Via Dolorosa

[Editor’s note: Normally I write whatever is on my mind at the moment. This piece is the first story I’d ever wrote per request (aside from college papers, of course). The church I attend wanted something read in front of a song in their Easter cantata, and they asked me to write something. So I wrote this. In the end it had to be changed, as it wasn’t quite what they wanted, so I decided to post the original here. It’s quite different from what I normally write.]

Leah could hear them approaching long before she could see them. The angry mob. The shouts of the soldiers. She could feel the hatred in the air – hatred directed at one man, condemned to die. Soon he would be passing by, on the road that went to Golgotha. She did not want to see it, but she could not bear to leave. She knew it was dangerous to care for that man. His followers had already been scattered and feared for their lives. She knew she should run, but she didn’t.

How could she leave, now, after all he had done? He had cast a demon out of her brother, healing him of the darkness that had held him captive for so long. He had touched her aunt and made her whole again. He had given her hope – hope that God had not forgotten his people.

For so long they had languished under the oppression of the Romans. For so long they had been prisoners in their own land. Tax collectors had robbed them. Religious leaders had turned the Temple into a house of extortion. At any moment the Romans might come beating down the door to her home. At any moment her fragile life might end.

This man – he had offered them hope. Many thought that he would be the one to save them from Caesar. John the Baptist had told everyone that he was God’s anointed. Surely this man was going to give them the victory they so longed for. Surely he would rule over them as king.

Last week he had ridden into the city with such great pomp and circumstance. The crowds had shouted his praises. Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Blessed was he who had come to save them. Deliverance was at hand!

But now all was lost. He had been betrayed by a friend and handed over to his enemies. His body was broken and bloody, and he was being marched to his death. This man – the one who was going to save them all – had been condemned to the way of suffering. This was the end.

The crowd was here now. They were all pressed together, filled with rage. Leah stepped back out of the way, watching. The hatred was intense, palpable, demonic. They raged against him, cursing, mocking. The Romans pushed the crowd back, making a path for the bloodied man to continue down the road.

She saw him, briefly, as the crowd parted. He was disfigured beyond belief. She wondered how he was even able to stand. He was in such agony and pain, and yet he was silent. He ignored the taunts of the crowd. He seemed determined to walk the road.

Leah suddenly realized that he had chosen this path. He had given himself up and walked the road freely. He was going to his death of his own will. But why? Why would he do this? He could have become king! He could have been their deliverer. Why was Jesus so determined to go to the cross?