A Good Friday Reflection

My name is John Mark. It’s all my mother’s fault. Actually, it is probably my cousin, Barnabas’, fault. You see, my cousin is a follower of Jesus. It was he who talked my mother into becoming a follower as well. Yesterday when Jesus asked for a large room to have supper with his followers, my mother quickly obliged. Then when Jesus asked for a secluded place to pray after supper with his disciples, my mother obliged again with her garden on the Mount of Olives. You see, my mother is quite wealthy.

 

I met Jesus for the first time yesterday. It was an experience like no other that I have ever had in my young life. When he looks at you, it is like he looks into your soul. And there is an arura about him that there are just no words for. I just wanted to be with him and follow him, myself.

 

Last night was strangely subdued. We had a rabbinical meal with Jesus. Jesus seemed sullen. He called the bread his body. And he called the wine his blood. I have no idea what he was talking about and as far as I could tell nobody else did either.

 

I looked at Peter for some guidance, but got none. Peter has a bigger than life presence. I look up to Peter. I mean, Peter is a little rough around the edges. Peter just blurts out whatever comes into his mind. But there is a certain charm to that. I think Peter is a born leader.

 

After we ate, Judas left in a huff. That guy is really emotional. Peter is emotional too, but Peter knows how to channel his emotions. Judas is all over the map.

 

Jesus had talked about being betrayed. I mean, I couldn’t believe it. This seems a very loyal group to me. Of course, everyone denied it. That’s when Judas left. Maybe he was sore that Jesus might think he was not loyal. He takes things so personally. Of course, Peter made a big deal out of his denial of betrayal. Then Jesus said that Peter would deny Jesus three times that every night.

 

Why would Jesus accuse Peter of such a thing? Peter is really close to Jesus. Peter is loyal. I really believe that Peter would die trying to defend Jesus from any foe. Peter is the bravest man I know.

 

It was late and it was dark when we made it to my mother’s garden. I told her that I would also take the watch for it. It was so hard to stay awake. I heard a commotion that woke me. There were torches and temple guards and there was Judas leading them. They had orders to arrest Jesus. Peter drew a sword and cut off the ear of a slave. I’m sure Peter wanted to cut off more than that. I told you Peter is brave.

 

Jesus stopped the violence and healed the man’s ear.

 

After they grabbed Jesus, we thought we were next. We ran. We ran and ran. One of the soldiers tried to grab me and only caught my linen cloth. I knew I was naked but I ran anyway – as hard as I could.

 

I knew I needed clothes and went home. Then I wondered if I should stay there and hide or if they recognized me, they might come and arrest me too. I was so tired. I fell asleep and woke at sunrise.

 

I decided it wasn’t safe to stay, but I didn’t know where else to go. If they captured and tortured a disciple, they might give up my mother’s home. I told my mother, Mary, what happened last night and told her it might not be safe to stay.

 

We decided to wear peasant garb and blend into the crowd. As we walked into the city, we heard that Jesus had been tried by the Sanhedrin and now they had taken Jesus to Pilate. That can’t be good. Pilate is well known for his butchery.

 

We arrived at the Praetorium. There was Pilate, some Roman soldiers, the high priests, and bloodied man standing before Pilate. I gasped when I recognized Jesus. Then I caught myself in case anyone noticed. I could see a tear coming down my mother’s face. There were so many people crowded around, it was hard to make out what was said. But it became apparent the that this trail was a sham. The verdict was decided before Jesus arrived.

 

Roman soldiers took a bloody, beaten Jesus. They gave him a crossbar. He had a thorny crown. You know, like the ones that Romans like to give to victors. Only instead of grape leaves, this was just thorns. They gave him an expensive, purple cloak, the kind that only royalty or rich people can afford. They were going to crucify him.

 

We’ve seen it. We’ve seen it over and over again. Many Jews have lined the roads here with their bodies. And not just here, but all over the empire that the Romans claim men are crucified. In some places, like in Galilee, they leave the poles permanently in the ground, because crucifixions are so commonplace. That’s what they did at Golgotha, outside the city walls.

 

And that is what they did. They nailed Jesus’ hands to the crossbar and lifted him up on the pole. They secured the crossbar and then they nailed his feet to the pole. I noticed Jesus’ mother crying. She has the same name as my mother. The Romans told her to back off, which she did but only by a few feet.

 

I just can’t believe this is how it ends. I guess it is okay to have goodness, you just can’t have a lot of it. Evil doesn’t like goodness. Is that all there is to life? Hoping for the best and expecting the worse? If someone like Jesus can’t change the way things are, then how can we hope for something better?

 

We remembered that we didn’t know if Barnabas was okay or not. We went to look for him.

 

Maybe Jesus’ death will not be in vain. Maybe there is something more. For now, we need to lay low. Evil is afoot. I then wondered. Is anyone writing this stuff down?

 

Text: Mark 14:12 – 15:47 and John 18:1 – 19:42

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