosa, therefore, have a real value, and they indicate, if not the precise spots, at least that quarter of the town wherein we must locate the scenes of the Passion.

This road descended from the Praetorium into Tyropæon Valley, and trending eastwards climbed a steep hillside.  Almost along the summit ran the city walls, and further afield, hemmed about by gardens and houses, lay the place of execution, Golgotha.  This name, meaning a skull, doubtless in those days designated some bald and lonely rock, rising from out the earth underlying skull-like upon this waste stretch of open.  Certain Jewish traditions declared that the head of Adam had been interred in this place, thus giving it its name; and this legend heightened the dread with which it was surrounded in the popular imagination. Golgotha must have been but a short distance beyond the walls of Jerusalem, for both the Greeks and Romans were wont to execute convicted criminals just at the gates of the towns, and near some thoroughfare sufficiently frequented to make the spectacle serve as the public example.

According to Saint John's narrative, after His condemnation Jesus passed into the hands of the Jews: "Pilate," he tells us, " delivered Jesus to them to be crucified; then they took Him and led Him forth to death." However, we need only completes this evidence by comparing it with that of the Synoptic writers to feel sure that some of the Roman soldiers, with a centurion in command, acted as the executioners of a sentence never in use among the Jews.  The High-Priests were content to merely countenance the proceedings by their presence.

The execution followed immediately upon the sentence.  This was Roman usage, while the Jews were in haste to see everything finished, for fear lest the body should be left upon the cross, and thereby profane the sanctity of their festival.  Accordingly the procession was formed forthwith; at its head rode a centurion on horseback, behind him walked four soldiers surrounding Jesus, and the two criminals sent with Him to their death.  The Saviour no longer wore the red robe; His executioners had taken it from Him, and again covered Him with His own garments.  But His head still bore the crown of thorns, and about His neck they had hung a tablet, whereon was written His condemnation.

Christ bearing His Cross. J-J Tissot.

The instrument of torture was now or produced; its form, as preserved by Tradition, is known to us by the name of the Latin Cross,— a long wooden post intersected near the top by a shorter cross beam, intended to hold the hands, while the upper part was intended to bear the legal inscription.  Although this Cross had not the dimensions often given it by Christian images, yet it weighed heavily upon the Lord's lacerated shoulders.  Condemned criminals dragged their own gibbets to the place of execution, and however cruel might have been the whipping so recently suffered by them, ordinarily enough strength was spared them to support this load; it was not so with the Saviour, now altogether exhausted, after the Agony of Gethsemane, the sweat of blood, and the lashes at the hands of the lictors.

All was ready; the procession marched rapidly toward Golgotha.  Stared at by an insolent crowd of sightseers, Jesus dragged that heavy badge of infamy across the rough streets of Jerusalem, and up the road which climbs Calvarywards.  He was all but reaching the gates when His powers failed Him, no jibes and curses, no blows from pike and the javelin, were spared to spur up such unfortunates as fell under their burden; but they soon saw that violence would be useless here,— that their Victim was incapable of carrying His Cross any further.

Simon the Cyrenean. J-J Tissot.

Just at this juncture a man happened to be entering the town; he was a Cyrenean Jew, returning from the country.  From his dress and the provisions he had with him in readiness for the Pasch the soldiers saw at a glance that he was a stranger employed at servile labour; to their minds this was ample excuse for obliging him to perform one of those forced services which the caprice of the legionaries was continually imposing upon provincial inhabitants.  They therefore compelled him to carry the Cross after Jesus.

This compulsory service rendered to the Saviour has sufficed to preserve the name of Simon the Cyrenean from oblivion.  Was he a disciple of the Christ? The Gospel does not say so, but Saint Mark recalls that Simon was father of Alexander and and Rufus, names known among the early Christians as belonging to brethren in the faith.

