The Crucifixion and Death of Jesus

A meditation

The sky has gone gold. Not blue, not dark — gold, the way it is when a thing has passed out of time altogether. And against the gold, the cross, and on it, him.

Look at the angels. They are flying close around the cross with small cups held out, catching the blood as it falls — from his hands, from his side, from his feet. Nothing is being wasted. Heaven has come down to the foot of the cross to gather every drop.

Now look below. Horses, soldiers, spears — the business of an execution going on as usual. A man on a horse looks up. Most do not. And at the bottom, at the very foot of the cross, the ones who stayed: his mother, fallen back into the arms of the women, her face gone white. Someone in rose with her hands over her face. A skull on the ground, because this is the hill of the skull.

She stayed. That is what you are looking at. Through the trial and the road and the nailing and the hours, she did not leave. She could not do anything — there was nothing to be done — and she stayed anyway, until it was finished.

That is perseverance. Not strength; she has none left, you can see it. Only the refusal to go home while he is still there.

Stand with the women at the foot of the cross. Do not look away, and do not leave. He is saying *it is finished* — and in the gold, the angels are still catching every drop.