I bent down to help him pick up the crossbeam. Then he looked at me with a look I’ll never forget. Under his swollen eyelids came a look of peacefulness and love, together with the physical weariness and pain. I spoke only these words to him;
“Yeshua, I have been ordered to assist you, and I will do so to ease your suffering”
He slowly nodded his head, and I put my head under one side of the crossbeam, with my arms over the top, and together, we both pushed up with our knees. The crossbeam felt heavy against my shoulder. All of a sudden, the pain hit me again. I remembered so many years ago when I was helping a fellow merchant to lift a cart. I had hurt my shoulder and I had been in so much pain ever since. Lifting things would bring on this pain.
Yeshua seemed to have sensed that I was in pain. I looked at his peaceful face and said;
“It’s the pain, I hurt my shoulder many years ago”
Then Yeshua did something that to my dying day I’ll never forget. He stretched forth his hand and ever so gently, touched mine squeezing it softly. Suddenly, strength and power surged through my arms, back, neck and entire body. The pain in my shoulder vanished. I lifted up the crossbeam without any pain whatsoever.
I looked at Yeshua amazed. This man, Yeshua, had healed me. This Yeshua was more than just a man. Could he really be the Messiah of Israel that the prophets spoke of?
Together, we walked slowly down the street, the other two criminals were ahead of us. The crowd was full of mixed emotions. Some shouting and cursing, others weeping and beating their breasts, pleading for mercy. We went through one of the city’s gates. We followed the road out of the city, towards a hill that resembled a skull.
Some of the crowd began to disperse, others followed our gruesome procession up the hill. Up and up the hill we went. The crowd was now sparse, with now only a few men and women. Some of the religious leaders were following behind. The Roman soldiers were also there, barking orders one to another. I looked up into the sky. In a few hours, the Passover lambs would be slaughtered.
This time, instead stead of being a joyous occasion, it would be a Passover of sadness, of grief, of a righteous man being condemned to death. It just didn’t make any sense to me. All I knew was that I was there to help this man named Yeshua and to help him bear this cross that he would soon embrace to meet the arms of death.
We finally reached the top of the hill. A roman soldier directed us to a spot in front of a long pole, which would be the center beam for the piece we were carrying. He ordered me to drop it. I let go and the piece fell to the ground and Yeshua falling right next to it.
The Roman soldier then pushed me away and proceeded to lift the cross beam and nail it to the center pole using four long iron nails. What followed would be something I’d never forget, the image still etched into my memory. It was an image of Intense suffering, pain, cruelty, and just plain madness. Two Roman soldiers grabbed Yeshua by his arms and dragged him over to the cross. They then threw him down between the two crossed pieces of roughly hewn wood. They then proceeded to stretch out his arms across the crossbeam.
One of the soldiers held Yeshua’s arm to the crossbeam as the other grabbed a mallet and a thick, long, spike nail. The nail seemed to be a handspan in length and as thick as a middle finger. He then placed the nail on Yeshua’s wrist and proceeded to bring the mallet down on the nail.
The nail penetrated flesh and muscle quickly and held fast to the roughly hewn wood. Blood poured out of the wounds and dripped onto the ground. But what amazed me more were the words that proceeded from Yeshua’s lips;
“Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”
One would expect curses and not words of forgiveness to proceed from the mouth of a condemned man, but Yeshua was not just an ordinary man. I’d like to think that what the old man told me was true, he indeed was the Messiah that all Israel hoped would come, to free this nation from this wretched Roman rule.
But then, if he is the Messiah, then why allow all this to happen? He could have prevented it. Was there something I didn’t understand? A detail overlooked? A word of prophecy that the Torah teachers failed to mention?
I watched now as the Roman soldiers took hold of the cross, pushing and pulling it upright, and then dropped it into a hole in the ground. I gazed once more at this Yeshua who was now suspended between heaven and earth, by two nails through his wrists and feet held fast to a block of wood.
This Roman cross of suffering and affliction now stood erect with the beaten and bloodied body of Yeshua, who spoke not a curse, but words of forgiveness. Could he indeed be this long hoped for Messiah of Israel?
I could not bear to watch any longer. I could no longer help him or do anything for him, so I started back down the hill. I turned to look once more. I saw a woman and a man by the cross, and Yeshua was looking down at them. He seemed to be talking to them. I wanted to stay, but my feelings of anger and grief were too much to bear. Anger toward this cruel Roman rule and injustice, and grief for this Yeshua who deserved none of this.
