Were you there?

Reprint from Èaster 2014 Hattiesburg American Article

Were you there when they crucified my Lord?

I stand in a long line of men. Men dedicated to the memory of a sacrifice that was made for us so many years ago. I walk silently with my thoughts in this humbling processional recognizing that I am not worthy of such a sacrifice. Slowly I make my way closer to the front of the line. I knowingly nod at my brothers as they serve their time in humility and work their way back to the end of the line until it is their time to serve again. The closer I get to the front of this line the less I hear things around me. The sound of nature occasionally interrupted by mechanized creatures rolling past occasionally offering a blast of support. All of which becomes a blur the closer I get to the front of the line. 

Were you there when they crucified my Lord?

The line pauses as each of my brothers takes his turn under the weight. Each not knowing what to expect. Emotions overwhelm each of us as we recognize the enormity of what we do. Finally it is my turn. I have arrived at the front of the line and the cross is lifted and placed on my shoulders. As the heft of the cross surprises me I begin to take my steps. One foot in front of the other. My pace is quick as I strive to show those who may be watching that I can handle the weight and not break stride. Then the true weight hits me like a cat of nine tails. I am not carrying 200 pounds on my shoulders. I am carrying the weight of what my Lord and savior did for me.

Sometimes it causes me to tremble.

My knees get weak and the tears well in my eyes. All outside distractions are washed away by the sound of the wood slowly scraping across the ground. I cannot raise my eyes from the shadow I see of the cross on my shoulder. I am no longer with my brothers. I am alone. Just me and my Lord. And it is very humbling. I am left alone to my thoughts and they overwhelm me.

Tremble

Less than 100 yards later I feel a tap on my back as another brother steps forward and takes the weight from my shoulder – but not my heart. I stand and let the line of men walk past me. These are saints and sinners just like me. Each of us is undergoing a humbling experience.

Were you there when they crucified my Lord?

The journey ends and for another 365 days we can lean the cross against a wall and pay it homage once a week. This humbling experience is at an end and yet it was nothing like the original experience down the Via Dolorosa. While families waited for our arrival at the church with loving embraces, a different fate awaited the one who took up the cross for me. I long for the day when I can thank Him personally that I didn’t have to bear the burden every day.