Fr. Patrick Nogoy, SJ
April 14, 2019
It is supposed to happen. At some point. But there is this one last job. To feed the children and finally flee. But reckoning has finally caught up with me. I have been running and getting away with it. I am tired of running and my time has come.
Each lash from the whip, I thought of my children. But also those children who went ill and starving because of my own doing. Life is a cruel. What options do I have? But I deserve it. Each whip. Each step I take carrying my ultimate sentence–the cross.
Hanging, I held my breath. I see all these people. Some of them belong to the families I have hurt. I am sorry. In a moment, it will be all over. Everything will be paid in full. Hopefully, God would spare me tragedies in the next life. If there is a God that is merciful. If there is indeed a God.
As I breathed, ready to go, I saw Him being pulled up. His head is bleeding from a crown of thorns. His swollen face is filled with spat. He has taken much beating. I took a good look.
Wait! I know this man! I saw Him with flocks of people with mostly the sick and outcasts. He touched them unafraid of their uncleanliness. He called some of them his disciples. He told them that there is a God who has not forgotten them. I even heard that He fed this huge hungry crowd with a few fish and pieces of bread. I was attracted once and drew near. He told this story of a father who welcomes this son who ran away and spent all his inheritance. He said that the God is like that father. Waiting for those who ran away. Eager to welcome those who desire to come home. “It is too good to be true!” I said. For we were taught differently. That rituals, laws, and these ablutions in the Temple are the things that please the Just God. I turned away.
“Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us as well!” The other guy mocked. We were together in one job once. We know nothing of the Christ.
I looked at the sentence on top of his head: “Jesus the Nazarene, King of the Jews” Jesus. What crime did he commit? He does not look like a king. No robe. No soldiers. Only a crown of thorns. Wounds from lashes. A cross to boast. He did not steal or kill anybody. He only fed the hungry and consoled those who were good for nothing. He only taught about God as a Father who seeks and heals the lost. Are these crimes now? I could not understand this cruelty. He does not deserve this!
“Have you no fear of God at all? You got the same sentence as he did, but in our case we deserved it: we are paying for what we did. This man has done nothing wrong!” I shouted.
And then Jesus looked at me. And this time, I allowed Him to see through. Yes. You have done, nothing wrong! I said in my heart. But then, in another heartbeat, I said to Him that I am tired of running. That I want to come home. Right there, I felt it! I want to come home!
“Jesus! Remember me when you come in your kingdom!”
He breathed deeply and spoke: “Indeed, I promise you, today you will be with me in paradise.”
Paradise. Today. Together. I promise.
Home. Now. With Me.
It is too good to be true! But maybe. Just maybe, it is true. I am not much of a believer because life’s cruelty. But this man. He truly believes. Despite the violent thorns and wounds. In spite of the abandonment and absence of God and man. In His dying breath, He clings to a God who seeks and comforts those who are lost.
This is not supposed to happen. Life is only to be measured by the cruel stick of justice. But here He is. Without asking for anything, He offers me to come home with Him. I don’t deserve Him. This world does not deserve Him.
And He looked at me again:
Paradise. Today. Together. I promise.
Home. Now. With Me.
In my last breath, I took a final leap: I do, Jesus!
I am going home now. With Him. Coming home, at last!