A lone soldier, his clothing covered with the dust of service, threads his way through the crooked avenues. He passes an occasional woman seeking water for the morning meal. The bleached mud-stone dwellings seem unmindful of his urgency. In his own mind, his breathless pounding heart should rouse the entire city. Yet most of the city sleeps on, ignorant of the cosmic issues being played out beyond its walls.

The soldier approaches the palatial residence of Judea’s procurator. The sentry, his eyes weary from the never-ending night, is jolted by the soldier’s unexpected approach. [Pause]

This morning, early, old Pilate was alone in his chamber. I came running when I heard him violently cursing out loud. But when I got to him he had laid his head on the bench, his hands were in his tangled hair. Cries and sobs were shaking his whole body. His wife came in with some delicacies and a rhyon of wine. He refused her with a curse. Bartus, I think he has lost his mind!

Your honor, attention! Bartus, centurion of the tenth legion, on duty as overseer of the crucifixion of Joshua Bar Joseph of Nazareth, to see the Most Honorable and Reverend, Pontius Pilate, Prefect of Judea.

Spare my men! We have failed! We are guilty of death! But this was not their fault, they could do nothing. Take me Pontius! I’ll take the blame. But spare them! They are guiltless.

But tell me about the fiasco. Tell me all! Those old puffers, hated hypocrites, power hungry beasts, they have harassed me all weekend. First they said, "Crucify Him!" then, "Change the guard," then, "Seal the tomb!" They knew he was no usual person.

Tell me all, Bartus, and by the powers of Hercules, leave out no detail. Start where you flogged Him by the gate of the tower of Antonia. That’s where I last saw Him.

Septervius! What is that commotion out there? The old puffers again? May Artemius curse them and all their offspring. Tell them that I am busy. Tell them to go home. Tell them to stay there. I never want to see them again!

Now, Bartus, tell me all!

Oh! There was so much that was strange about Him. . . by the flames of Hades, Bartus, tell me all!

This man Joshua folded His hands behind him and without resistance or a complaint staggered down the Golgotha Path. Those two thieves fought every step of the way.

We placed the beam and tied his arms to it. We nailed him fast. Unlike the others who cursed their executioners, this man closed His eyes and murmured what seemed like a prayer, "Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do." It was unreal, beyond any human possibility—to pray there amidst the shouts, the jeers, the pain. And how could he pray for us. I stood in position as is decreed by the law as the cross was lifted and dropped into place. He looked at me. His face was bathed with the sweat of death. His soft expressive eyes showed pain but beamed love. In that moment I wanted to order him freed…

Now I know! He was no criminal! He was no sinner! I stood at the foot of the cross and looked away, ashamed, me, a sinner—He, a sinless man, crucified!

Time seemed to stand still as he hung there in silent agony. About the sixth hour, when the sun reached the zenith it suddenly became pitch dark at Golgotha.

One of the thieves began to revile Him for His silence, but the other thief cried, "Speak not! We are thieves and guilty. This man has done no wrong." Hope was mingled with anguish as that helpless dying wretch cast himself on the dying Promised One. "Lord, remember me," he cried, "when thou comest into they kingdom."

The bystanders caught the words of the thief. The pur players stopped and listened.

His answer came instantly in a soft and melodious tone, full of love, compassion and power. "Right now I say to you, thou shalt be with me in paradise." As Joshua Bar Joseph spoke the words of promise, the dark cloud that enshrouded the cross was pierced by a bright and living light. And while the light lasted, He fixed His eyes on a man who supported a weeping, heart-broken woman, and spoke again. "Woman, behold thy son," and to him, "Take care of my mother!"

Suddenly the storm broke. It became black as sackcloth. Lightning crackled in the cloud that enveloped the crosses. The rain fell in torrents. The earth reeled and shook. Sepulchers along the valley cracked open. The earth heaved. The wind roared. The dogs howled.

The wind blew furiously from the southeast. The sulfurous fumes were choking. Later I heard men telling that the Salt Sea was boiling like a cooking pot, and the water had dropped thirty cubits. People were fleeing the area as they could not stand the fumes. At Ein Gedi the perfumery was shut down and not a person is there, even yet. Qumran is vacated. The trees in Jericho are blighted as with a killing frost.

Around the crosses no one spoke. We were gripped by an indescribable terror. Some whispered that it was God’s wrath falling on us—that the end of the world had come.

At the ninth hour the sun suddenly burst forth, but the cross remained completely enveloped in an impenetrable cloud of blackness, and out of that blackness came the cry, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken Me?" His voice was filled with the agony of despair. Some of the priests thought he was calling Elias to come and save him.

When he said, "I thirst," one of the soldiers out of pity offered him vinegar from a sponge. And would you believe it, those heartless priests condemned that act!

I looked towards the temple. Lightning bolts from a black cloud seemed to be stabbing the Holy Place. It was as if God’s wrath was directed towards Mt. Zion and the city.

Suddenly the clouds lifted from the cross. With a mighty surge of strength He cried victoriously, "It is finished, Abba, into thy hands I commend my life and breath." And He bowed His head and died.

