I may have posted this picture before, but I liken it to pulling out your Christmas decorations each year. If you’re like me, many of our Christmas ornaments hold special memories and immediately put me into a Christmas mood. This photograph has the same effect on me. It immediately helps me to understand the immense signifigance of what occurred on Good Friday, and the price Christ paid for our sins.
I took this picture in 1970. For those of you that do not recognize the location, the statue is a memorial that is in Saint Joseph’s Cemetery. It was erected years ago and is dedicated to the Pastor’s of Duquesne’s St. Joseph Church that are buried at its base. A storm was approaching at the time I took the photo and provided the cloud cover befitting the subject.
The Jewish high priests and elders of the Sanhedrin accused Jesus of blasphemy, arriving at the decision to put him to death. But first they needed Rome to approve of their death sentence, so Jesus was taken to Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor in Judea. Although Pilate found him innocent, unable to find or even contrive a reason to condemn Jesus, he feared the crowds and let them decide Jesus’ fate. Stirred by the Jewish chief priests, the crowds declared, “Crucify him!”
As was common, Jesus was publicly scourged, or beaten, with a leather-thonged whip before his crucifixion. Tiny pieces of iron and bone chips were tied to the ends of each leather thong, causing deep cuts and painful bruising. He was mocked, struck in the head with a staff and spit on. A prickly crown of thorns was placed on his head and he was stripped naked. Too weak to carry his cross, Simon of Cyrene was forced to carry it for him.
He was led to Golgotha where he would be crucified. As was the custom, before they nailed him to the cross, a mixture of vinegar, gall, and myrrh was offered. This drink was said to alleviate some of the suffering, but Jesus refused to drink it. Stake-like nails were driven through his wrists and ankles, fastening him to the cross where he was crucified between two convicted criminals.
The inscription above his head tauntingly read, “The King of the Jews.” On the cross Jesus hung for his final agonizing breaths, a period that lasted about six hours. During that time, soldiers cast lots for Jesus’ clothing, while people passed by shouting insults and scoffing. From the cross, Jesus spoke to his mother Mary and the disciple John. He also cried out to his father, “My God, my God, why have You forsaken Me?”
At that point, darkness covered the land. A little later, as Jesus gave up his spirit, an earthquake shook the ground, ripping the Temple veil in two from top to bottom. Matthew’s Gospel records, “The earth shook and the rocks split. The tombs broke open and the bodies of many holy people who had died were raised to life.”
It was typical at crucifixions for Roman soldiers to show mercy by breaking the criminal’s legs, thus causing death to come more quickly. But this night only the thieves had their legs broken, for when the soldiers came to Jesus, they found him already dead. Instead, they pierced his side. Before sunset, Jesus was taken down by Joseph of Arimathea and laid in a tomb according to Jewish tradition.
Thank you again for great writing and pictures. Your picture of the cross at St. Joseph is remarkable. It is also a landmark that I could see out of my bedroom window at my parent’s home in West Mifflin. We moved from Duquesne to West Mifflin and lived on Pennsylvania Avenue—just two blocks down from the Duquesne Annex Vol. Fire Dept. We used sled ride in St. Joseph Cementary, too!
Thank you for sharing your experiences and your faith. Have a Glorious Easter!
Thank you for a great followup to chocolate bunnies & jellybeans….does anyone else notice how very much the church(etc.etc.) is a part of your comments?? Even tho I’m not Catholic, I have, & I appreciate the fact that our churches & beliefs were a part of our upbringing in Duquesne (& W.Mifflin) – makes you wonder about today’s world.
Jim, they say a picture is worth a thousand words. This one’s worth more. I can recall how much more solemn a holiday Easter was than Christmas. The nuns at HNS reminded us, constantly. I can remember them taking us to church for the Stations of the Cross and shame on anyone who didn’t pay attention. Valuable lessons for us kids.