Redemption at the Eleventh Hour

by Andrew Crown

  The callousness of the Romans was unbearable. He had just wanted to see Leah one last time! Could this brute with a whip grant him this simple request before he died? With a heavy heart, Dismas pushed on.

  The procession moved towards a gentle slope in the road that rose between houses on either side. Dismas was still scanning the crowd for Leah when he heard a thud up ahead. Jesus had collapsed under the weight of the cross. His guards immediately began to crack their whips to motivate Him back on His feet.

  Despite his own suffering, Dismas could not contain his rage. “Stop, you fools!” he called out to the Roman soldiers. “He will never get up if you beat Him like that! He’s exhausted!”

  Surprisingly, the Romans seemed to heed his words and stopped their whipping. Jeers mixed with calls for mercy sounded from the crowd on either side of the road. Miraculously, Jesus stood under His own power, picked up the cross, rested it against His shoulder, and continued up the slope with a deliberate gait.

  A centurion made his way to the front of the column and called out, “What’s the problem here?”

  Dismas recognized that voice and his rage intensified to a white-hot fury. Before the Roman officer could reach Jesus, Dismas mustered what little saliva he could in his dehydrated state and tried to spit on the man as he walked past. His mouth was like dry cotton and so he had to resort to screaming.

  “Bricius!” Dismas began to throw down his cross and was instantly met with two lashes which caused him to reconsider.

  Bricius looked at Dismas and smiled, his stained teeth prominently displayed.

  “Dismas! I am happy to see you in so much pain.”

  He then turned towards his subordinate soldiers and pointed at Dismas. “When we get to Golgotha, I want to personally drive the nails into this one.” The soldiers gave their affirmation of the order as Bricius stepped aside for Dismas and Gestas to drag their crosses past him.

  Bricius called out as he passed, “It won’t be long now, Dismas. It won’t be long now.”

  The column of condemned men and the soldiers guarding them drew close to the main gate of the city. The crowd multiplied as all of Jerusalem now knew that the one that they hailed as the King of the Jews was on His way to die.

  Dismas ignored the wood pressing against his collarbone, the blood trickling down his back, the sweat stinging his eyes, and the thirst closing his throat. He instead frantically searched the faces of the crowd.

  “Leah…Leah… Leah…” he muttered to himself. The prospect of seeing her again was his only comfort.

  He thought he caught a glimpse of her here and there. Was that her by the well? No, it was another young girl. Was she standing with Asher just on the other side of the soldiers holding back the crowd? No, his tired eyes played tricks on him in this desperate situation.

  He was snapped back into reality by another sudden crash of wood hitting the stone street. Jesus had fallen a second time. Nearby, Bricius sighed.

  “No more delays! It is too hot to be taking this long on the road. You there!” Bricius pointed at the closest man in the crowd of townspeople, who looked frightened by a Roman centurion singling him out.

  “Yes, you! Grab His cross and carry it for Him.” The man froze.

  “You won’t be executed, you dumb Jew. Just grab His cross!”

  The fear of non-compliance finally forced the man forward and he picked up the cross from the struggling Jesus. No longer burdened, Jesus slowly came to His feet and followed the man. The blood from His body was imprinted on the cobblestone where He had fallen.

  The man carrying the cross for Jesus hastened the progress of the whole procession, and soon they were summiting the small hill outside of town called Golgotha—“the place of the skull”. Vultures, accustomed to the activities on this hill, circled overhead when they saw a crowd forming. They could sense that their next meal was near.

  The exhaustion from the march was overwhelming for Dismas. “Leah! I want Leah.”

  “Shut up, thief! We will be done with you soon,” a Roman guard spat.

  With one final heave, Dismas had reached the top of the hill.

  “Drop your crosses!”

  Tribune Magnus gave the order as the overseer of the executions. Dismas let the cross slide off his shoulder and fall onto the dirt with a thud.

  The condemned men stood in a line just as they had in front of Pontius Pilate—Jesus in the middle, Dismas to His right, and Gestas to His left. Dismas closed his eyes and began to tremble at what he knew came next. One of the vultures above him let out an excited squawk.