Then he looked toward me, just for a brief moment, I felt something in my heart, which penetrated into the depth of my soul. I felt his thoughts which were saying; “thank you for showing me compassion, and for helping me with my burden. This burden I carry is for the whole world.”
I then saw one of the criminals that were nailed to a cross beside him, say something to him. Yeshua turned and spoke some soft words to this man, I saw this criminal smile, in spite of the pain and agony. The words that Yeshua spoke also penetrated his heart and soul.
My eyes welled up with tears, I couldn’t stand by any longer and see this suffering. I continued to walk back down the hill. I no longer wished to look back, but only to leave the city and leave behind me this scene of hate and pain, of suffering and grief.
I reached the inn where I was staying at. I paid the innkeeper a few shekels of silver, then took the donkey and cart and headed north to Caesarea where I would continue on my journey. I just wanted to get away from this city, which now, only brought violence and hate to its Passover feast.
As I traveled northward, I noticed that the sky was turning dark, thick black clouds hid the sun from view. It was a strange feeling. A day turned like night. This had never happened. Even the donkey acted strangely. It stopped suddenly and started to bray, stomping the ground kicking up a cloud of dust.
I do not remember how long I stood there in the road. With the donkey, the cart, and all my wares, trying to figure out these strange events. I felt bewildered, a bit confused. Who was this Yeshua really? Messiah? God who became a man? A man connected to God in a way I could not understand?
Suddenly, I felt a rumble, from under the earth which grew louder. The ground under my feet began to shake. I heard a clap of thunder and saw a bolt of lightning that lit up the sky for one brief moment.
The sun then came out from behind the clouds and began to set toward the west. I turned once more to look towards the east, to gaze upon the city of Jerusalem, the Daughter of Zion, who murdered the prophets, whose inhabitants lay within the iron grasp of the Eagle of Rome.
I am telling these events the way I remember them. My name is Simon, a merchant from the city of Cyrene. This story is a legacy I have left to my two sons, Alexander and Rufus, who, like me, now follow in the footsteps of our Messiah, Yeshua.
By Rabbi Ben Abraham (from eBook "God Tales")
“Yeshua, I have been ordered to assist you, and I will do so to ease your suffering”
He slowly nodded his head, and I put my head under one side of the crossbeam, with my arms over the top, and together, we both pushed up with our knees. The crossbeam felt heavy against my shoulder. All of a sudden, the pain hit me again. I remembered so many years ago when I was helping a fellow merchant to lift a cart. I had hurt my shoulder and I had been in so much pain ever since. Lifting things would bring on this pain.
Yeshua seemed to have sensed that I was in pain. I looked at his peaceful face and said;
“It’s the pain, I hurt my shoulder many years ago”
Then Yeshua did something that to my dying day I’ll never forget. He stretched forth his hand and ever so gently, touched mine squeezing it softly. Suddenly, strength and power surged through my arms, back, neck and entire body. The pain in my shoulder vanished. I lifted up the crossbeam without any pain whatsoever.
I looked at Yeshua amazed. This man, Yeshua, had healed me. This Yeshua was more than just a man. Could he really be the Messiah of Israel that the prophets spoke of?
Together, we walked slowly down the street, the other two criminals were ahead of us. The crowd was full of mixed emotions. Some shouting and cursing, others weeping and beating their breasts, pleading for mercy. We went through one of the city’s gates. We followed the road out of the city, towards a hill that resembled a skull.
Some of the crowd began to disperse, others followed our gruesome procession up the hill. Up and up the hill we went. The crowd was now sparse, with now only a few men and women. Some of the religious leaders were following behind. The Roman soldiers were also there, barking orders one to another. I looked up into the sky. In a few hours, the Passover lambs would be slaughtered.
This time, instead stead of being a joyous occasion, it would be a Passover of sadness, of grief, of a righteous man being condemned to death. It just didn’t make any sense to me. All I knew was that I was there to help this man named Yeshua and to help him bear this cross that he would soon embrace to meet the arms of death.
We finally reached the top of the hill. A roman soldier directed us to a spot in front of a long pole, which would be the center beam for the piece we were carrying. He ordered me to drop it. I let go and the piece fell to the ground and Yeshua falling right next to it.
