Jesus the Destroyer

 

 

 

Jesus the Destroyer

(INRI)

by Chris Roberts

 

And he fell from the sky onto Bethlehem a nova. His is the light of ten-thousand years come to burn. The people came to know in him tranquility amidst a troubled time. His is the power. Heart and mind were laid open before The Christ. Yet, at the last, I did not see him as the people did. His is the deadly ember that scorches the eye. I turn him away on the path, before the valley. And I am cleansed. Let Judea weep.

    

     The sweet smell of night washes across Galilee. In its wake follows a small guard of Roman soldiers. They tread quietly the streets, illuminated by a single torch. Presently they are required to walk single file through a narrow alley. Their sword scabbards scrape against the limestone walls and the sound disturbs a covey of doves from the roof above. The sharp flutter of wings echo inside the alley as the detachment enters a courtyard. They stop and wait a moment. Barabbas soon gives the signal. Swiftly they cross the cobbled yard and enter the house.

     The room is poorly lit and Jesus is led in. Two of his apostles, Peter and Judas, are brought before him and the Roman guard falls back. The room is cavernous and the soldiers soon disappear into the shadows. Peter’s gaze is met by Jesus and he too joins the soldiers cloaked in darkness. What is left are the eternal minutes that pass between Judas and The Christ.

     A slow dream falls, winds to cast them on opposite shores. The sallow branches of a fig tree circle behind Jesus. Soon he is joined by the Roman Prefect, Pontius Pilate. The rising forenoon sun serves to obscure them in secrecy. First it is a whisper that reaches across the river, a hollow echo sounding the air. “They will be the Jews that decide” says Pilate. Then it is called out to ring about the hillside. “And so it will be that they burn in the shadow of Calvary,” is the reply of Jesus. Their conspiratorial words boom in flight, splintering through Judas. He falls to his knees in the muck of the riverbank. And what flows past Judas is two thousand years of a people bourn on the deck of a vessel. This ship will find no port, the cursed fig tree its towering mainmast. It is the foreshadowed passage of Judea bounding about as if in the throes of a storm. Yet the river remains placid, bearing her weight silently. And Judas weeps.

     Always it is the eyes. Light within and without light. Unblinking. And Jesus draws Judas back to the house in Galilee. They step from the shadows and are all about him now. For a few seconds, he sees Peter among the Roman guards. Then it is the flash of white light circling Judas’ eyes, as Jesus breaks his neck. And it is done. Barabbas and Peter drag his body through the long room and out past the yard. At the rise of a small hill, Judas is hung from a tree.

     The sweet smell roar of blood washes over him. Weighted steps tread slowly on the dusty road to Calvary. Presently he falls before the jeering mob. The Roman detachment kicks him to his feet. They are all about him now. The sagging weight of the load rolls his shoulder loose and snaps it. Again he stumbles and his brow is wiped with the hem of a robe. As noon approaches, a flock of doves circle the pale sky. The signal is given and swiftly Jesus is nailed to the cross. On the third day he is brought home and martyred. And so it begins for the Jews.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(INRI)

by Chris Roberts

 

And he fell from the sky onto Bethlehem a nova. His is the light of ten-thousand years come to burn. The people came to know in him tranquility amidst a troubled time. His is the power. Heart and mind were laid open before The Christ. Yet, at the last, I did not see him as the people did. His is the deadly ember that scorches the eye. I turn him away on the path, before the valley. And I am cleansed. Let Judea weep.

    

     The sweet smell of night washes across Galilee. In its wake follows a small guard of Roman soldiers. They tread quietly the streets, illuminated by a single torch. Presently they are required to walk single file through a narrow alley. Their sword scabbards scrape against the limestone walls and the sound disturbs a covey of doves from the roof above. The sharp flutter of wings echo inside the alley as the detachment enters a courtyard. They stop and wait a moment. Barabbas soon gives the signal. Swiftly they cross the cobbled yard and enter the house.

    

     The room is poorly lit and Jesus is led in. Two of his apostles, Peter and Judas, are brought before him and the Roman guard falls back. The room is cavernous and the soldiers soon disappear into the shadows. Peter’s gaze is met by Jesus and he too joins the soldiers cloaked in darkness. What is left are the eternal minutes that pass between Judas and The Christ.

    

     A slow dream falls, winds to cast them on opposite shores. The sallow branches of a fig tree circle behind Jesus. Soon he is joined by the Roman Prefect, Pontius Pilate. The rising forenoon sun serves to obscure them in secrecy. First it is a whisper that reaches across the river, a hollow echo sounding the air. “They will be the Jews that decide” says Pilate. Then it is called out to ring about the hillside. “And so it will be that they burn in the shadow of Calvary,” is the reply of Jesus. Their conspiratorial words boom in flight, splintering through Judas. He falls to his knees in the muck of the riverbank. And what flows past Judas is two thousand years of a people bourn on the deck of a vessel. This ship will find no port, the cursed fig tree its towering mainmast. It is the foreshadowed passage of Judea bounding about as if in the throes of a storm. Yet the river remains placid, bearing her weight silently. And Judas weeps.

    

     Always it is the eyes. Light within and without light. Unblinking. And Jesus draws Judas back to the house in Galilee. They step from the shadows and are all about him now. For a few seconds, he sees Peter among the Roman guards. Then it is the flash of white light circling Judas’ eyes, as Jesus breaks his neck. And it is done. Barabbas and Peter drag his body through the long room and out past the yard. At the rise of a small hill, Judas is hung from a tree.

    

     The sweet smell roar of blood washes over him. Weighted steps tread slowly on the dusty road to Calvary. Presently he falls before the jeering mob. The Roman detachment kicks him to his feet. They are all about him now. The sagging weight of the load rolls his shoulder loose and snaps it. Again he stumbles and his brow is wiped with the hem of a robe. As noon approaches, a flock of doves circle the pale sky. The signal is given and swiftly Jesus is nailed to the cross. On the third day he is brought home and martyred. And so it begins for the Jews.