  Chapter XXIV

  “Strip them down!” Magnus’ voice rose above the loud wailing of the crowd forming around the crosses. Instantly, Dismas felt a pair of hands at his back and most of his bloody garments were stripped away. The men were granted the decency of having some fabric left around their loin area, a small comfort.

  Roman soldiers adjusted the crosses so they lay directly behind holes dug in the ground where the base would be set. Then the prisoners were harshly shoved down on top of the wooden beams, their arms outstretched. Thick rope was lashed around Dismas’ wrists and ankles, affixing him to the cross. The rope would keep him secure as he hung vertically. If only nails alone were used, the men’s hands and feet would tear from the wood and they would fall from the cross.

  The tight ropes cut into his skin and Dismas began to shake uncontrollably. Bricius stood over him and reached down to pat Dismas’ cheek mockingly.

  “This is going to hurt.” He held up several long nails and a hammer in front of Dismas’ face. Dismas involuntarily bit down on his lower lip. This was really it.

  A loud cry of anguish was heard and a hush fell the crowd. The nailing had already started with Gestas. With each blow of the hammer, the nail was driven deeper into the condemned man’s hands and feet. Gestas screamed unceasingly, but unlike his wild cries of anger, these were the cries of a man in intense pain. His continuous wailing caused many in the crowd to cover their ears.

  Dismas closed his eyes and muttered a short prayer. “God help me…”

  He could feel Bricius aligning the nail in the middle of his left palm as Dismas tried to block out the fear of the upcoming agony. He could hear the sound of the nails being driven through Jesus as well. A man that had given hope and peace to so many was now being killed for committing no crime. Unlike Gestas, however, Jesus did not cry out.

  CLANG! Dismas immediately felt an intense sensation in his left palm as the nail penetrated his skin. Dismas yelled in agony as a second blow from the hammer drove the nail deeper. CLANG! Another scream. Bricius’ grinning face was splattered with Dismas’ blood that shot out with each blow. With another strike of the hammer, the nail was driven still deeper into his palm. CLANG! Bone began to shatter as the nail pierced through the hand and into the wood of the cross.

  “Stop it!” Dismas called out. But his efforts were futile. Bricius enthusiastically continued his hammering.

  “‘Stop it,’ he says,” Bricius mocked him along with the other soldiers.

  Dismas grew lightheaded. He could still hear the screams of Gestas and the murmuring of the crowd, but they seemed distant to him. Bricius moved on to his right hand and with a few strong blows to the nail in it, Dismas was affixed to the cross. Blood ran down the wooden beams and onto the dirt in a steady flow.

  His feet were likewise nailed with one foot on top of the other and into the cross with one long spike. Dismas screamed as Gestas had as the final nail secured him to the cross. Bricius maintained his sadistic smile as he saw the blood flow from Dismas’ feet and heard his cries of pain. He felt a perverse sense of justice to see the thief suffering.

  Most of the crowd was gathered around the center cross which bore Jesus, who let out only brief exclamations of pain with each hammer blow. Otherwise, He handled His fate with a relatively calm resolution.

  Once the men were affixed, the crosses were hoisted up by the Roman soldiers, with Jesus’ being slightly more d
ifficult to lift given the JESUS OF NAZARETH, THE KING OF THE JEWS sign fastened to the top as a final mockery. A series of three thuds caused gasps from the crowd as each cross slipped into a pre-dug hole in the ground. The soldiers hurriedly stacked rocks on all sides of the base to hold the swaying crosses in place before sitting down. They now simply had to pass the time while they waited for the men to die.

  The crucified men were in excruciating pain. In addition to the holes nailed into his body, Dismas could barely breathe. He tried to adjust his position to get some air in his lungs, which were on fire. With great pain and effort, he pulled himself up by his nails and temporarily felt the cool rush of air. Soon, however, his limbs burned, and he could only hold that position for a few seconds before he dropped down, hanging limply once again. He slumped there for a moment until the need for oxygen prompted him to raise himself up again. This cycle between suffocation and incredible pain in his limbs continued endlessly. Dismas knew eventually he would not be able to lift himself up anymore and he would slowly suffocate, though he didn’t know how many hours that would take.