But for Jesus, the soldiers must needs help Him to rise, and even keep Him up along the way as far as Calvary.  At sight of the Man of Sorrows dragged to execution a shudder of pity swept through the throng, and a group of women who were close to Jesus lifted up their voices in cries of lamentations, wailing and beating their breasts.  The Law did indeed forbid them to render any such tokens of sympathy and regret to those about to die, but the compassion to which they gave utterance upon beholding the Christ was one of those movements which no ordinances can crush out altogether.

Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not over Me. J-J Tissot.

Moved by the great grief of these women, Jesus turned towards them, saying,—

" Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not over Me; but weep for yourselves and for your children; for soon the days shall come when they will say:'And blessed are the barren!  Blessed are the wombs which have not borne, and the breasts which have not given suck!' Then shall they begin to say to the mountains: 'Fall upon us!' And to the hills: 'Cover us!' For if men deal thus with the green wood, what shall be done in the dry?"

This response could not fail to surprise the women of Jerusalem,— its tone, so grave, so solemn, and well nigh severe, savouring not so much of gratitude for their tears, but sounding rather like an exhortation to penitence.  Thus indeed Jesus displays greater anxiety for them than for Himself; for to these or any women the Prophetic Voice had once uttered those strange words of Osee the son of Beeri:—

"Give unto them, Lord!  But what wilt thou give them?  Give unto them childless wombs and dry breasts....  And they shall say to the mountains,'Cover us;'and to the hills,'Fall upon us.'"

Forty years later the same maidens who now heard the words of Jesus were to be enveloped in the desolation of Jerusalem.  These young mothers were to behold the sword and a torch consume the flower of the harvest in Israel; the underground causeways of the city incapable of shielding their children against the insatiable rage of their conquerors; the corpses of the citizens heaped therein by thousands; while in the delirium of famine they themselves would actually devour the offspring of their wombs.  Need we marvel, then, that, at beholding the swift approach of such mighty woes, the Saviour trembled for these women, beseeching them to do penance?

And that He might make them more fully realise the need thereof He borrows from the Holy Books that example of the evergreen tree, symbol of virtue in its integrity, whereof He, the Just One, is the perfect Archetype.  Bidding them mark His torn and wounded body, and the brand which pierced his brow,—

"If men deal thus with the green tree," He exclaimed, "what will they do with the dry wood?"

Bereft of His strength and powerless, Jesus at last reached the place of execution.  The soldiers offered Him wine mingled with myrrh and poppy, which the Jews were accustomed to give to condemned criminals, thereby producing a sort of lethargy, and so lightening their sufferings.  Charitable ladies of noble rank were wont to prepare this themselves and carry it to the prisoners.  So, complying with the Jewish usage, the soldiers presented this beverage to the Saviour.

The soldiers offered Him wine mingled with myrrh. J-J Tissot.

Jesus, having tasted of it, would not drink, but steeled Himself to accept all the bitterness and hardships of His execution; His gaze was riveted upon the necessary preliminaries:— the Cross driven into the ground, hammers and then nails got ready, ladders raised aloft, cords knotted and prepared.  And so, at the nearness of His hour of torment, though a shudder may have shaken His limbs, His soul stood steadfast waiting the approach of death.

Jesus is stripped of His garments, J-J Tissot.

Finally the executioners seized Him and stripped Him of His garments; the Crucified Captive must hang naked upon the gibbet.  The cords, when pulled up by the soldiers dragged His body up to the spike protruding from the middle of the Cross.  This piece of wood, which passed under the legs of the condemned, was strong enough to hold him and prevent the weight of the body from tearing the hands from the iron nails.  Transfixed upon this stool of torture Jesus stretched out His arms.  

The first nail. J-J Tissot.

