innocence

i was there, the day we nailed Jesus to a cross.

i was in the mob in that garden, when we dragged him away,
like a convicted criminal. and if you looked closely,
you would have seen me at the high priest's house, when we
voted to kill him, when we condemned my savior.

i was there at the governor's house, when we received the
bound prisoner, the king of the jews. i advised Pilate to
satisfy the mob; what's one more crucified Hebrew, i told him.

yes, i spat on him and beat him and taunted him.
"prophesy! prophesy if you're such a man of God. blasphemer!"
and when we flogged him, i was the most zealous.


and i was there, when the darkness fell and he breathed his last.
only he and i existed then, surrounded by a vast emptiness of
quiet and despair. on that hill of desolation, i could see his
face -- and i saw his spirit leave him.

the same spirit that touched me. inside, i stirred and cried as
never before. and then i knew i looked into the face of
unmeasurable love, infinite compassion, the very face of God.

and we crucified him that day. i crucified God that day.

i could feel the warmth begin in my own face and the tears
begin to flow -- and all i could whisper before my world
ended was -- "truly, this man was the Son of God."

Shane Ross