Never have I witnessed such a scene! It was pitch black, a hoarse rumbling sounded. Lightning crashed and the thunder rolled. There was a mighty earthquake. The people were shaken together in a heap. The pious old touch-me-nots lay clinging to my legionnaires. The wildest confusion ensued. I could hear rocks crashing down from the mountains and rolling into the valleys. All of us, priests, rulers, soldiers, and commoners, lay prostrate on the ground in terror.

Pontius, we killed GOD! . . . [pause]

The Jewish leaders, old foggy-woggies that they are--you should have seen them purifying themselves after being in the heap with my soldiers. Cleansing their bodies from supposed contamination while they were guilty of killing the King of the Jews--Huh! I say. But there are a couple of them that I respect—Joseph and Nicodemous.

After I received your orders to let Joe and Old Nick, as my men dubbed them, have the body, those two old, dignified gentlemen—they were priests, Pharisees too—carefully took the body down, wrapped it in a linen cloth, and put it in the newly made tomb right there beside the quarry. They seemed to have forgotten their silly laws about touching dead bodies and defilement—and during the Feast of Egypt too! Anyhow, as they worked with their own hands to inter the body, the rest of the pious old frauds reviled them, cursed them, and threatened them. But they paid no attention whatsoever. Together they just gently laid the body on the shelf in the tomb.

The sun, which seemed to have been acting strangely all day, was just going down as they removed the blocking and let the stone door roll down, covering the entrance. Why, that stone weighed hundreds of talents! A dozen men would struggle to move it.

We were to be off duty after the first night watch. Then your order came to seal the tomb and stand guard till the sixth hour of the first day. My men were unruly and sore about the extra working hours. But the provisions you ordered came about then. They enjoyed your table delicacies. I tell you, Pontius, they were faithful every minute, no watch slept. In fact I have not had a wink of sleep since the Day of Thor, the morning you called me to duty. I couldn’t sleep. Every thing I had to do to this man went against my grain. I’m not accusing you, Pontius, but I have killed an innocent man!

. . . But wait, let me tell you the rest.

We all stayed at our posts. Watch after watch passed. To the man, everyone had a hard time sleeping when off duty. There was an evil gloom around that place. We heard voices where there were no bodies. We were oppressed by evil thoughts. Hate broke out between my men. Close friends argued. On several occasions I had to order them to put up their swords. It seemed like Bacchus himself was present, yet none of my men used spirits. That which you sent has not been touched.

Just as the sun was breaking over the Mount of Olives this morning, I heard curses and angry shouts—they came out of nowhere. Suddenly we were bathed in light brighter than mid-day. One like a great warrior stood there, shining with dazzling brilliancy. He spoke, "The Lord rebuke thee," and the eerie muttering ceased. At the sight of the mighty being we fell to the ground quaking with fear and drained of our strength. With great effort I raised myself up on my hands to give orders. I saw the warrior roll away the entrance stone with one hand, as if it were a pebble.

Again the earth shook. Rocks clattered as they rolled into the valley. We saw him take a step backward as he called, "Son of God, come forth, thy Father calls thee!"

And suddenly there He stood, robed in a blaze of glory! The warrior bowed to Him. In black darkness my men had observed Him die—in blazing glory they saw Him step from the tomb alive. Pontius, He has risen!

My men staggered to their feet and ran. They could do nothing else! I followed them, staggering as if drunk. As I ran to report to you, I was stopped by a girl from Bethany. She wanted directions to the tomb. I told her, "He’s not there, He has risen!" Just a minute later I came upon a group of partially dressed priests. They had fled from a building when the earth quaked. They were talking to three huge men. Why, those giants were twice as tall as the priests! As I ran past them I heard the giants saying, "We were all dead—now we are alive! The LORD Jehovah has risen, and He has raised us! He has redeemed us!"

"No! No!" The priests were screaming.

I tried to hasten to report to you, but at every turn there were knots of people blocking the way. Next to the Pool of Bethesda a choir of four and twenty women and men walked. Their heights ranged from normal to gigantic. They were singing in perfect harmony:

"Thou art worthy for thou wast slain, and hast redeemed us out of every nation and time, and made us priests. Worthy is the Lamb that was slain! Blessing and honor and glory be unto Him."

A little further on I heard two men telling a group from the Sanhedrin, "It is just as Enoch told us. He is risen. He will go to heaven, but He will come back with ten thousand of His angels to take those who believe on Him to Heaven. He is risen!"

I hastened on. But I had to pause again. Forgive me, but Anthony ran up to me. Remember my brother-in-law Anthony? He believed Joshua to be the Messiah. Anthony was killed a month ago in the Barabbus uprising. We cremated his body and cased his urn in lime mortar that no man could break. How I’ve missed him! When Anthony recognized me he exclaimed, "I was dead, but now I’m alive! The Son of Man has risen! He is alive! He has redeemed me!"

Pontius, I heard that mighty angel dispel Lucifer, the Morning Star. I heard the angel cry at the entrance to the tomb, "Arise, thy Father calls Thee!"

I saw Jesus standing at the entrance of the tomb in indescribable glory, His nail-pierced hands outstretched. He looked at me, and I saw love in His soft brown eyes. I again heard the words echoing from the cross, "You will be with Me in paradise." Me, a lowly Roman centurion? But He has risen! He is my Redeemer!