  He was able to survey the crowd around Jesus. Weeping women reached out to try to touch His bleeding feet, but their hands were swatted away by the guards. Men stood further back shaking their heads helplessly. Dismas thought he recognized some of Jesus’ disciples among them. Dismas and Gestas were largely ignored by the onlookers. The fate of common criminals was of no importance to the gathered multitude.

  Gestas let out a cry of agony and Dismas followed suit. Jesus, with blood dripping from His crown of thorns, continued to endure His suffering much less vocally.

  While a few guards kept the crowd away from Jesus, the majority of soldiers were seated on the ground and began to gamble for His robes. Bricius’ laughter was coarse and cruel as he rolled the dice. Tribune Magnus looked on disapprovingly but did not stop them. Everything about this execution was unusual. Magnus had never had to deal with a crowd of this size. Normally, criminals executed in Jerusalem or at the castrum hardly drew any notice from the townspeople. This crucifixion was like a public spectacle. If gambling helped his men keep their edge in this situation, Magnus reasoned, he would allow them their vice.

  An older woman wept and called out to Jesus. She was comforted by a man with his arm around her, whom Dismas recognized as one of the disciples. Jesus looked down on them.

  “Woman, behold your son!” He said softly from the cross. This caused His mother to weep even harder. Jesus then looked at the man. “Behold your mother!”

  Despite the intense pain, Dismas was amazed at Jesus’ serenity and His ability to converse.

  Seeing Jesus’ relative tranquility, Gestas turned his scarred head towards Him and called out mockingly, “If you are the Christ, save Yourself and us.”

  A feeling of anger and sorrow filled Dismas to the point that he almost forgot about his own dire circumstances. He had to say something, even if it meant fighting through the suffocation.

  He drew a deep breath and called out to Gestas. “Do you not even fear God, seeing you are under the same condemnation?”

  Both Jesus and Gestas turned towards him.

  Dismas continued, “And we indeed justly, for we receive the due rewards of our deeds; but this Man has done nothing wrong.”

  At this Gestas gave no reply but sank down and continued to scream in agony. Dismas then looked at Jesus and forced out, barely more audible than a whisper, “Lord, remember me when You come into Your Kingdom.”

  Jesus’ face was serene, and despite the blood, His presence still gave Dismas a sense of peace as He did before He fed the multitude.

  “Assuredly, I say to you, today you will be with Me in Paradise.”

  A wave of warmth washed over Dismas and his pain was temporarily dulled. Knowing he was going to be joining Jesus, he was no longer afraid of his impending death. He knew with his invitation to Paradise that everything would be alright, even as the blood and breath escaped his body.

  A few weeks ago, he did not believe at all, and now these words from Jesus were utterly comforting. He closed his eyes and was thankful to God for this change in his heart. Dismas knew he was forgiven. For all the pain he caused in others, he was still forgiven. Besides his desire to see Leah one last time, forgiveness was all that he could hope to achieve in the dwindling moments of his life.

  People who have done terrible deeds can still receive redemption at the eleventh hour. Peter’s words came rushing back to him as he gasped for more air. Yes, Dismas thought as the cool air filled his burning lungs, even me.

  The men hung on the crosses for several more hours as the sun moved higher in the sky. The crowd remained transfixed. Those who had jested and mocked Jesus had largely departed, leaving mostly His supporters at the foot of the cross. There were still dozens upon dozens of people there.

  Jesus, the quietest of the three dying men, suddenly called out unexpectedly. His sharp and clear voice made the Roman guards stop what they were doing and turn towards Him.

  “Father, forgive them! For they know not what they do!”

  Even in pain, He still had capacity for forgiveness, Dismas marveled. It was extraordinary to witness.

  Jesus’ chest heaved and He let out a gasp for air. He then uttered with pain in His voice, “Father, into Your hands I commit My spirit.”

  A loud wail from some women in the crowd followed as His head dipped low and His breathing became more labored.