Doubtless it was necessary to bind the limbs to the cross-pieces, in order to keep the feet and hands from slipping off the nails with which they were pierced.  First the hands were fastened, the iron being driven through the palm, or wrist. Sometimes the feet were only bound with cords, but usually the executioner nailed them to the post, and this was what was done with Jesus; for after the Resurrection we see Him showing His disciples His feet pierced even as His hands, while Tradition, with one accord has applied to Him the Psalmist's Prophecy:—

"And they have pierced My feet My Hands."

In that same hour was accomplished the oracle of Isaias:-

" He was numbered with transgressors."

Two crosses had now been set up one on the right, the other on the left of Jesus, bearing two thieves condemned to death with Him.

It only remained for the soldiers to affix, above the head of the Christ, the inscription dictated by Pilate.  There on were to be read, in Hebrew, in Greek, and in Latin, these words:—

" And this is Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews."

The Title on the Cross. J-J Tissot.

At this derisive title, and that site of the two convicts ranged about the Christ, as though forming His rightful court and His true people, the Jews at once comprehended the satire last leveled against them.  Two week, indeed, to uphold his authority against the excited multitude, Pilate had regained at last and limb of courage, and immediately cast about for some occasion to avenge himself; so when he was handed the tablets designed to publish the crime of which Jesus was found guilty, he wrote a thereon this insult to the Jews, and, that it might be better understood, he employed not only Latin, the official language, but Greek as well, since that was more familiar to the Jews of the Dispersion, and also the Aramean dialect, because generally understood by the populace.  And furthermore, as if he thought that the outrage might still not be obvious enough to all by holders, he commanded that, on either side of Jesus, to robbers should be conducted and crucified with Him,— thereby showing the Jews plainly in what contempt he held both their nation and their dreams of royalty.

During the anxiety and rapidity of the march this is so prescription had not to be noticed; but hardly was it affixed to the Cross before the up front with well understood.  Soon the whole city was aware of it; four Golgotha lay at the gates of Jerusalem, and crowds all day he passed before the gibbet.  Straightway the cats high-Priests, laying aside their preparations for the Pasch, active again as the people's spokesman and went in search of the Governor.

They demanded that he should change the superscript shown and right, not: "Behold the King of the Jews!" But "Behold him who called himself the King of the Jews!"

" And that which is written is written," responded Pilate.

Totus tuus ego sum

Et omnia mea tua sunt;

Tecum semper tutus sum:

Ad Jesum per Mariam.

 

The Condemnation of Jesus

Chapter IV: The Condemnation of Jesus

Matt. xxvii. 26-30; Mark xv. 15; John xix. 1-16.

The scourging inflicted upon Jesus was a cruel torture.  Stripped of his garments and fastened by the wrists to a low column, the condemned person offered his back to blows which tore his flesh.  The instrument of punishment for foreigners was not the rod of elm ward reserved for Roman citizens, but a leathern thong, armed with knobs of bone and balls of lead.

Scourging Christ's back. J-J Tissot.

  

At every cut from this horrible lash the skin was raised in ragged furrows, blood streamed forth, and frequently the victim would fall at the lictors' feet, thereby exposing every portion of his frame to their attacks.  It was no rare thing to see the sentenced man succumb under this preliminary torture; for the Roman law had not set any limits to the duration of their sufferings, like those fixed by the Sanhedrin.  

No rule determined the number of blows; everything was left to the caprice of the lictors, who stopped at nothing short of a surfeit of cruelty or from sheer muscular exhaustion.

Scourging Christ's face. J-J Tissot.

The Gospels recorded this whipping without entering into its details; but the silence of Jesus, which acted as a savage spur to the fury of the executioners, Pilate's plan to move the sympathies of the Jews by the spectacle of their Victim, the condition to which the Saviour was reduced, so that He could not afterwards sustain His Cross,— all the facts, indeed, makers conjure has seen a prolonged agony.  It all took place in the Pretorium and under the eyes of the people, for we see that immediately after the flagellation the soldiers brought Jesus back into the court of Antonia.

