“Give us Barabbas,” they shout back.
* * *
At the same time that Jesus is being judged, the business of Passover begins in the Temple courts. Despite their sleepless night, Caiaphas and the other priests cannot afford the luxury of a morning’s rest. Soon they walk across the bridge connecting the Upper City with the Temple and prepare to go about their day. Already, long lines of pilgrims are forming, and with them grows the incessant bleating of young male lambs.
The first sacrifices will take place at noon, in keeping with the law. Rows of priests are now assembling, some carrying silver bowls and others gold. These are for catching the blood of the lamb as its throat is slit. The bowls are then carried to the altar and the blood poured in sacrifice. A Levite choir is gathering as well, along with men who will honor this great day with blasts from their silver trumpets.
* * *
Pontius Pilate does not care a whit about what is happening inside the Temple. The focus of his attention is the problem still standing before him. The Roman governor does not believe that executing such a popular figure as Jesus is a wise decision. Any unrest among the people following an execution of this sort would certainly be reported to Tiberius, and any fallout laid at the feet of Pilate.
So rather than crucify Jesus, Pilate sentences the Nazarene to verberatio. Perhaps that will appease the Sanhedrin. The Roman governor calls the high priests and church elders together to announce this decision. “You brought me this man as one who was inciting the people to rebellion. I have examined him in your presence and found no basis for your charges against him. Neither has Herod, for he sent him back to us. As you can see, he has done nothing to deserve death. Therefore, I will punish him and release him.”
Within moments, the Nazarene is stripped and led into the praetorium courtyard.
The scourging pole awaits.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
JERUSALEM’S UPPER CITY
APRIL 7, A.D. 30
8:00 A.M.–3:00 P.M.
Jesus endures. As with any other victim, his hands are manacled to the metal ring atop the scourging post, rendering him unable to move. Two legionaries stand behind him, one on either side. Each grasps a wooden-handled flagrum, from which extend three leather tendrils. Each thong is roughly three feet long. Today, rather than bits of metal or sheep bone, the executioners have affixed to the tips small lead weights known as plumbatae. The choice is strategic. These dumbbell-shaped implements do not rip away flesh and muscle as quickly as the sharper scorpiones tips. It is not yet time for Jesus to die.
A third legionary stands to one side. He holds an abacus so that he might keep track of the number of blows inflicted. The fourth member of the quaternio is the man responsible for tying and chaining Jesus to the scourging post. He now stands by to replace any member of the death squad who tires in his duties. Watching over all of them is the exactor mortis, the supervisor.
Jesus feels the lash. There is no gap between the blows. The instant one executioner pulls back his whip, the other unfurls his lash across Jesus’s back. Even when the tendrils of leather and lead get tangled, the soldiers don’t stop. The most lashes a man can receive under the laws of Moses are “forty minus one,” but the Romans don’t always trifle with Jewish legalities. Pilate has told these men to lash Jesus, and now they do so until the Nazarene is physically broken but not yet dead.
That is the order: scourge the Nazarene, but under no circumstances is he to be killed.
After the whipping, Jesus is unchained and helped to his feet. He has cried out in pain during his scourging, but he has not vomited or had a seizure, as many do. Still, he is losing a lot of blood, due to his severely lacerated back. The lash marks extend down to the back of his calves. And in addition to the dehydration that has plagued him all night, Jesus is in the early stages of shock.
The Roman death squad has clearly done its job. Striking at the Nazarene with surgical precision, they have beaten him almost to death. Pilate has made it clear that this will be the extent of their duties today. Yet they stand by for more, just in case.
Jesus’s hands are still tied in front of him. He is slowly led back to the prison, where the Roman soldiers have their own brand of fun with this unique prisoner. Jesus does nothing as they drape that filthy purple cloak over his naked body, knowing it will soon stick to his wounds. The soldiers then make a faux scepter from a reed and thrust it into Jesus’s hands, again mocking his claim of being king. Rather than take pity on a man who has just endured a scourging, the soldiers spit on the Nazarene.
