Andy Cirmo

Easter ‘06

After a long journey from home by ship and camel caravan from the coast I now finally had arrived in Jerusalem. I’d been waiting all my life to make this pilgrimage and saved up money to pay for it for so long I couldn’t remember. Since my wife died I had been despondent, and had all but given up on this dream. My bitterness over her death had clouded everything in my life and I could feel myself slipping. I knew what it was to be a good Jew, but my trust in the will of God and my faith in His promise was at an all time low. If it wasn’t for my sons, Alexander and Rufus, and their surprising gift to me I don’t know if I ever would have been able to make this journey. But as I look back on it all now I realize that I may have thought God had abandoned me and questioned my purpose in life, but He didn’t. He had a plan for me that I would have never have imagined.

I missed the boys so much and couldn’t wait to tell them all about my journey and to describe Jerusalem and the temple to them. It had been a month already since I left by merchant ship from our little Jewish community in this small area of Cyrene. (on the African coast in what is now Libya). To take a pilgrimage to Jerusalem for Passover; had to be the dream of every Jew, and for me it was finally a reality. The voyage by sea was good except for a couple of days when we went through stormy seas. I know now I could never have been a seaman. My feet belong firmly planted on the earth tending my fields, as my father and his father and his father always have.

But after what seemed to be a very long journey from the coast...there it was, Jerusalem, after a week of dusty and dry and hot journey through the desert and the mountains it was a welcomed sight. I remember being in awe of the high walls and the big gates and just the sheer size of it. It was a very impressive city, and everything I heard about it was true. As I walked through the gates into the marketplace, the sounds and sights and smells of all the people, their trades, and the teeming life of this great city just amazed me that there people from many lands there for the Passover. (I could tell because of their clothes, and faces and languages.) I’d really never experienced anything like this. It was truly marvelous to be there.

Then there were the Romans...the Romans; with their horses and armor and swords. They seemed to be at every corner of this place, just watching us all. It felt like they were waiting for something at all times but didn’t know what. It felt like they hated us and hated being here and were just angry at life. I wondered how they ever became soldiers and why, if they hated it so much. They’d push and shove people out of their way like they had so much disdain for them...for us. For I was a Jew too. My ancestors had fled Israel a long time ago and joined others in building our small Jewish community so far away! But this really felt like home. I felt like I belonged here and that all these people were my brothers and sisters. My dislike of the Romans really blossomed. I began to look at them with disdain and long for the day we as a people could be rid of them and their laws and their gods and their sinful ways.

The holy days were upon us and I only hoped I could find a room at an inn to sleep in for the few days I had to spend here. Thanks to my son’s gift to me I was able to afford a clean room with a nice family not too far from the temple and was able to walk there every day to pray . I could even afford to buy some doves to be sacrificed in worship and atonement for my sins. There were so many merchants around the temple mount it was difficult to even approach without what seemed to be hundreds of them calling out to me or pulling at me to come and see what they had to sell. This place is full of surprises for me...I never would have thought that it could be like this. Was this what the great king Solomon had wanted when he built the first temple?

I remember as I approached the temple that first day and purified myself in the pool outside I couldn’t believe how big it was. I’d never seen anything like it. It was described to us by the sailors who visited our town many times, but to see it in person, it brought me to tears. This was what I always had wanted to do for as long as I could remember, and here it was. I remember reaching out to touch one of the giant columns at the top of the stairs past the entry arch just to really know that it was real, and I was this close to the holy of holies. As I stood there just taking it all in, the people, the priests, the burnt offerings, the smoke and incense rising, the sounds of the animals, of the horns, of the cymbals and drums, and the songs and prayers...it filled me with joy and almost lifted me and pulled me in. I fell to my knees and bowed down in prayer for the longest time and have never felt so deeply in awe of God, so fortunate to be a Jew, and to know that our God Yahweh was the one true God who has always been with us as he promised and will deliver us from our most recent captors, the Romans. I prayed in thanks for my sons, for my life, and for this journey.

I recall right about then I felt a touch on my arm. An old man, who clearly had been watching me, had come over looked up into my eyes and said "I saw you". "Who are you? I said". "And what did you see?" He just looked deeply into my eyes and said "I saw you touch the temple with reverence and love". Oh I said. "I touched it because I just wanted to finally believe that I was really here experiencing this." He smiled and said to me five words I’ll never forget, although at the time I thought they were just the ravings of an old man...He said: "You are here for him". "What do you mean"? I said. And before he turned to walk slowly away he took my hands and said "but not here".