And there, renewing the insulting fast just now enacted by Herod in their presence, they shouted to the others of their cohort, and together these Fellows offered a scurrilous homage to the new "King of the Jews." Jesus, mounted in derision upon a throne, was covered with a mantle of red linen such as the legionaries wore.  In the meantime some of the ruffians had woven a crown of thorns with which they at once encircled a Saviour's head; then, taking a reed strong as wood, they set it in His hand.  With a throne, a crown, a sceptre, nothing was lacking now to them eagles state of the new Monarch, save the worshipful fealty of His subjects; accordingly such tokens were lavished upon Him:—

"Hail, King of the Jews!" they shouted, reverently Bending the knee before Him, but arising again only to load Him with rough blows and with spittle discharged full at His face.

"Hail, King of the Jews!" J-J Tissot.

During this series of outrages the reed slipped from the hand of Jesus, Who was still bound tightly and utterly helpless; suddenly they seized it, and striking that sacred head, drove the thorns fast within His brow.  The compassion which Pilate always displayed for Jesus makes it impossible to believe that the Governor was a witness of this scene.  However, his orders had been faithfully executed, even exceeded, and he desired to profit thereby to excite the sympathy of the people.  Once more appearing upon the square of Gabbatha he bespoke their attention.

"Behold," he said to the Jews, " I bring him out hither to you, that so you may know I find no crime in him."

And Jesus came forth, the crown of thorns upon His forehead, the red robe hanging about His bloodstained body.  Then they forced Him to mount the steps of the tribunal.

" Behold the man!" Pilate cried to the throng.  But their hearts were shouts now against pity.

"Behold the man!" J-J Tissot

" Crucify him, crucify him!" they shouted.

Their cruelty stirred the Governor's indignation; he had something like a resolution to save Jesus.

"Take him you and crucify him; for indeed I find no cause of death in him."

The Jews could not construe this as meaning a permission in any serious sense; and this was why, upon seeing all their accusations were of no avail, they at last unmasked the real reason of their relentless hatred of Jesus,— His so-called blasphemy, whereby He made Himself equal with God, a crime which the Law punished by stoning the guilty man.  Rome respected the religious customs of its subjects; they therefore hoped that the Governor would end by yielding to their wishes.

" We have a law," they said, " and according to that law he ought to die; because he made himself the Son of God."

Son of God!  The words threw Pilate's mind into a state of still greater uneasiness.  In vain did he turn away from the Victim Whom his soldiers had been disfiguring with their heavy whips.  A King just now, Jesus had suddenly risen above the ranks of mankind.  Yet had not this Jew, Whose sole crime it was that He said He was the Son of God,— had He not, perhaps, justified His high claims by His calm bearing amid the brutality of His torturers?  Or the mythological dreams in which Pilate's childhood had been cradled, the soldiers' own story, how last night they had been flung back to earth at His word, the vision appearing to his wife, these all came crowding back upon his mind.

" What did they mean by this 'Son of God?' Whence came he?"

More trouble than ever, he bade them bring back the Saviour; then alone, and face to face with Him, he said:—

" Whence are you?"

Jesus made no reply.

" What!" exclaimed the Governor, " do you not speak to me?  Do you not know that I have both power to crucify you and the power to break your bonds asunder?"

"You should have no power over Me," responded Jesus, " if it were not given you from above."

Jesus before Pilate. J-J Tissot.

Then comparing Pilate's crime with that of the Jews, He distinguished between the guilt of hatred and that of weakness:—

" And this is why the crime of him who delivers Me into your hands is a greater than yours."

Yielding finally to the voice of conscience the Governor determined to release Jesus; again he stepped forth from the Pretorium, whereupon a new storm of cries assailed him.

" If you release this man you are no friend of Caesar; whoever makes himself the King is Caesar's enemy."