If the soldiers stopped there, it would be a moment of low comedy by a group of barbaric men. But these brutes now turn their mockery into sadism. Up to this point it can be argued that they are merely soldiers, doing the job they were trained to do. Certainly, the Nazi death squads of World War II, who will pattern much of their behavior after the cold, heartless actions of the Roman quaternio, used that defense. The actions of Julius Caesar and so many other Roman warriors clearly show that unthinkably harsh punishment was a standard way to deal with enemies of Rome. There was even a certain pathological creativity to their methods.
But now the soldiers guarding Jesus up the ante. This is not a single death squad but an entire company of Pilate’s handpicked legionaries. In an atrocious display, they begin to cut a tall white shrub. Rhamnus nabeca features rigid elliptical leaves and small green flowers, but its most dominant characteristic is the inch-long curving thorns that sprout closely together. The soldiers are more than willing to endure the prick of these sharp spikes as they weave several branches together to form a crown. When they are done, this wreath makes a perfect complement to the reed and the purple cloak. All hail the king!
Jesus is too weak to protest when the crown of thorns is fitted onto his head, and the spikes pressed hard into his skin. They brush up against the many nerves surrounding the skull almost immediately and then crash into bone. Blood pours down his face. Jesus stands humiliated in the small prison as soldiers dance around him—some punching him, others spitting, and still others getting down on both knees to praise their “king.” Piling on, the soldiers rip the reed from Jesus’s hand and strike him hard across the head, which pushes the thorns even deeper into that tight network of nerves. The result is an instant fiery sensation radiating up and down his face.
Much to the jailers’ delight, they have contrived one of the most gruesome methods of torture conceivable.
But just when it seems that Jesus can’t take anymore, the soldiers receive word that Pilate would like to see the prisoner. Once again, Jesus is led out into the public square, where the Sanhedrin and its loyal followers stand waiting.
Jesus’s vision has blurred. Fluid is slowly building around his lungs. He is having a hard time breathing. He has predicted his death all along, but the details of his demise are shocking.
The high priests and religious leaders watch as Jesus steps forth, the crown of thorns still on his head. In him, they see the memory of a man who publicly humiliated them in the Temple courts just three days ago. They can see his suffering now, yet they have no sympathy whatsoever. Jesus must die—the more painfully, the better.
It is 9:00 A.M. as Pilate takes his seat again on the judgment throne. He tries one last time to release Jesus. “Here is your king,” he snarls at the assembly of religious leaders and their disciples. These men should be in the Temple courts, for the slaughter of the lambs is soon to begin.
“Take him away,” the religious leaders chant. “Take him away. Crucify him.”
Pilate is tired of arguing. The Roman governor is not known for his compassion and believes he has done all that he can do. The fate of Jesus is simply not worth the effort.
“Shall I crucify your king?” he asks, seeking a final confirmation.
“We have no king but Caesar,” a chief priest replies. If taken at face value, those words are an act of heresy, for in saying them the priest is rejecting his own Jewish God in favor of the god of the R
oman pagans. Yet the followers of the Sanhedrin see no irony in the situation.
“What crime has he committed?” Pilate yells back.
“Crucify him!” comes the response.
Pilate orders that a small bowl of water be brought to Jesus. He dips his hands into the chalice and theatrically makes a show of a ritual cleansing. “I am innocent of this man’s blood,” he tells the religious leaders. “It is your responsibility.”
But in fact the responsibility belongs to Pilate. Only the Roman governor possesses the ius gladii—“the right of the sword.” Or, as it is also known, the right to execute.
So it is that Pilate orders his executioners to take control of Jesus. As they lead the Nazarene away to be crucified, Pontius Pilate prepares for an early lunch.
* * *
The purple cloak is ripped away, but the crown of thorns remains. The death squad places a plank of unfinished wood on Jesus’s shoulders. It weighs between fifty and seventy pounds, it is just a little less than six feet long, and its splinters quickly find their way into the open wounds on the Nazarene’s body. The humiliation at Pilate’s palace now complete, the procession toward the place of execution begins.
At the front of the line is the officer known as the exactor mortis. By tradition, this centurion holds up a sign written in Greek, Aramaic, and Latin. Normally, a man’s crimes are listed on the sign, which will be nailed onto the cross above him. This way, any passerby will know why the man was crucified. So if treason is the charge, then that is what the sign should state.