As he left me I couldn’t find the words to ask him what he meant, I was just stunned at this sudden meeting with this old man, and I looked up from my hands to see that he was gone. Where did he go? I remember thinking. Oh well, I thought, the big city must be full of characters like this, and people who have gone mad from all the noise and the crowds and such over time.

The rest of my first day was uneventful as I worshipped in the Temple and listened to the elders and teachers read and explain the scrolls. It was a marvelous experience that I’d never forget. I could have stayed there forever. But it was not to be. I only had a couple more days before I had to begin my journey home again. I not only wanted to visit the temple every day but also to walk the streets of this great city of my ancestors, of the great Kings of Israel, and of my people. I felt finally connected to all my ancestors and truly a son of Israel in every sense, as I worshiped with them and walked among my brothers who also knew the one true God and with whom I would share the Passover.

After a nice supper with the family in whose home I had a room, I remember watching the most beautiful sunset with them from the roof. It seemed like God had painted the sky that night in shades of red and orange and gold to especially show His love to all of Israel and as a reminder of His presence in that first Passover.

On the next day I was thrilled to be able to go to the temple and spend a lot of time in prayer and worship and listening to the Pharisees who taught in many corners of the inner temple and on the steps. Although I looked every time I went to the temple for that old man who had touched my arm and said those strange things to me, I never saw him again. It was as though he had vanished. I even asked a few people and described him to them, but no one knew who he was or where he was or even admitted that they had ever seen him. Well it’s a big city and people can get lost here I thought.

In the late afternoons before sundown, when the temperature began to cool off I walked all over the city and sampled the shops and the food and the culture and the merchants. This was truly an exciting place, although I’m sure I could never live there, it was all just too loud and busy and fast paced. I’m a man of the land, a farmer, who loves the soil and water and things of nature rather than all the things of man that a city could provide.

I remember a day or so later going to the temple again, this time with a sacrifice to be offered for my departed wife, that God would have mercy on her, and in thanks for the gift of my sons who God gave me to care for me in my old age. In the afternoon I decided to take a walk through the beautiful gardens outside the gates and visit the olive groves and enjoy the shade the trees provided on such a hot day. I remember commenting to myself in the garden that this was a truly beautiful place to walk and to think and pray. I sat on a large rock for the longest time just enjoying the afternoon shade and sound of the leaves as a warm breeze filtered through their branches making such a soothing sound. Truly this was one of the most peaceful places in Jerusalem. As I walked back toward the city gates I could hear the noise of a large crowd, almost a roar and I began to run toward the sound to see what was happening. Truly, life in a big city was exciting with new things going on all them time. Maybe it was a party or a celebration or a famous person was visiting the city.

Fortunately I am a fairly large man, and as I approached the crowd I could look over most of them. I noticed that they were lining the main street and waving palm branches"...He is here, He is here" they kept saying, "Jesus the great teacher", "the prophet of God", and some even said "the Messiah" and sang "Hosanna"! There He is, they said. I looked down the street I could see a man on a donkey slowly riding into the city followed by a number of men who were waiving to the crowd and leaping and smiling in joy. Yet this man they called Jesus just rode quietly down the street with a calm look on His face and looked at the people in what seemed to be joy mixed with a kind of sadness. "This was no King or Messiah, or prophet, this was just a man on a donkey" I remember thinking. This man was no leader who would be our savior from the Romans, who were they kidding! But why did they celebrate so? I asked a bystander and he said that "this man has worked wonderful miracles, healed the sick, made the lame to walk and even bring the dead back to life. He is truly a prophet of the Lord." What? Raise the dead!! ("That’s impossible", another false prophet I thought to myself.)

The Roman soldiers did what they could to stop the celebration, but when they saw that the crowd was too big to control they backed off and tried to at least keep things orderly and let the procession continue. Maybe this man could lead us against the Romans’, I remember saying to myself. Soon the crowds calmed down as he passed and they went about their ways. I saw some of them picking up the palm fronds the donkey walked on and holding them close to themselves, like they were holy or blessed. What was this? Who was this? I had to find out more, but everyone seemed to leave so quickly when finally some Roman soldiers on horses arrived and began to break up the crowd and I had no chance to ask as they ran. This was a new experience for me, coming from a small Jewish settlement; I had never seen such a gathering of people gather in such a way or heard anyone say the things they were saying about this man. Who was this Man?

The next few days were uneventful as I again visited the temple and prayed, then wandered and explored and shopped for a few things to bring my sons. I learned more and more about life in the city. I had occasionally heard people whispering about this Jesus who came almost triumphantly into the city a few days before, but they seemed to be talking in secret now rather than shouting in joy as they did days before. There was something going on, but I was on the trip of a lifetime, and I was focused on my stay, and the coming Passover so I didn’t care much to ask.

