Day 44 - Thursday, April 6
MAUNDY THURSDAY
Title: CRUCIFY HIM!
Scripture: John 19:1–16
Then Pilate took Jesus and had him flogged, and the soldiers twisted thorn-twigs into a crown and put it on his head, threw a purple robe around him and kept coming into his presence, saying, “Hail, king of the Jews!” And then they slapped him with their open hands.

Then Pilate went outside again and said to them, “Look, I bring him out before you here, to show that I find nothing criminal about him at all.”

And at this Jesus came outside too, wearing the thorn crown and the purple robe. “Look,” said Pilate, “here’s the man!”

The sight of him made the chief priests and Jewish officials shout at the top of their voices, “Crucify! Crucify!” “You take him and crucify him,” retorted Pilate. “He’s no criminal as far as I can see!”

The Jews answered him, “We have a Law, and according to that Law, he must die, for he made himself out to be Son of God!”

When Pilate heard them say this, he became much more uneasy, and returned to the palace again and spoke to Jesus, “Where do you come from?”

But Jesus gave him no reply. So Pilate said to him, “Won’t you speak to me? Don’t you realize that I have the power to set you free, and I have the power to have you crucified? 

“You have no power at all against me,” replied Jesus, “except what was given to you from above. And for that reason the one who handed me over to you is even more guilty than you are.”

From that moment, Pilate tried hard to set him free but the Jews were shouting, “If you set this man free, you are no friend of Caesar! Anyone who makes himself out to be a king is anti-Caesar!”

When Pilate heard this, he led Jesus outside and sat down upon the Judgment-seat in the place called the Pavement (in Hebrew, Gabbatha). It was preparation day of the Passover and it was now getting on towards midday. Pilate said to the Jews, “Look, here’s your king!”

At which they yelled, “Take him away, take him away, crucify him!”

Am I to crucify your king? Pilate asked them. “Caesar is our king and no one else,” replied the chief priests.

And at this Pilate handed Jesus over to them for crucifixion.

Poetry & Poet:
“What He Thought” 
by Heather McHugh

for Fabbio Doplicher

We were supposed to do a job in Italy
and, full of our feeling for
ourselves (our sense of being
Poets from America) we went
from Rome to Fano, met
the mayor, mulled
a couple matters over (what's
a cheap date, they asked us; what's
flat drink). Among Italian literati

we could recognize our counterparts:
the academic, the apologist,
the arrogant, the amorous,
the brazen and the glib—and there was one

administrator (the conservative), in suit
of regulation gray, who like a good tour guide
with measured pace and uninflected tone narrated
sights and histories the hired van hauled us past.
Of all, he was the most politic and least poetic,
so it seemed. Our last few days in Rome
(when all but three of the New World Bards had flown)
I found a book of poems this
unprepossessing one had written: it was there
in the pensione room (a room he'd recommended)
where it must have been abandoned by
the German visitor (was there a bus of them?)
to whom he had inscribed and dated it a month before.
I couldn't read Italian, either, so I put the book
back into the wardrobe's dark. We last Americans

were due to leave tomorrow. For our parting evening then
our host chose something in a family restaurant, and there
we sat and chatted, sat and chewed,
till, sensible it was our last
big chance to be poetic, make
our mark, one of us asked
                                     "What's poetry?"
Is it the fruits and vegetables and
marketplace of Campo dei Fiori, or
the statue there?" Because I was

the glib one, I identified the answer
instantly, I didn't have to think—"The truth
is both, it's both," I blurted out. But that
was easy. That was easiest to say. What followed
taught me something about difficulty,
for our underestimated host spoke out,
all of a sudden, with a rising passion, and he said:

The statue represents Giordano Bruno,
brought to be burned in the public square
because of his offense against
authority, which is to say
the Church. His crime was his belief
the universe does not revolve around
the human being: God is no
fixed point or central government, but rather is
poured in waves through all things. All things
move. "If God is not the soul itself, He is
the soul of the soul of the world." Such was
his heresy. The day they brought him
forth to die, they feared he might
incite the crowd (the man was famous
for his eloquence). And so his captors
placed upon his face
an iron mask, in which

he could not speak. That's
how they burned him. That is how
he died: without a word, in front
of everyone.
                     And poetry—
                                      (we'd all
put down our forks by now, to listen to
the man in gray; he went on
softly)—
                  poetry is what

he thought, but did not say.

LEAD ME TO CALVARY

A blessed Holy Thursday! In Western churches that incorporate liturgical practices, the Maundy Thursday service is solemn and stark. It entails Holy Communion and recalls Christ’s last supper with his disciples where he instituted the Eucharist. Throughout the service, appropriate Scripture readings and contemplative music abound. The evening concludes with the ancient ceremony of Stripping the Altar, which involves the removal of all objects from the front of the church and then shrouding the altar, crosses, or crucifixes in black fabric. This is done in a stately manner and in absolute silence as the congregation looks on. The lights are dimmed, and a hushed, ominous stillness ensues. Congregants exit the church quietly, in prayer and sober reflection. This ritual symbolizes the humiliation the King of Glory endured at the hands of his sadistic tormentors.

