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.
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| '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:—
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| 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.
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