It was now Thursday and I had returned to Eliazar’s home for the special Passover meal with his family. After the traditional meal and the prayers and the story, the children and his wife left and he turned to me and asked..."Have you heard about this Jesus"? "Yes" I said, "I saw him as he rode into town on an ass just a few days ago, and seemed to be a great hero. Who is he?" Eli paused and said: "Some say he is the messiah who we have been praying for and that he has come to rescue us from the Romans." While I had heard this said by some in the crowd, I had dismissed it as hysteria and not given it a thought. Eli then said: "It is rumored that he is to be arrested for blasphemy by the high priests with the help of the Romans tonight." "How do you know this?" I asked...Eli then told me that he had a friend who was a son of one of the members of the Sanhedrin and he had told him.

"Why would the Sanhedrin want to arrest him?" I asked. Eli mentioned that this Jesus has said that he is the son of God and has repeatedly insulted the Pharisees and well, need I say more? "But the Romans?" Well his followers call him a king and he has referred to his kingdom, and this of course worries the Romans who are afraid of another revolt."

It was becoming clear to me that something big was happening in Jerusalem and I was here at an amazing time to see it! I remember thinking that l’d really have stories for my sons when I returned to Cyrene.

I’ll never forget the next day for the rest of my life. It was a day that changed me forever.

I had risen late in the morning, having lain in bed awake all night for some reason, thinking about what was going on in Jerusalem that night. My mind was racing with questions, with thoughts of this man who looked so gentle and kind and a bit sad, and all his followers, and all those people and the joy, now turned to sadness or disbelief. I wondered what his followers must be feeling as I’m sure they fought to protect him and were probably all arrested with him too. I wondered what it would be like to be arrested by the Romans, what a trial by the Sanhedrin would be like. I had seen Caiaphas the high priest in the temple from a distance and really knew nothing about him. But I had heard, and we all knew that the procurator named Pilate from Rome was without morals and was a violent and hard ruler. This was truly a marvelous time to be here amidst real history being made, and real stories which I will be able to pass on to my sons and they to theirs someday. I planned to go over to the part of town where this was all going on to find out more if I could.

As I set out that morning I remember groups of people all heading toward the Roman Praetorium where Pilate was, because the rumor running through the streets was that the Sanhedrin had found him guilty and turned him over to Pilate for punishment. I’d never seen anything like this and my curiosity was piqued, to say the least. Not very far from the temple was the Praetorium where the Roman soldiers were based and where the palace which Pilate lived in was located. It was in his courtyard where trials and judgments happened.

The courtyard was full of people and there was no way anyone could get near it so the crowd spilled out into the streets surrounding it and no one seemed to know what was happening. Fortunately I found the edge of the crowd along the wall and was able to squeeze my way to an opening and because I was tall enough I could see and hear what was happening. The crowd was really uneasy and there was a lot of shouting. The Romans didn’t seem to be in control and I worried for a while that for some reason I would be caught up in some kind of riot. I still had sons to provide for and couldn’t be thrown in jail or worse.

All I could see was Pilate way up on the balcony with what looked like a bowl of water washing his hands and saying something to the crowd while he waived his hands away, dismissing the crowd in disgust. And there right next to him was a horrible sight. The man I had seen a few days before, this Jesus, this gentle and quiet man of great presence now covered in ugly garments, bleeding it seemed all over and through his clothes, even bleeding from the top of his head where it looked like they had jammed thorns into his scalp!! This was incredible. I can’t believe what they did to him.

Was this man so dangerous that they had to torture him, WHY!! What had he done? And the crowd...just days before had been singing in praise and joy and laying palms down in his path, now chanting "Crucify him, crucify him". NO! This couldn’t be true. Were the things he did deserving of this? I had never seen anything like it. The crowd yelled insults and were looking for blood. This was not at all what I had expected to see. And this was not the kind of story I’d want to tell my young sons about my Passover pilgrimage journey to Jerusalem. But it was real. Where were his supporters? It felt like all of Jerusalem had turned against him! What had he done, and why were things moving so quickly?