On Holy Thursday in the East, a completely different kind of ceremony takes place. The church is dark except for a few candles. During the three-hour service all twelve accounts of Christ’s passion are read aloud in a marathon style, harmony of the Gospels event. At the end of these readings, candles are extinguished, and the priest circles the periphery of the darkened church carrying an almost life-sized cross on his shoulders. As he processes around the congregation, he sings, “Today He who hung the earth upon the waters is hung on a tree.” When he reaches the center of the worship space, he places the cross upright in a stand, and then each congregant in turn prostrates before the cross in deep humility, reflecting on the awful cost Christ paid for their personal salvation. Many brush away tears as they silently leave the sanctuary.

The worshippers described above have in their have their own unique ways of entering into the gravitas of Christ's passion with their whole beings. Whether from a Western or Eastern perspective, the events that took place in Jerusalem on that first Holy Thursday evening and the following Good Friday morning should play a crucial role in any Christian’s heartfelt remembrance of Christ’s profound sacrifice for the world. We cannot be reminded often enough of our suffering Savior’s incredible gift to humankind.

In today’s scripture reading Pontius Pilate enters into conversation with Christ. The great Baroque composer, Johann Sebastian Bach set our text to music in his masterful Oratorio, St. John’s Passion, which was premiered at a Good Friday service in 1724. At the outset it seems that Pilate has more than he bargained for in trying to sort out what he should do with Jesus. Ultimately Pilate must decide whether to honor Christ’s kingship or hand him over to the angry mob. But first this “King of the Jews” must be tortured.

The Prophet Isaiah writes in Isaiah 52:13, “So marred from the form of man was his aspect, that his appearance was not as that of a son of a man.” Dr. David Terasaka, a medical doctor, describes the pummeling Christ received, “During a flogging, a victim was tied to a post, leaving his back entirely exposed. The Romans used a whip which consisted of small pieces of bone and metal attached to a number of leather strands. During the flogging, the skin was stripped from the back, exposing a bloody mass of muscle and bone. Extreme blood loss occurred from this beating, weakening the victim perhaps to the point of being unconscious.” Terasaka suggests that the crown of thorns probably covered his entire head with two-inch spikes and when further blows were administered by the soldiers, “the thorns were driven into the scalp (one of the most vascular areas of the body) and forehead, causing [additional] severe bleeding.”

The masterfully carved marble sculpture, He was Sentenced to Death by Korean artist Jang Dong-ho almost takes one’s breath away, it is so visceral. The artist depicts Christ after his beating, with a battered and bloated continence––the crown of thorns convincingly planted into his flesh. Jang’s incredible, frenetically etched line work has the intricacy of an old-world engraving, while the figure’s crude, gouged out rawness creates a primal feeling akin to that of the most formidable of political effigies. At the same time horrific and serene, one senses in Jang’s representation what Pilate felt and feared, that truly this Jesus was the Son of God—the King of Kings and Lord of Lords.

Even in his beaten condition Christ has total control over everything that is taking place. “So, Pilate said to him, ‘Won’t you speak to me? Don’t you realize that I have the power to set you free, and I have the power to have you crucified?’ ‘You have no power at all against me,’ replied Jesus, ‘except what was given to you from above.’ From that moment, Pilate tried hard to set him free.”

Early in his career as governor, Pilate deeply offended the Jewish populace when he smuggled images of the Roman emperor (who claimed to be divine) into Jerusalem in the middle of the night—an unconscionable, idolatrous act in the minds of the Judean authorities. Now, these same two-faced religious critics are embracing their much hated dictator by riling up the mob and screaming, “Crucify Him!” “Caesar is our king and no one else.” Reluctantly Pilate relents, sending Christ to his death.

And the primary question that emerges from this passage is, what will you do with Jesus? Will you hallow him as the King of your life? Will you allow him to be your Master?

Prayer:
Lord and King,
I crown Thee now—Thine shall the glory be;
Lest I forget Thy thorn-crowned brow, lead me to Calvary.
May I be willing, Lord, to bear daily my cross for Thee;
Even Thy cup of grief to share—Thou hast borne all for me.
Lest I forget Gethsemane, lest I forget Thine agony,
Lest I forget Thy love for me, Lead me to Calvary.
Amen.
   –––Jeannie Evelyn Hussey

Barry Krammes
Artist
Professor Emeritus, Art Department
Biola University

For more information about the artwork, music, and poetry selected for this day, we have provided resources under the “About” tab located next to the “Devotional” tab.