Chapter 18: The Thread of Forgiveness

Kathleen was Mary. She was surrounded by people. Angry people. Crucify him! Crucify him! Voices from men, women, children! Standing in front on a podium was what appeared to be some sort of ruler or king. His red velvet robe, a gold staff in his hand, sitting on a seat of royalty. In front of him, bound at the wrists and severely scathed and beaten with a purple garment. The blood from fresh wounds seeping through. It was David but it wasn’t. Yoshua?

The only way to calm the mob was to feed them. The king did just that. A wooden cross made of two heavy logs was tied and bound to his arms and he was wiped into moving with it. His legs struggled with every inch as the crow pelted him with stones and spit. One man stepped through the crowd and helped him but was whipped away by a Roman soldier. Yoshua never stopped. He slowed to a crawl but never stopped.

After what was an eternity had passed, he was there. Calgary. A place on a hill that wreaked of death. Once Yoshua was there he was bound even tighter around his wrists to the wood. A barbaric looking soldier with a large wooden mallet and a handful of large iron spikes came rushing to him. He summoned two other soldiers to hold him down then the iron met his flesh. With a fierce swing of the mallet the first spike was driven through his right hand and into the beam. Searing hot with pain, the mallet came down again driving the spike further into the wood. Again. Again. This process was repeated on his left hand after that. Another Roman soldier came with a crown of thorns and mashed it into his forehead. More blood seeped from countless places. There was a wooden footing at his feet. They were bound when a third, much bigger spike was driven through the webs of both feet together. There were two other men sentenced to the same fate that day but it was clear that Yoshua was the main attraction. The base of the timber was fed into a hole made specifically for it. Three soldiers hoisted the cross with the man nailed to it into the air, dropping its base into the ground. The crowd looked thirsty. The two other men that day flanked Yoshua. His mother, Mary watched in horror. At one point, Yoshua looked toward the sky and said forgive them father for they know not what they do.