Killing tha Son

Finding Jesus

Killing tha Son

In tha beginning, fer thar be anything, there whar tha Word. In fact, tha Word whar with Skipper, and tha Word be Skipper. Tha Word be with Skipper from tha get go.

Through tha Word all things be made. Not a thing be made without tha Word. In tha Word be life, and that life be tha light of ever feller and lass. Tha light shines in ter tha darkness, and tha darkness ‘as run up that white flag. (John 1:1-4)

One time tha Son said ter Phillip, “Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father. (John 14:9)” He also told his disciples, “I and the Father are one.” (John 10:30)

When tha time came fer tha Son ter trudge up ter Tha Place of tha Skull ter be executed, most likely his disciples still not ‘ave a clue as ter his true identify. Some called him tha Messiah, and they be right. Some called him tha Son of Man—tha second Adam—and they be right. Some called him tha Son of Skipper. Right again. But hardly any see him as Skipper himself. Such a thing be ter hard ter conceive.

It still seems far ter high over our head ter ponder: God sending his Spirit ter hover over Mary so she could bear tha Son of Skipper, which be Skipper himself. Jest don’ make no sense. But that be tha way this tale starts and ends: with tha Son thar with Skip at tha beginning, coming as a man in tha form of Skipper’s Son, and going back home ter Skipper.

Around noon on tha day of Preparation Pilate had a notice prepared and fastened ter a cross of two beams that read: JESUS OF NAZARETH, THE KING OF THE JEWS. Pilate made sure tha sign be written in Aramaic, Latin, and Greek so all could see tha conclusion of tha Son’s life on earth.

On Pilate’s orders tha company of soldiers, between one hundred and two hundred, marched him up ter a place called Tha Place of tha Skull. A feller coming in from tha country happened by at jest the wrong time. Tha soldiers order him ter pick up tha cross beam of tha Son and carry it behind Skip’s boy. No doubt at this point tha Son be hardly able ter walk, so beaten down whar he. A large number of folks followed, including women who mourned and wailed.

Now ‘fore they nailed tha Son ter tha beam four soldiers stripped him of his clothes. Each got one item but tha Son’s undergarment be a seamless, woven pair of skivvies so they cast lots fer it.

Once he reached tha top of Tha Place of tha Skull and Simon, tha chap who be forced ter carry tha Son’s beam, dropped it on ter tha ground, some soldiers shoved tha Son in ter tha dirt. A few others flipped him on ter his back and spread out his arms on that rough, wooden spar. Thar they offered tha Son wine ter drink mixed with gall, a bitter-tasting substance, and myrrh so as ter deaden tha pain. Now ya may recall when he be born, some kings rode up from a far away land and give Mary myrrh—a type of embalming oil and a symbol of death—fer her new baby. No doubt now she seen how that gift be a foreshadowing of tha way her firstborn would die. When offered this concoction though, tha Son refused ter take a drink.

Right after this them soldiers tied tha Son’s wrists ter tha beam, fixed it in a notch on a taller poll, drove nails through his wrists, and planted that poll so as ter hang him upright. Then they drove nails through his feet ter hold’em in place.

Those who passed by tha Son hurled insults at him, shaking their heads, saying stuff like, “You who are going to destroy the temple and build it in three days, save yourself! Come down from the cross, if you are the Son of God!” In the same way the chief priests, the teachers of the law and the elders mocked him. “He saved others,  let him save himself if he is God’s Messiah, the Chosen One. But he can’t save! And he’s the king of Israel! Let him come down now from the cross, and we will believe in him. He trusts in God. Let God rescue him now if he wants him, for he said, ‘I am the Son of God.'”

Two convicted, rebellious robbers whar staked in ter tha ground next ter tha Son, one on his right and one on his left. One of tha robbers joined in on tha mocking and hurled insults at tha Son. “Aren’t you the Christ? Save yourself! Save us!” Tha other convict rebuked him, saying, “Don’t you fear God? You are under the same sentence. We are punished justly for we are getting what our deeds deserve, but this man has done nothing wrong.”

Near tha cross stood his mother, his mother’s sister, Mary tha wife of Clopas, Salome, Mary Magdelene, Mary tha mother of James tha younger and of Joses. Many other women showed up ter see tha Son executed.

Now beginning with tha Afternoon Watch from ’bout noon time ’till three, darkness came over the whole land fer tah sun stopped shining. ‘Bout thee in tha afternoon tha Son cried out in a loud voice, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” His words be those from Psalm (22:1). No doubt them smart Pharisees, chief priests, the teachers of the law and the elders would ‘ave known tha next line: ” Why are you so far from saving me, so far from my cries of anguish?” and they would ‘ave silently quoted Psalm 22 while tha Son hung thar, dying.

My God, I cry out by day, but you do not answer,
by night, but I find no rest.

Yet you are enthroned as the Holy One;
you are the one Israel praises.

In you our ancestors put their trust;
they trusted and you delivered them.

To you they cried out and were saved;
in you they trusted and were not put to shame.

But I am a worm and not a man,
scorned by everyone, despised by the people.

All who see me mock me;
they hurl insults, shaking their heads.

“He trusts in the Lord,” they say,
“let the Lord rescue him.

Let him deliver him,
since he delights in him.”

Yet you brought me out of the womb;
you made me trust in you, even at my mother’s breast.

From birth I was cast on you;
from my mother’s womb you have been my God.

Do not be far from me,
for trouble is near
and there is no one to help.

Finally tha Son said, “I am thirsty. A jar of wine vinegar sat close by, so a feller soaked a sponge in it, put tha sponge on tha stalk of a hyssop plant, and lifted it ter tha Son’s lips. After tha Son received tha drink he said, “It is finished. Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” When he had said this, he bowed his head, breathed his last, and gave up his ghost.

Tha Son of Skipper, tha very person of Skipper in tha form of a man, be dead.

We ‘ave done it; ’cause of our sin-filled ways we ‘ave killed Skipper’s Son—a feller guilty of nothing but loving us ter tha end.