GOLGOTHA: YOU ARE THERE
Come with me, if you dare . . . experience with all your senses Jesus’ travail, his torture of trial, scourge and crucifixion. It wasn’t an antiseptic, lily-white spectacle. It wasn’t a modern Spring- fashion-parade . . . a chocolate-egg-and-bunny kind of day, with anthem and organ falling on once-a-year ears! Come with me, if you will, and consider: Are we living people with dead memories of mob and mockery? Try to remember . . . if you can . . . it wasn’t pretty, or antiseptic, or lily-white . . . Listen . . . Listen to the rabble scream and curse, “Crucify him! Crucify him!” Cringe with every lash . . . count them up to forty . . . if you dare . . . forty heavy, searing lashes . . . raw, bleeding skin . . . pulverized misery . . . agonized brutality! Feel the thrust of thorns, piercing splinters, pushed down, gouged in, twisted…
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