The Roman soldier then pushed me away and proceeded to lift the cross beam and nail it to the center pole using four long iron nails. What followed would be something I’d never forget, the image still etched into my memory. It was an image of Intense suffering, pain, cruelty, and just plain madness. Two Roman soldiers grabbed Yeshua by his arms and dragged him over to the cross. They then threw him down between the two crossed pieces of roughly hewn wood. They then proceeded to stretch out his arms across the crossbeam.
One of the soldiers held Yeshua’s arm to the crossbeam as the other grabbed a mallet and a thick, long, spike nail. The nail seemed to be a handspan in length and as thick as a middle finger. He then placed the nail on Yeshua’s wrist and proceeded to bring the mallet down on the nail.
The nail penetrated flesh and muscle quickly and held fast to the roughly hewn wood. Blood poured out of the wounds and dripped onto the ground. But what amazed me more were the words that proceeded from Yeshua’s lips;
“Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”
One would expect curses and not words of forgiveness to proceed from the mouth of a condemned man, but Yeshua was not just an ordinary man. I’d like to think that what the old man told me was true, he indeed was the Messiah that all Israel hoped would come, to free this nation from this wretched Roman rule.
But then, if he is the Messiah, then why allow all this to happen? He could have prevented it. Was there something I didn’t understand? A detail overlooked? A word of prophecy that the Torah teachers failed to mention?
I watched now as the Roman soldiers took hold of the cross, pushing and pulling it upright, and then dropped it into a hole in the ground. I gazed once more at this Yeshua who was now suspended between heaven and earth, by two nails through his wrists and feet held fast to a block of wood.
This Roman cross of suffering and affliction now stood erect with the beaten and bloodied body of Yeshua, who spoke not a curse, but words of forgiveness. Could he indeed be this long hoped for Messiah of Israel?
I could not bear to watch any longer. I could no longer help him or do anything for him, so I started back down the hill. I turned to look once more. I saw a woman and a man by the cross, and Yeshua was looking down at them. He seemed to be talking to them. I wanted to stay, but my feelings of anger and grief were too much to bear. Anger toward this cruel Roman rule and injustice, and grief for this Yeshua who deserved none of this.
Then he looked toward me, just for a brief moment, I felt something in my heart, which penetrated into the depth of my soul. I felt his thoughts which were saying; “thank you for showing me compassion, and for helping me with my burden. This burden I carry is for the whole world.”
I then saw one of the criminals that were nailed to a cross beside him, say something to him. Yeshua turned and spoke some soft words to this man, I saw this criminal smile, in spite of the pain and agony. The words that Yeshua spoke also penetrated his heart and soul.
My eyes welled up with tears, I couldn’t stand by any longer and see this suffering. I continued to walk back down the hill. I no longer wished to look back, but only to leave the city and leave behind me this scene of hate and pain, of suffering and grief.
I reached the inn where I was staying at. I paid the innkeeper a few shekels of silver, then took the donkey and cart and headed north to Caesarea where I would continue on my journey. I just wanted to get away from this city, which now, only brought violence and hate to its Passover feast.
As I traveled northward, I noticed that the sky was turning dark, thick black clouds hid the sun from view. It was a strange feeling. A day turned like night. This had never happened. Even the donkey acted strangely. It stopped suddenly and started to bray, stomping the ground kicking up a cloud of dust.
I do not remember how long I stood there in the road. With the donkey, the cart, and all my wares, trying to figure out these strange events. I felt bewildered, a bit confused. Who was this Yeshua really? Messiah? God who became a man? A man connected to God in a way I could not understand?
Suddenly, I felt a rumble, from under the earth which grew louder. The ground under my feet began to shake. I heard a clap of thunder and saw a bolt of lightning that lit up the sky for one brief moment.
The sun then came out from behind the clouds and began to set toward the west. I turned once more to look towards the east, to gaze upon the city of Jerusalem, the Daughter of Zion, who murdered the prophets, whose inhabitants lay within the iron grasp of the Eagle of Rome.
I am telling these events the way I remember them. My name is Simon, a merchant from the city of Cyrene. This story is a legacy I have left to my two sons, Alexander and Rufus, who, like me, now follow in the footsteps of our Messiah, Yeshua.
By Rabbi Ben Abraham (from eBook "God Tales")