Terrible threat, for the Caesar on that day was Tiberius, and no-one there but knew what powers lay in the reach of informers.  Even Herod had not been able to defend himself against the statements of these Jews; his son Archelaus had lately been deposed at their instance; little more than this would be enough to overwhelm Pilate.  Straightway losing sight of Jesus his mind pictured only that suspicious master of his world, who, from the rocky Heights of Caprea, made the earth tremble; saw in a flash the Jews summoning him before this inexorable judge,— the crime of high treason charged against him,— his fortune plundered,— then exile and death.  He could make no stand against these phantoms of his imagination; fear of the future overmastering every other feeling he commanded Jesus to be brought out, and himself ascended the judgment-seat.  It was the eve of the Pasch, about the sixth hour (between half past ten and eleven in the morning); the Jews were surging wildly about the high tribunal where Pilate, although become that all of their hatred, strove still to command respect by invading his terrors under a semblance of haughty contempt.

"And this, then, is your King?" he began again.

But his voice was drowned by the cries of the multitude.

"Away with him, away with him!"

"Crucify him!"

"This is your King; shall I crucify your King?"

"We have no King but Caesar" J-J Tissot.

The one last word gave the spur to his tardy resolution.

"We have no King but Caesar," shouted the chief priests.

Vanquished at last he delivered Jesus into their hands.

His crime was to be severely punished; three years had not elapsed when, upon the depositions of certain Samaritans, Vitellius, Proconsul of Syria, delegated Marcellus there to take in hand the affairs of Judaea, and enjoined Pilate to proceed to Rome, and there clear himself of the accusations brought against him.  The fearful misgivings to which he had succumbed in sacrificing Jesus became realities; condemned in his turn, despoiled of all his property, he was sent into exile.  Vienna still points out, upon the banks of the Rhone, a high pyramid which passes for the tomb of Pilate.  We are told by various traditions that it was here, when dragged down by remorse, the banished man put a violent end to his existence.  Still other religions would have us believe that, in the midst of his misfortunes, he was sought out by the grace of Jesus; and the Abyssinian Church finds a place in the ranks of the saints for this week-spirited man who, nevertheless, was a Christian, says Tertullian, in the fugitive, impotent longings of his soul.

Totus tuus ego sum

Et omnia mea tua sunt;

Tecum semper tutus sum:

Ad Jesum per Mariam.

Jesus at the Praetorium and before Herod: Part 2 of 2

Chapter III: Jesus at the Praetorium and before Herod

John xviii. 28-40; Matt. xxvii. 2, 11-25; Mark xv. 1-14; Luke xxiii. 1-25.

This Prince's suite was quartered in the ancient residence of the Maccabees, to which Herod's sons had retired when their father’s palace was occupied by the Roman governors.  Thither the legionaries conducted Jesus, surrounded by His enemies.  We shall not try to follow the Saviour over this portion of His sorrowful journey; but it is hardly probable that his guards would have forced him to descend the steep side of Moriah and then reascend the Hill of Sion, when by crossing from the western portico of the Temple and over the bridge of Tyropœan, they could at once reach the Prince's palace.

Plan of Jerusalem. Fouard.

The appearance of Jesus before him excited only a frivolous pleasure in Herod's mind, for his depraved soul was now incapable of even such anxieties as were troubling Pilate's conscience.  For a long time he had been kept informed of all the reports concerning the Christ, and he was only too anxious to be an eye-witness of some of His prodigies.  Undoubtedly the young Physician, to escape execution, would satisfy his curiosity by performing some miracle.  Full of such ideas, Herod at first treated the Prisoner with some show of respect, plied Him with questions, and pressed Him to display His supernatural power.

But Jesus had sounded the shallow depths of this Prince's mind; and He, Who had only words of tender mercy for Pilate, deigned not so much as a word in reply to Herod.  This silence disconcerted the Tetrarch; the Sanhedrin-party, on the other hand, were not less deceived.  They had counted upon recovering their ascendancy with a prince of their nation, and without urging any false pretexts, had expected him to strike immediately at what was most hateful to them in Jesus, His Doctrine and His pretensions to the title of the Messiah; but all their furious entreaties and objurgations were thrown away on Herod.

