“Have thou nothing to do with this just man; for I have suffered many things this day in a dream because of him” were the words that I Claudia Procula , wife of the Roman governor of Judea, Pontius Pilate, sent to him when hearing that Jesus of Nazareth would come before him for trial.

Feeling somewhat apprehensive but assured that my husband would be fair, I sat to read and dozed into a light slumber. I was aroused with the thunderous shouts of Barabbas, Barabbas. Was Barabbas not the insurrectionist, murderer and robber that had been captured just this morning?

A chill overtook my body with a feeling of foreboding as I reached for my cloak. Then I recalled from my studies of the ancient writing of the Jews it was customary to release a prisoner before the Jewish Passover Feast.

Drawing closer to the judgment room, I heard my husband ask, “Do you want me to release to you the king of the Jews?’ Once more the crowd incited by the chief priests and elders of the Sanhedrin shouted Barabbas, Barabbas. “What do you want me to do with the man you call the king of the Jews?”

“Crucify him, Crucify him.”

Pilate hesitated perhaps recalling my words of caution and asked, “Why? What evil has he done?”

The shouts grew louder, filled with rage and vengeance as they once again responded, “Crucify him, Crucify him!”

I watched as the feeling of helplessness shown on my husband’s face. As Roman governor wishing to satisfy the crowd, he released Barabbas and sentenced Jesus to be scourged and crucified.

My blood ran cold. How could this happen? Just a few days ago while standing on this very balcony I witness a joyous occasion. This holy man whom his followers called Rabbi was seated on an ass and lead into the city of Jerusalem with joyous cries waving palms and olive branches. They chanted: “Hosanna! Hosanna in the highest!”

Trembling with disbelief and rage, my thoughts turned to his faithful followers whom I without my husband’s knowledge sat among them listening to the Rabbi teaching of kindness, forgiveness and love. I heard him teach of the One True God and of his kingdom that was not of this world. I watched as he gathered the children about him with a radiance of love showing on his face. I listened as stories of his healing of the sick, lame and blind were told. Each time I sat, listened and watched among his followers a feeling of peace and hope enfolded me.

My thoughts were interrupted by my faithful servant Damaris, a follower of Jesus, who was my companion to the gatherings. The look in his eyes told me that he must go and follow Jesus on his sorrowful way. Just as he turned to leave, I called, “Wait, Damaris, I will come too.”

We made our way to the Via Dolorosa where the crowds were jeering, shouting, cursing and spitting at Jesus. I could not believe my eyes. This holy man who preached love and forgiveness was carrying a heavy, wooden cross on which he would be crucified. His strength was waning, blood covered his face and on his head was placed a crown made of thorns. The Roman soldiers had beaten him relentlessly.

We were almost at the place where he fell from weakness. The soldiers yanked him to his feet and once again placed the heavy cross on his shoulders. Step by step he struggled on his way. Step by step his mother who was in the crowd struggled with him. If anything beautiful could be seen in this hideous injustice it was when Jesus came face to face with his mother. She in her sorrow and he in his pain looked into each other eyes and the feeling of their love of the years shared as mother and son was plainly seen.

Jesus was growing weaker. The Roman soldiers feared he would die along the way. I watched as they pulled from the crowd a tall rugged looking man who protested he was from Cyrene and only passing through the city with his sons. The soldier shouted “obey or die!” The man called Simon looked with compassion on Jesus as the cross was lifted to his shoulder.

The crowd moved in a mass shoving and pushing in pace with Jesus scorning him to move faster. Was there no pity or humanity in this crowd? It was then a young woman dressed in finer clothing stepped in front of Jesus. Removing the veil from her head she gently wiped the blood and dust from his face. Jesus reached out to touch this kindly woman as a soldier pushed her back into the crowd. Damaris recognized her as a secret follower called Veronica.

The day was beginning to darken as we drew closer to Calvary the place of the crucifixion. I felt drained of energy and spirit and could not continue up the hill. I did not see them strip him of his clothing or place him on the cross. The blows of the hammer cruelly nailing him to the cross vibrated in my ears. I covered them with my hands. A loud thud that shook my being followed and I knew Jesus was hanging on the cross.

Turning to Damaris, we began our journey back to the palace.

Seeing me safely home, he returned to stand silently and pray with his followers.

I sat alone, weary, and sorrowful. While deep in thought, the skies became completely darkened and a furious wind swept through the city. Lightning flashed across the sky, thunder hammered, people in fright ran for cover.

A deafening silence of remorse filled the palace, silence of guilt filled the city and the silence of hope and faith filled the followers in Jesus of Nazareth’s promise that he would rise from the dead on the third day to bring salvation to the world.

He kept His promise. “Alleluia!”

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