I could only watch in disbelief as this Jesus was pulled off the balcony by guards and thrown into the hands of the executioners who brought up a cross beam for him to carry to his crucifixion. Crucifixion, I had heard about this means of execution in stories from travelers who’d been to Rome and seen it done, and the stories were awful. The pain they said was excruciating. And this man was already bleeding and bent from whipping and torture, that was clear. How could the Romans be so cruel, and how could this crowd do this? To a man they hardly knew. Even I, who knew nothing about him, felt bad about this. It just didn’t feel right at all. But there was nothing I could do, that’s for sure. I had never seen a crucifixion and was curious, and horrified at the same time as the crowd began to move away from the Pretorium in the direction of the northern side of the city.

I asked a person in the crowd where everyone was heading and he said probably to the road that heads to the place where they will crucify him. I was disgusted at the thought that this man, who, for some reason in my heart I did not think deserved this, was to be executed, and in such a way. Again, I didn’t even know him and had never heard his voice, but for some reason didn’t think this was right. But I felt compelled to move toward him and for some reason witness his ignominious end. I was now part of the crowd, which moved along with him as he walked ever so slowly, up this steep grade. The street was narrow and winding and walled in on one side by the city and on the other with a low wall looking down the hill and over the walls and the valley. There was a rock quarry there at which, high on a cliff on the edge, the Romans held their crucifixions on a large outcropping of rock shaped like a skull, a place they called Golgotha.

I had seen him up close only once before, on that day he rode into Jerusalem on that ass to so much praise and applause and joy. What had happened? As I moved forward to the edge of the road at an intersection I was able to get close to the group of soldiers leading him up the road, whipping him as he struggled under the cross beam, bleeding, swollen, barely able to walk. Who was this man who they wanted to inflict so much pain to? Why?

A woman ran to him and even in his suffering he looked down in incredible tenderness and placed his hand on her head as she cried. Some people in the crowd said "She’s his mother". How she must feel! She cried out as the soldiers pulled her away, "Dear God not like this, not like this", she said! It must have been like a sword had pierced her heart to see him like this. Here I was, just here for the Passover but now in a crowd that was continuing to jeer him and insult him as he struggled.

After a few more steps he fell, but the soldiers wouldn’t help, they just kept prodding him until he got up again. But he was so weak from the loss of all that blood that literally left a trail behind him, that they were concerned that he’d not make it to the crucifixion. The soldiers would be severely chastised for failing to crucify him to death, so they began to look around at the crowd. They said something to the crowd and people pulled back. I couldn’t hear what it was. Probably because I was so much taller and bigger than the others they looked at me and yelled something to me and the crowd literally moved away from me. Why? What? Me? "No! I can’t... No!" I said...But the soldiers grabbed my arm and pushed me toward the Crossbeam and this Jesus. I couldn’t believe it. I had just come to celebrate the Passover in Jerusalem and here I was lifting a crossbeam to help the Romans crucify someone! But if I didn’t they’d surely strike me down. I’d seen their cruelty and joy of inflicting pain. No I must do this to save my own life!

That’s when it happened: the moment which changed my life forever. It was a moment that no matter how long I live, it will remain as an indelible memory right in front of me to experience over and over like it is just happening this instant. It’s burned into my consciousness forever; and as I’ve lived my life every moment since then I see everything through that vision.

Here I was, I had just come to Jerusalem for the Passover with so many thousands of other Jews from all over the world, and yet I was called on to help him carry His cross!. I guessed that the soldiers wanted someone carrying His cross for Him until he could build up his strength and carry it to the end. And now I was sharing His burden even if just for a moment, as I was to learn later that he took my burden away forever.

But this cross! As the soldiers lifted it up onto my shoulders, and the blood from His shoulders touched my skin I could feel its’ crushing weight. Much more than it should have ever weighed. This crossbeam must have been made of the heaviest wood possible. But how? It was so very heavy I could barely move on. I was a very strong and large man back then and I should have been able to easily carry this burden. But I could barely move. How did this man from Galilee carry it this far? How did they expect Him to carry it further? And then crucify Him?

It’s hard to even put the rest into words. Just as they lifted the crossbeam off His back He looked right into my eyes. His eyes! It was as if I was at that instant looking not only at myself, but deep into the eyes of every man woman and child who’d ever lived, the eyes of this man Jesus. He looked into my soul, at that instant I remember the burdens I was carrying with me and the sorrow of my loss, and the doubt of my faith was instantly lifted. Then as he looked up and tried to stand again He said softly, "I am here for you". And somehow at that instant I recognized him. At that instant I knew who He was...my Lord, my creator, my redeemer, my savior, my king, the Son of God, who was doing this for us, for me! I finally realized who this man was. He really was the son of God himself, who knew all, who looked into my eyes and saw my soul, who at that instant loved me as I had always been loved by God since the beginning of time. In his eyes was not hatred and fear but love and kindness, and that same gentleness I had seen as he rode into Jerusalem that day. There was neither anger nor fear but tears of sorrow in his eyes, and a sadness of burden which I will never fully understand. Eyes of love looked at me as if he’d known I was coming and knew me well.