Of Idumean ancestry, though a Jew by birth, and inclining naturally towards the skepticism of the Sadducees, the Tetrarch had long ago stifled his conscience too thoroughly to admit of his now taking any interest in questions of religion.  And, further than this, by condemning Jesus would he not run the risk of a popular movement in His favour?  Or at any rate, there was the possibility of incurring such terrors has had assailed him after the execution of John Baptist!  Anxious above all things not to endanger his own comfort, the despotic egoist lost no time in returning compliment for compliment, by reminding Jesus and back again to Pilate.  

Jesus before Herod. J-J Tissot.

Provoked, however, at having been so set at naught, he desired on his side to display his disdain for the Christ and, in token of division, had Him arrayed in a white robe.  What was this garment meant to travesty?  Perhaps the consul's toga or that of the Roman candidates, thus disguising Jesus as though he were some puppet sovereign of the stage; or was it perhaps the garb assumed by Jews acquitted of capital offence, Herod indicating by this that he regarded the Prisoner as a fool, incapable of any crime?  The Procurator appears to have interpreted it in this last sense, for, in arguing with the people for the life of the Christ, he urged in His defence this burlesque acquittal.

Distasteful as it was to Pilate to resume the trial of which he had thought himself disburthened, yet he took considerable satisfaction from this mark of courtesy on Herod's part, and their mutual deference put an end to all resentment between them.  The Governor's undertakings, hitherto hostile to the Tetrarch's authority; the blood of the Galileans shed in the Temple,— everything in fact was forgotten, and on the same day they became friends.

Jesus led back to Pilate. J-J Tissot.

Once again Jesus was hurried along the road to Antonia.  The insulting magnificence with which He was attired rendered His wretched state more striking. Pilate was touched thereat, and, fortified by Herod's dismissal, endeavoured to wrest their Victim from the Sanhedrin's clutches.  Accordingly he assembled the princes of the priesthood and the magistrates; but they, on their part, bent upon forcing his consent, had collected a mob of the populace in order to influence him further.

With Jesus at his side, Pilate addressed them.

"You have produced this man before me," he said, "and accuse him of exciting that the people; and now I, after having examined him before you, find nothing in him touching what you charge him withal.  And in like manner Herod, to whom I referred you, has found nothing in him worthy of death."

Whether a threatening silence or a fresh outcry greeted these words, Pilate at all events believed it was best to make amends for them somehow, so he added:—

" I will chastise him, therefore, and let him go."

Lightly as he regarded the penalty referred to in these words, it was nonetheless a piece of iniquitous acquiescence on his part, and a sign of weakness which could not escape the Sanhedrin-party.  There he resolved to push their advantage with all their strength.

Meanwhile the crowds were beginning to ascend the approaches to the Fortress Antonia, attracted by the assembly drawn up before the Praetorium or to take part in a ceremony which was always performed just at this time.  During the morning of the Parasceve, the Roman governors, in order to heighten the solemnity of Passover-time, had always granted a pardon to some prisoner designated by the Jews.  This custom, of which we find no trace either in Scripture or in the Rabbinical traditions, had doubtless been introduced by some procurator, anxious to conciliate his new subjects.  Rome, always ready to extend amnesties, either in public calamities or at the anniversaries of the Caesars, afterward consecrated this favour accorded by one of her magistrates, and we see Pilate respecting the observance as though it had all the force of the law.

The sight of the multitudes thronging the square of Gabbatha, and with loud shouts demanding this privilege, suggested a new expedient to Pilate's mind.  Among the condemned who were to be executed according to custom during the Paschal season, there was a man named Barrabas, notorious for his wickedness.  At the head of a riotous herd, he had caused bloodshed in Jerusalem itself, and headed a revolt, not only against the authority of Rome, but against that of the Sanhedrin as well; for it was from their prison that the Governor was about to procure him.  Saint John's explanation, remembering how that the divine Master was compared to him, is testimony enough as to the contempt with which the criminal was popularly regarded:—

"Now Barrabas was a robber!"