But Pontius Pilate is changing tradition. In a last attempt to get the better of Caiaphas, the governor writes the inscription himself, in charcoal: JESUS THE NAZARENE: KING OF THE JEWS.
“Change it,” Caiaphas demands before the crucifixion procession gets under way.
“It stays exactly as it is,” Pilate replies, his condescension apparent.
So the sign leads the way as Jesus and his four executioners make the painfully slow journey to Golgotha, the hill used as the Roman execution ground. The trip is slightly less than half a mile, taking Jesus through the cobbled streets of Jerusalem’s Upper City, then out the Gennath Gate, to the low hill on which a vertical pole awaits him. It is getting close to noon. A substantial crowd has gathered to watch, despite a blazing sun overhead.
As a former builder and carpenter, the Nazarene knows the proper way to carry a length of lumber, but now he lacks the strength to do so. The exactor mortis becomes concerned as Jesus repeatedly stumbles. Should Jesus die before reaching the place of execution, it is the exactor mortis who will be held responsible. So a pilgrim bystander, an African Jew named Simon of Cyrene,1 is enlisted to carry the crossbeam for Jesus.
The procession continues. Despite the assistance, the Nazarene is constantly on the verge of fainting. Each stumble drives the thorns on his head deeper into his skull. Jesus is so thirsty he can barely speak.
Meanwhile, just a few hundred yards away, in the Temple courts, the celebration of Passover is well under way, diverting the attention of many who revere Jesus and who might otherwise have rioted to intervene and save his life.
The execution site, Golgotha, is not a large hill. It is a low rise within a very short distance from Jerusalem’s city wall. In fact, anyone standing atop those walls will be able to view Jesus’s crucifixion at eye level and will be so close that they can hear every word he says if he speaks loudly enough.
But Jesus hasn’t spoken in hours. As the procession arrives atop Golgotha, the soldiers send Simon away and hurl the crossbeam onto the dirt and rough limestone—“Jerusalem rock,” some call it. The death squad takes control here. They force Jesus to the ground, laying his torso atop the upper crossbeam, the patibulum. His hands are then stretched out and two soldiers put all their weight on his extended arms, as another approaches with a thick mallet and a six-inch iron nail with a square shaft that tapers to a point.
The soldier hammers the sharpened point into Jesus’s flesh, at precisely the spot where the radius and ulna bones meet the carpals of the wrist. He jabs the nail hard into the skin to stabilize it before impact.
Jesus cries out in pain as the iron pierces its mark. The Romans use the wrist location because the nail never hits bone, instead passing all the way through to the wood with just a few sharp swings of the hammer. The wrist bones, meanwhile, surround the soft tissue, forming a barrier. So when the cross is hoisted upward and the victim’s body weight suspends from that spike, the bones keep the thin layer of muscle from ripping, preventing the person from falling to the ground.
The first wrist secure, the executioner moves on to the second. A crowd watches from the base of the hill. Among them are Jesus’s devoted friend Mary Magdalene and his mother, Mary. She came to Jerusalem for Passover, not having any idea what would befall her son. Now she can do nothing but look upon him in anguish.
After Jesus is nailed to the crossbeam, the executioners hoist him to his feet. A careful balancing act ensues, because the weight of the wood is now on Jesus’s back—not his shoulders. In his weakened state, he could easily fall over. Soldiers hold up both ends of the crossbeam, while a third steadies Jesus as they back him toward the vertical beam that will complete the cross.
The staticulum, as this in-ground pole is known, is close to eight feet tall. In cases where the Romans want a victim to suffer for days before dying, a small seat juts out halfway up its length. But tomorrow is the Sabbath, and Jewish law says that a man must be taken off the cross before it begins. The Romans want Jesus to die quickly. Thus, there is no seat (sedile) on Jesus’s cross.
Nor is there a footrest. Instead, when the moment comes that his feet are nailed into the wood, they must first be flexed at an extreme angle.