Now I felt strengthened again and wanted to carry this cross further for Him, to offer up my body for Him, as he had done for me. But after only a short time carrying the cross and walking beside Him, the soldiers after a while felt he was strong enough and removed the cross from my shoulders and placed it back onto his. I resisted them and then they hit me with a club on the back of my head, throwing me back into the crowd which by this time was laughing and deriding me too for helping Him. Dazed and teary eyed I could only look up from the ground as the soldiers kept whipping him and driving him forward. As the road turned, He was out of my sight. I lay there and could go no further.

As I lay there I watched the crowd disappear in the distance and felt a great sadness as well as a great happiness at the same time that I had...no HE had found me. Had this really happened? I remember laying there thinking that maybe it was all a dream. But at that moment I felt a hand touch my arm and helping me up. Through my tears and light headedness I could see the image of an old man who I recognized from the Temple, and who had said to me "You are here for him... but not here". But now he said: "You must go and tell others of this great love, and that today, man’s sins are forgiven". I remember that I tried to grab at his cloak, but as I reached out to hold him, to ask him about Jesus, to ask him how he knew me, to ask him who he was...he was gone.

I remember as I staggered back down the hill and bounced off the walls with my head pounding that a great darkness and wind and lightning roared through Jerusalem as the earth shook. A couple hours later I had a foggy memory of laying in a bed, as Eliazar’s wife Mary wiped my brow. I don’t remember how I made my way all the way back in my confused and dizzy state but I did somehow, and now nothing would ever be the same. "I was there" she said. "I saw what you did and what they did to Him. You need your rest."

Many days later I remember finally feeling much better and heading back out to the streets which now were abuzz with rumors and talk about what had happened in Jerusalem that day. I was told how he died and what he said, and that strange occurrences had been happening all over the region with people seeing angels and hearing stories. Most amazing of all was the story that He said He would destroy the temple and rebuild it in three days, and that people were saying that in three days indeed He was no longer in His grave!! Everyone was wondering what was going to happen...It felt like the whole world had changed and I remember feeling like I had to tell everyone how I felt about this Jesus. It seems that more than a few of the people who were Eliazar and Mary’s friends had heard Jesus speak in the towns in Judea and were still believers. These people were weak and frightened and sorrowful but still wanted to believe in Him.

This went on as I remained in Jerusalem for weeks longer than I had planned, and as I began to tell them of my experience I felt carried by a power I never felt I had and I was able to put into words; Who I felt this Jesus really was. Truly He is the one who was to come as the scriptures foretold to establish His kingdom. And I believed somehow that HE had died for us so that we might live! But I didn’t fully understand what it meant or how those two things fit together.

A couple evenings later at our meal I asked Mary, "What happened to his disciples, where were they? They did nothing, they were not even there"! "Well," she said..."I think I know". It seems that Mary had heard from her friends where a number of Jesus’ closest disciples were hiding. And she said "Come with me and Eli tomorrow. We’re going to go over to the other side of the city where we think they are hiding to seek to learn everything they know about Jesus. They must know more. We have to learn more. We hunger for it; to know that it is true."

I was excited at the prospect, and was waiting for them when they awoke so we could get an early start. But when we arrived we found that we weren’t alone. For some reason there were hundreds of people in the square that day not far from the tavern, above which was a room where everyone thought His followers were hiding. Many people from many countries were in town for the Passover and many languages were being spoken by those gathered there that day. It was an excited gathering. No one knew what would happen, but everyone somehow knew that everything was changed now, that nothing would ever be the same.

As we got closer we could see that one of Jesus followers was out on a balcony outside a large room above the inn on the square. He was speaking from still a great distance, but as we stood there we could hear him as if he was standing right with us, and as he spoke, no matter what language was spoken by the listeners, they all understood this man’s voice, and they all looked at each other in amazement. My heart burned at the sound of this disciple’s words, and the message was clear. I finally understood this man, this Jesus, this Savior of the world, this Redeemer, this Son of God this Christ, who died that we might live and now had truly arisen from the dead that we might join Him in eternal life and whose kingdom will last forever.

Eli and Mary turned to me and said: "It’s time now for you to return home Simon. You were clearly here for Him as He has always been for you. And now it is time

to tell everyone there in Cyrene what you have seen; and to bring them the good news of salvation".

Copyright © 2006 by Andy Cirmo