Station 11


The Roman centurion orders his soldiers to prepare Yeshua for crucifixion. They lay him down on the cross while one soldier places a knee on his stomach, and the other places a nail on his wrist. I can’t watch, this is too much for me, and I avert my eyes, but I hear the strike of the hammer on the iron, and I hear Yeshua scream in pain. Something caused me to look up, and I see Yeshua’s face staring up to heaven, it is like a face of a child. In turn, his other hand is attached, and then his feet; I feel sick. Aaron, trying to re-construct this horrific scene in some sort of order, reaches into his soul, and admits that he is guilty, guilty from taking the goodness from Yeshua, but offering nothing in return.

I am Yeshua, Aaron says quietly to himself, I am persecuted, and I do nothing. I watch like the rest, but unlike Yeshua suffering pain and anguish in this public place, I can only sympathize from a private safe distance. Yeshua is being killed for standing up to truth, speaking for the poor and the marginalized and I am persecuting myself because I know the truth, but won’t admit it.

Pray for those who are persecuted. Pray for those who shine with God’s diversity and are put to death, placed in prison or silenced. Pray for those who persecute, blindly following without discernment or enforcing without thought. Pray for those who remain silent, unable to look at the cross.

“I am poured out like water; all my bones are out of joint; my heart within me breast is melting wax.” (Psalm 22:14)