One soldier grabs Jesus around the waist and lifts him up as the other two hoist their ends of the crossbeam. The fourth executioner stands atop a ladder that leans against the staticulum, guiding the crossbeam into the small joint that has been carved into the top of the vertical piece. The weight of Jesus’s body holds the beam inside the groove.
And so it is that Jesus of Nazareth now hangs on the cross. Another moment of agony comes when Jesus’s knees are bent slightly and his feet are lapped one over the other and nailed into place. The spike passes through the fine metatarsal bones on its way into the wood but, amazingly, none of the bones break, which is extremely unusual in a crucifixion.
Finally, in the spot directly over Jesus’s head, the sign carried by the exactor mortis is nailed into the cross. Their physical work done, the death squad begins mocking Jesus, throwing dice for his once-fine tunic and calling up to him, “If you are the king of the Jews, save yourself.”
The Roman killers will remain on Golgotha until Jesus dies. They will drink their sour wine and even offer some to Jesus. If necessary, they will break his legs to hasten his demise. For death on the cross is a slow journey into suffocation. Each time a victim takes a breath he must fight his own body weight and push his torso upward using his legs, thus allowing his lungs to expand. In time, the victim, exhausted, can breathe neither in nor out.
Three hours pass. The Passover celebration continues inside the Temple courts, and the sounds of singing and of trumpets resound across the city to the execution site. Indeed, Jesus can see the Temple Mount quite clearly from his place on the cross. He knows that many are still waiting for him. The news of his execution has not traveled far, much to the delight of Pilate and Caiaphas, who still fear the possibility of Jesus’s supporters starting a riot when they hear news of his murder.
“I thirst,” Jesus finally says, giving in to the dehydration that has consumed him for more than twelve hours. His voice is not more than a whisper. A soldier soaks a sponge in sour wine and reaches up to place it to the Nazarene’s lips, knowing the liquid will sting.
Jesus sucks in the tart fluid. Shortly afterward, he gazes on Jerusalem one last time before the inevitable happens.
“It is finished,” he says.
Jesus bows his head. The crown of thorns hangs rigidly. He lapses into unconsciousness. His neck relaxes. His entire body rolls forward, pulling his neck and shoulders away from the cross. Only the nails in his hands hold him in place.
The man who once preached the Gospel so fearlessly, who walked far and wide to tell the world about a new faith, and whose message of love and hope reached thousands during his lifetime—and will one day reach billions more—stops breathing.
Jesus of Nazareth is dead. He is thirty-six years old.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
JERUSALEM’S UPPER CITY
APRIL 7, A.D. 30
3:00 P.M.–6:00 P.M.
The race is on. The Roman death squad has had a hard day, but there is still more work to be done. It is their practice to leave a man on the cross for days after he dies, perhaps to allow his body to decompose or even be eaten by wild animals. But Jewish law dictates that a body cannot remain on a “tree”1 during the Sabbath, which begins at sundown today and continues throughout Saturday. So the quaternio must take Jesus down off the cross and throw his body into the communal grave reserved for criminals.
The exactor mortis now verifies Jesus’s death by thrusting a spear into his chest. The pleural and pericardial fluid that have built up around Jesus’s heart and lungs for hours now pours out, mixed with a torrent of blood. Extracting the spear tip, the captain of the guard2 then orders his men to remove Jesus from the cross. It is a crucifixion in reverse, with the men using ladders and teamwork to bring Jesus and the crossbeam back to the ground. Once again, Jesus is laid flat. But now the death squad works hard to remove the nails—unbent. Iron is expensive, and spikes are reused as much as possible.
Most who witnessed Jesus’s crucifixion from a distance have departed. Mary, his mother, and Mary Magdalene are among those who remain. But as the soldiers now go about the hard physical labor of un-crucifying a man, a Sadducee named Joseph of Arimathea steps forth. This wealthy member of the Sanhedrin and secret disciple of Jesus was one of the few dissenting voices during the illegal trial. Another of those voices was that of Nicodemus the Pharisee, who now stands atop Golgotha with Joseph. They have received permission from Pilate to take the body, as the governor wants to put this execution to rest as soon as possible.
Killing Jesus: A History Page 18
