By His Wounds: The Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ

Jesus Before Pilate

How does my Pilate seem to you guys? For me, I picture Pilate as a nice Roman man, who honestly didn't want to hurt Jesus at all. He didn't even want him to be scourged. Yet he had to in order to save his throne. I believe Pilate to be nice, and I hope that when I die and am in Heaven with Jesus, Pilate will be there :) Reviews?

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Jesus Before Pilate

Seated upon a donkey, Jesus was led through the town of Jerusalem five days before his Passion. The people came running down mountains and streets, carrying palm branches and blankets, for which they then laid them on the ground. One person started singing, and then the rest followed, chanting:

"Hosana to the Son of David!"

"Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!"

"Hosanna in the highest Heaven!"

Jesus waved and smiled, his heart filled with such joy as never before. This is how it was in Heaven—always happy, everyone singing and shouting words of praise. Each Apostle cheered alongside Jesus and sang, even Judas.

Stripped from all save his under garments, Jesus was led down Mount Sion, passed the eastern side of the Temple, and towards the palace of Pilate. This way was similar to the path Jesus had taken only five days earlier, when the people had called out praises. How only five days can change everything. How in only five days everyone went from honoring him to condemning him to death.

As Jesus was forced towards the palace of Pilate, the soldiers and mob threw rocks, thorns, sticks, and dirty rags for him to walk on. They yelled, "Blessed is the blasphemer! Hosanna is the lowest of Devils!"

Mary cast her eyes upon her baby boy, walking there a few yards away from her. The entire Sanhedrin surrounded him, as did the angry mob. Those evil people showed him no mercy, what with their continuous beatings and mockings.

Wearing hardly nothing, Mary knew he had to be cold with the chill from the morning. The sun had yet to come over the hill, and there was a fresh dew spread over everything metal. In the slightly gray atmosphere, Jesus' skin coloration glowed white compared to the tan bodies enveloping him. From a distance, Mary could see the dark red blood that had dried to a crusty liquid down the side of his face, starting at his crown. In instinct, her Son turned, spotting her as if he knew she had been standing there the entire time. His beautiful nose was crooked, as if broken, and his one eye was swollen and discolored even worse than the first time Mary had seen it. Barely able to stand, Jesus bowed over his body like a question mark. The chains around his neck had rubbed his skin raw, as had the ropes digging into his wrists.

When the two met eye to eye, flashbacks of that night thirty-three years ago came to mind. Thirty-three years ago Mary lay in a stable, the pains of child labor bearing down on her. Then: The glorious moment. The moment when the Son of God became flesh and was cradled in her very arms. She had watched God grow up; watched him take his first steps, read out of his first book, and stay side-by-side along her now-deceased husband Joseph while they worked together in the carpentry business. How she loved to watch them work together. It took some time, but within his seventh year Jesus was constructing work presentable enough to be sold right with Joseph's. By his twelfth, Jesus' work was almost better than Joseph's. They repaired roofs and houses, but Jesus enjoyed creating tables, chairs, and glorious carvings more. When Joseph had died, Jesus not only took care of her, Mary, but also took over the entire carpentry business.

After thirty years of staying home in Nazareth, Jesus decided it was time to spread his ministry and begin "making disciples of all nations." With a kiss farewell, Jesus walked off, away from Nazareth, with a smile. Mary had missed him dearly, yet she knew that was his purpose for coming to the world.