He was nearly unconscious. All he could hear were muffled roars like distant thunder and he knew they were the people. His own people roaring for his blood. He couldnot see them. The blood caked on his eyes didnot allow vision.
He had been pushed down, on to something which felt like wood. Rough wood. The back of his head hit the wood hard and he winced. No sound escaped the clots on puffed lips. They had taken too many blows to feel such trivial pain.
He knew what was about to come. He wondered about the meaning of himself. Why? Why? There was no answer. The silence of eternity muffled the noises around him.
He felt the cold touch of the nail on his hand. Almost like a caress. he knew what would happen next. The kiss of the nail as it penetrated into his soul. But he was tranquil. He could feel no pain. Eli, why? I do not question you. But why?
The noises vanished, the sun and the sky disapperaed. There was only one reality-the burning in his hands. What is that? He realized instanlty-the cross. The first nail into the cross thorugh my hand. But why is there no pain ! Only the heavy ache of the metal forcing itself into his thin hand. The bones of the wrist were being crushed and he knew this. It is in the right hand. He realized with surprise that it hadn't occured to him till then- which hand would be the first to recieve the blessed nail. Here is the answer, he thought, it is the right hand which is crushed and nailed first.
He turned to look at the faithful hand which had held the staff for ... for how long? for eternity? Goodbye my friend, he wispered silently. You have served your purpose and I thank you. He tried to raise his left hand. But already it had been nailed into the wood. And I never even felt it ! He was amazed.Glory to you, my Father!