  Despite being a clear day, clouds began to move in quickly and within a minute they turned the sky dark as if a sudden storm was coming. The wind likewise grew fierce, increasing from a gentle breeze to a strong gale as soon as the words escaped Jesus’ lips.

  As Jesus’ chest heaved violently, the crowd of Roman soldiers and onlookers began to grow afraid. The weather was changing rapidly, and darkness descended as if dusk was approaching. There was somehow a connection between these events and Jesus which no one present truly understood.

  Jesus suddenly lifted His head up and called out clearly one final time, “It is finished.” Then His head sank down and became still.

  At that moment, a crack of thunder shook the ground, eliciting frightened cries from the crowd. This was followed immediately by another thunder crack and sheets of rain. The wind intensified and only with great difficulty could people remain on their feet. The sky grew pitch black as if it was a moonless night even though it was only just past midday. The Earth shook violently as a tremor moved through the ground.

  Dismas shut his eyes from the wind and the rain. His cross, still secured by rocks at its base, shook back and forth. He could hear screams from the people at his feet and the Roman guards as many fell on the ground, from either the tremor or their own fear.

  Magnus, holding himself steady on a rock and shouting to be heard over the wind and the rain, commented, “Surely, this was the Son of God!”

  Yes, Dismas thought. And now He is dead.

  Bricius, eyes wide with fright, covered his ears with his hands and dropped to his knees. In all of his years of service to the Roman military, he had never seen anything that caused him to lose courage as much as this phenomenon. Dismas opened his eyes for a moment and looked down on him with pity. For where peace filled Dismas, Bricius was overcome with fear.

  The sheets of rain that descended washed Dismas’ blood from his body as his cross continued to shake with the wind and the tremors. He knew that he would die soon, following the path of Jesus. Despite the cries of panic around him, he felt serenity and comfort. He closed his eyes and let the sheets of rain wash away his blood, guilt, and fear.

  Chapter XXV

  The darkness and storm dissipated as suddenly as it started. The afternoon sun shone through the vanishing clouds and illuminated a stunned crowd around the lifeless Jesus. The silence was only punctuated by groans from Gestas and Dismas.

  Cassian, Bricius’ young subordinate, rode up to the Tribune, who was still leaning against the rock. Cassian had come from the
city accompanied by an older, distinguished looking man who sported a long white beard. He saluted his commander.

  “Tribune Magnus, the governor has given this man, Joseph of Arimathea, permission to take Jesus’ body for burial.”

  He handed Magnus a scroll with the official edict from Pilate, running a hand through his hair to wipe away the excess water from the storm.

  Magnus nodded as he read through Pilate’s words.

  “Help take down His body,” he said to three Roman soldiers standing nearby. The three, with Joseph’s help, used a ladder to bring Jesus down from the cross. Still shaken from what they had just experienced, the soldiers used extra care in removing the nails and lowered Him reverently into Joseph’s arms.

  Joseph took the body, wrapped it in a white cloth and carefully laid it in a small cart hitched to his horse. The crying women, Jesus’ disciples, and most of the crowd formed a circle around the wrapped body and bowed their heads. They shuffled behind the cart and followed Joseph as he grabbed the reins and set his horse in motion down the road, carrying Jesus’ dead body off into the horizon.

  Those in the crowd who did not follow Joseph went back to the city, struggling to mentally process what they had just witnessed. They murmured among themselves asking for help to corroborate what had taken place.

  Those remaining at Golgotha were the two dying men still nailed on their crosses and the contingent of Roman soldiers. Magnus wiped sweat from his brow with a cloth.

  “This has been a remarkable day and I think it is past time for us to leave this place,” he said to his men.

  He looked up at the two prisoners still struggling for breath. His experience in overseeing executions told him that they wouldn’t last much longer. They were growing quite weak and had lost much blood. The merciful thing to do at this point was to end their lives quickly.

  “Bricius, take a rod and break their legs. It is time to end their suffering. Be quick about it and meet us back at the palace. We’ll keep their bodies on display overnight and then I’ll send Cassian around at first light with a burial party to dispose of them.”