Cornerstone Magazine: Fall 2014 Volume III Issue II | Page 16

Father’s Fractal
Lauren Galvan ’16

Not for Sale
guards at the foot of the cross recognized the centurion and
called him over. With a last look at me, my companion went
to see what the other man wanted.
As quickly as it had appeared, my anger left me. What
had the centurion said, that the Jews had turned over Jesus
themselves? That sign was a joke then—it was the Romans
laughing; the irony of it! The crowds had turned over their
own savior. I remembered all the texts written by Jewish
prophets that had called my attention over the years. Isaiah
and Elijah had spoken of a savior. And my own master had
read the stars and the heavens and discerned that it was this
Jesus, born in a stable in Bethlehem, that would save the
Jews, and then save the world. How could it end like this?
On a cross?
“Do you need help?” a very tired voice asked me in
Aramaic. I looked up at the face of a clean-shaven young
man with the course clothing of a fisherman.
“No, but thank you,” I replied in the same language. I got
to my feet and looked back at the horrible sight before me. “I
just… wasn’t expecting to see him like that.”
“We thought…” the young man’s voice shook and he
swallowed hard, “We thought we were going to see the
Kingdom of God on earth. But…”
“We?” I asked gently.
“I am one of his apostles,” the young man explained.
“Was,” I corrected sadly.
“Am,” the youth said fiercely, eyes flashing through the
tears that began to fall. “This cannot end here. It will not end
here! It can’t…”
“John!” a young woman with red-eyes and tear-stains
on her cheeks came running. “John! He’s thirsty; he’s asking
for water. Do you have any?”
“No,” the young man—John—said anxiously.
“I can get some though. But how…”
“Look,” I said, amazement so intertwined in my voice
that they both looked instantly. It was my companion, the
young centurion. He had found a sponge, soaked it in wine,
mounted it on a spear, and raised it to Jesus’ chapped lips.
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The centurion lowered the spear and promptly got shoved in
the back by the other guard at the foot of the cross. There was
a brief argument in Latin as John, the woman, and I got closer
to the scene. Exasperated, the centurion approached me,
much to the alarm of the woman and John who took several
steps back.
“I don’t see anything wrong with giving him something
to drink,” the centurion grumbled to me. “And it wasn’t even
good wine… We should go, sir.”
“I’m going to stay,” I said firmly. He could tell that I
wouldn’t be persuaded. So he stepped back to join a group of
off-duty soldiers watching the crowd. I stood a bit apart from
John and the woman at the foot of the cross.
We didn’t wait long.
With an agonizing groan, Jesus lifted himself up with his
arms, looked up to the sky and gasped, “It is finished.”
And then he died.
Clouds covered the sun and the earth shook. They said
later that a veil in the Jewish Temple split in two. But all I knew
at the time, was that the Lord of the Jews was dead. And all
I could think was of that the baby in the stables…how could
he have only grown to die like this? I’d heard about this new
Jewish pr