Barrabas. J-J Tissot.

Pilate hoped that between this scoundrel and the innocent One Whom they were pursuing, the Jewish populace would not hesitate to give the latter the preference.

"Whom do you wish me to deliver to you?" he cried, "Barrabas, or Jesus who is called Messiah?" And so speaking, he ascended the steps of the tribunal, set before the Praetorium.

No sooner was he seated than some of his servants came in search of him, sent thither by his wife.

From her apartments in the Fortress, she was now looking down upon the scene.  Tradition tells us that her name was Claudia Procula, and that she was a pious lady, one of the "Proselytes of the gate" so numerous just then in the ranks of the Roman nobility; a divine light had shown her that the doctrine of Jesus was still more perfect than the Law of Jehovah.  All the night previous a strange uneasiness had taken possession of her at the first report the young Teacher was to be arrested; nor had sleep in the least calmed her anguish of spirit, but all night long terrible dreams had disturbed her slumbers.  Consequently, when she saw Jesus encircled by the furious mob, with Pilate hesitating and half-prepared to condemn Him, she bade some of her people bear this message to her husband:—

"Let there be nothing between you and that just man, for I have been greatly distressed in a dream this day because of him."

Alone against all these wicked judges, these false witnesses, these inhuman wretches, a pagan woman found, deep down in her heart, enough of strength and tenderness to plead the cause of Jesus.  Of this deed Christians have ever cherished a grateful memory, while the Greeks have given her a place in their Menology in the company of the Saints.

But these few moments had been turn to their own advantage by the priests and magistrates.  Spreading their views through the multitude, they finally succeeded in inflaming them with their fierce passions, persuading them to choose Barrabas in preference to the Saviour.

And so, when Pilate demanded for the second time: " Do you wish me to deliver to you the King of the Jews?" one unanimous shout rose from the surging populace:—

"Rid us of him and release Barrabas!"

"What shall I do, then, with him a whom you call the King of the Jews?" replied the Governor.

"Crucify him, crucify him!" responded the crowd with one voice.

"But what evil has he done?" persisted the judge, now become advocate for his prisoner.  "As for me, I find no cause of death in him.  I will chastise him therefore and let him go."

But then the multitude repeated with wilder tumult,—

"Crucify him, crucify him!"

"Crucify him, crucify him!" J-J Tissot.

"And their horrible efforts against Him grew in strength ever more, clamouring that he might be crucified, whilst still the shouts continued to increase."

Seeing that he gained nothing, while on the contrary the uproar was only swelling, Pilate wished to declare plainly that he looked upon Jesus as a just man, and that he intended to disclaim any responsibility for His death.  There was a custom in Israel which ordained that the magistrates of any city where the author of a murder remained undiscovered should wash their hands over the corpse of the victim, in witness of their own innocence.  This indeed, prescribed by Deuteronomy, served the Governor in place of further speech with the people, who were sharply watching his every action.  He therefore ordered water to be brought, and therewith washed his hands.

" I am innocent of the blood of this just man," he said; " now, then, it is your own concern!"

Whereupon all the people answering said:—

" His blood be upon us and upon our children!"

Pilate had not courage to resist further, and discharging Barrabas, released from his chains, he delivered over the Christ into the hands of the soldiery.  Doubtless he did not mean as yet to abandon Him; but, because whipping was the first preliminary for crucifixion, he hoped that the blood of Jesus would appease His enemies and enable him, even yet, to rescue Him.

Totus tuus ego sum

Et omnia mea tua sunt;

Tecum semper tutus sum:

Ad Jesum per Mariam.