Saturday 6 August 2016

Ecce homo

Agony in the garden. Jesus falls to the ground, hunches into a foetal ball out of fear, shivering and sweating. When He finally gets up He is faint.

Arrest. Trial.

Peter disowns Him. Now that shocking feeling, reeling with nausea, realising that one really has actually done the unthinkable. Overwhelming shame. Nothing could be worse than this. 

The quiet resignation of Jesus before the high priests. He knew He was doomed. He just stood there and took it, His divine, cosmic power veiled.

Pilate, exasperated at yet another revolutionary trying it on. More threats from those damned officials. He looked at Jesus and saw a completely innocent man. His demeanour was not that of a rebel or a trouble maker. Pilate was disturbed. He tried everything to get Him off.

'Ecce homo.'

Look at Him. I mean - just look at Him. Quiet, humble, rational although half dead from scourging and shock. Hardly a rabid maniac, obviously a threat to no-one. Surely you have punished Him enough, whatever you think His crime is? Look at him, for God's sake.


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