posted
I met him once, a long time ago in a musty old inn outside mainstream Jerusalem. It was quite by accident.
I had saved up for a lifetime to take a trip to the holy land with my wife but as life got in the way, life took her away. Now in my loneliness I finally got up the courage to go.
Good Friday was the wrong time of year though as literally, there was no room in the inn--at least downtown. I spent the better part of my first full day in town looking for a place to lay my head as opposed to taking the holy land tours.
It wasn't until sundown that I finally found a place if you want to call it that. Mostly a dive but the price was right at any price as long as it came with a bed and hot water.
I settled down in the bed, letting the cool breeze flow through the open window. I wanted to hear the sounds of the city but there were few this far outside. In the distance I heard a lamb cry and thought how odd that after all these centruies you could still hear the lambs and see shepherds.
Then I heard an odd sound. It seemed to be coming both from outside and from the wall behind my head simultaneously. Listening intently, I made it out to be a man's voice but I couldn't understand what he was saying.
Not becasue he was mumbling mind you, but becasue it was in a language that was foreign to me. And yes, most of the language around here was foreign but this was not Hebrew. His voice was distinctive, peppered with nuances, with punctuations and with variety that was, not musical, but, stately?
I couldn't place it but I was now sitting up on my bed listening closely at the wall. If they had a galss in this room I would have used it. Instead I waited.
There! Again!
This time louder, more passionate, as if a plea for help--no--mercy. The sentences were getting longer and his voice was gaining in intensity.
A statesmen! That's what the sound reminded me of. Someone who was a politician, who made speeches. Someone who was accustomed to having people listen to him. He barked out harsh sounding phrases as if giving orders but there were no replies. I was confident he was alone since I could not detect any other voice.
Then, came the most awful, pitiful sound, screaming as if in excruciating pain. Crashing, broken glass. What was going on in there? I moved close to the wall as if that would enable me to see through it.
He pounded the room as if fighting an invisible foe until I heard the door open. I sprang to the door and opened it a crack. There! He was coming out.
A moderate sized man looking to be in his 50's but his shoulders were so husky--strong--bullish. He was bald. But his hands!
Each one was wrapped in a cheap white towel clearly stained in blood. I assumed he had injured himself in his room the way he was going crazy in there.
He darted down the hall, limping all the way and cradling his hands, his pain undeniable. Words kept echoing from his throat, undistinguishable. The mutterings of a madman?
Curiosity. I opened his door slightly and perred in at the devastation he reaped on the cheap but innocent furniture. Dive or not the management would not be pleased. Was he ducking out? As I was about to turn, I noticed an object on the floor. How odd.
He must have injured himself, for a small brass bowel of bloodly water sat partially covered by an elegant embrodiered cloth. Not the kind of material this inn provided.
I determined that I would follow him and raced out the door. In the dark cloak of the night in Jerusalem, one can easily lose themselves. Fingers of darkness calmly stroked the alleys and clung to the trees. A foreboding night if ever I saw one.
His voice! I caught a fragment of sound in my ear and instinctively turned my head in the direction of it. I dashed down the alley hoping it would ultimately lead to a resolution of the unfolding mystery I stumbled on.
It WAS him! I stayed well behind, hiding in doorways like one would expect to see a slave do in a gladiator movie. He was stumbling along, his rantings were interrupted by agonizing wails of anguish. Down the stairs around the corner, across the field and then up.
Up a rocky, menacing incline winding up to a crest overlooking the ancient city walls. I felt that I had stepped back 20 centuries in time and fully expected a centurion to pop out of the darkness.
He slowed his pace and entered a heavy fog coated with the blackness of the night, disappearing from my view.
Dare I follow?
THWUUUUUUMMMMP! He screamed, pitifully. I couldn't place the sound but it wasn't natural, it wasn't the man falling on the ground, different, I just couldn't place it.
THWUUUUUUMMMMP! Again the gut wrenching scream. A stiff breeze blew in from the south causing the fog to dance like Salome for King Herod.
THWUUUUUUMMMMP! That sound, like a hammer but so heavy, so final in its journey. Wait! There was no scream, maybe he was dead. That's it, someone was beating him--to death!
The breeze was now a tumultuous whirlwind slapping my body and pushing me away from the sound of the beating.
"Abba, adoni, al chet,asir!"
His words filtered into my ears, he was still alive!
I summoned all my strength and burst through the veil of darkness, stunned by what loomed before me.
The man, the crazy man! Nailed to a cross!?? How, who...
""Abba, adoni, al chet,asir!"
Fear gripped me and I instinctively turned and raced back to the inn, wondering all the way what had happened and if I could get help in time to save him from this butchery.
"Revi!" I shouted at the young clerk. A man, up on that hill--he's been attacked!"
"Attacked!?"
"Yes, well, he's hanging on a cross, he's dying, you know the man in the room next to me!'
"Oh," exclaimed Revi, "That room is never used Sir." "But, I heard...I saw that...he's hanging..."
"No, no Sir, look we go see."
I gladly followed him to the room knowing that he would at last understand me. Revi pushed the door open to reveal a room void of disruption, no spoiled furniture, no brass bowl.
I shook my head in wonderment. "Come with me" I ordered and Revi tossed his long black locks back in forth in disbelief, as if he was a partaker in a ritual.
I took him to the top of the hill where the wind had ceased it's bellowing, where the heavy darkness dissapated and where, to my amazement was no cross and no man. "I,I, don't understand. I saw him." I turned and looked Revi in his deep black eyes, "He said something like, Abba, adoni, al chet,asir." I know I butchered the words but Revi nodded.
It's the same every year. It means, Father, my master, for the sin I am your prisoner."
"I don't understand"
"It's a legend sir, nothing more. You see, it is said that every year on the night Jesus was crucified, Ponius Pilate suffers the same fate until Jesus comes again. But, it is just a legend."
Posts: 65 | Registered: Mar 2005
| IP: Logged |
posted
A good catch. He spoke in the language of the Romans; however, the intent was to have him speak in Hebrew to his eternal master while on the cross. A show of humility if you will!
Thanks for the advice.
Posts: 65 | Registered: Mar 2005
| IP: Logged |
posted
Overall, it left me with a good feeling. I do think it was a bit too melodramatic.
Also, as a Grammar Nazi, reading "...one can easily lose themselves" was painful to me. And the word "bloodly" was used, but that was probably a typo. Posts: 1423 | Registered: Sep 2003
| IP: Logged |
posted
Hm. It's a fun little ghost story, but I'm not sure about your decision to make God the villain of the piece.
Posts: 37449 | Registered: May 1999
| IP: Logged |
posted
Yeah, a few typos actually, and you're right, I wasn't thinking of making God a villain, but imagine how hard it was for him, a father, to watch his son go through what he did even when he had to. Couldn't have been easy. So maybe he just took an itsy bitsy bit of vengence out on old Pilate.
Posts: 65 | Registered: Mar 2005
| IP: Logged |
posted
Had I been a little quicker yesterday I would have replied thus to the thought of using God as a villian:
Iy wasn't God who punished Pilate--it was Satan. Pilate was an unwitting player in a series of events that had to hap[pen, in a sense preordained.
It was this action that sealed the master's plan and thwarted Satan's. Satan, angry at Pilate for assisting the master to achieve the crucifixtion and thus spread Christianity throughout the world, punished Pilate.
Hmmm, now there's a thought.
Posts: 65 | Registered: Mar 2005
| IP: Logged |
Printer-friendly view of this topic
![[Dont Know]](graemlins/dontknow.gif)
![[Smile]](smile.gif)
