The Crucifixion

The crucifixion to which Jesus Christ was condemned belongs to those inventions of inhuman cruelty for which the despots of the East were notorious, and stood as the last in the whole series of the most terrible executions. From the East it passed to Rome, and followed the conquerors of the world wherever they went, until it was abolished by Constantine the Great. The Jews had no crucifixion of their own; for certain crimes the law commanded that criminals be hanged on a tree, but they were not nailed to it, and the bodies had to be taken down for burial by the coming of evening. In Rome itself only slaves, who there were not counted as men, were crucified. Among the inhabitants of the provinces, only robbers and disturbers of the public peace were nailed to a cross. Crucifixion was, for the most part, preceded by scourging. It was carried out, like all other executions, outside cities and villages, in conspicuous places—on hills, for instance, or along main roads. The soldiers who carried out every execution among the Romans were also the ones who crucified. The condemned man had to carry his own cross to the place of execution, exposed all the while to mockery and blows. The cross was set up first, and only afterward was the criminal nailed to it—hence the expressions «to ascend, to be lifted up, raised upon the cross». The one being crucified was stripped of all his clothing, which passed into the soldiers’ keeping. There was no burial for the crucified. The bodies remained on the crosses and became prey to flesh-eating birds and animals, until they decayed. Sometimes, however, relatives were allowed to bury them. In case of need (the approach of a feast, a triumph, and the like), the lives of the crucified could, by law, be shortened: their legs were broken, or they could be smothered by smoke and heat from brushwood set alight beneath the cross, or killed by a blow to the head or heart, and so on.

The very appearance and structure of the cross, as far as one can gather from a careful comparison of all the most ancient testimonies, were as follows: the base of the cross was a straight post or beam, fixed in the ground. A crossbar was fastened to its upper part—sometimes right at the very top of the post, which is why the cross resembled the letter T, but more often somewhat below the top, at the level suited to the arms nailed to it, so that the post’s upper end, in Justin Martyr’s words, resembled a horn. In the middle (in medio) of the post was fixed another projection, likewise resembling a horn—a seat (sedile) to support the body, so that its own weight would not tear the hands apart and pull it free from the cross. Thus the cross, in St. Irenaeus’s words, had five ends: two in length, two in width, and one in the middle. Of a footrest, ancient writers before the sixth century make no mention anywhere; later testimonies are weak, and may be the result of a misunderstanding, for in speaking of a footrest they no longer speak of the seat—the latter may have been mistaken by them for the former. The hands, and sometimes the feet too, were nailed to the cross; besides this, the body of the crucified was often also bound to the post with ropes. At the top of the post, above the head of the crucified man, a small white tablet was nailed, on which his name and his crime were recorded in black letters. This tablet was sometimes carried ahead of the criminal to the place of execution, or he himself carried it around his own neck. Sometimes the written notice was replaced by a spoken one: for this, one of the soldiers had to shout aloud that so-and-so was being crucified for such-and-such a crime. The crosses were made low, so that the feet of the crucified were no more than three feet from the ground.

The Fathers of the Church compare the cross to a bird flying through the air with wings outstretched, to a man swimming or praying with arms extended, to the mast and yard of a ship, and the like. Since the evangelists say nothing to suggest that Jesus Christ’s cross differed in any way from ordinary crosses—nor was there any need for it to differ—one must, without any doubt, take it to have had the shape described above: that is, four-armed, or, counting the seat, five-armed.

The torments of the crucified were terrible. One must picture the unnatural posture of the body, arms stretched upward and nailed fast, in which the slightest movement, necessary for life itself, brought on a fresh, unbearable pain. The weight of the hanging body tore the wounds of the hands wider with every passing hour. The blood, robbed of its natural circulation, rushed to the head and heart, producing a dizziness and a faintness of heart more agonizing than death itself. The wretched man, gripped on every side by death, outlived himself and groaned in his torment for as long as three, and sometimes six or more, days. The cup of poison handed to Socrates by the hand it was handed by would have been the greatest of mercies compared to death by crucifixion.

Matched only by the torment of the crucified was their disgrace. The name cross-bearer (crucifer, cruciarius) was the ultimate expression of anger and contempt. The cruelest masters, for the grave crimes of their slaves, would order a cross-shaped yoke (furcam) placed upon them and paraded through the streets in this disgraceful state. This meant stripping the wretched man of the very name of man, and handing him over to universal contempt. For the Jews, crucifixion was especially abhorrent, because the law of Moses declares: cursed is everyone who hangs on a tree! For this very reason, the Lord’s own glorious resurrection, and the divine wonders that accompanied the apostles’ preaching about Him, could not, in unbelieving eyes, erase the disgrace of Christ’s cross; and it remained, as the apostle observes, a stumbling block to the Jews, and folly to the Greeks (1Cor 1:23). In general, crucifixion was so cruel and so shameful a death that Cicero himself could find no words to describe it, and demanded, in his country’s own name, that not only the body, but, if possible, the very sight and hearing, even the imagination, of a Roman citizen be kept free of the cross.

And it was this very execution that the Heavenly Father was pleased to choose for His only-begotten, beloved Son!!! Christian, remember this, and shun the sins for which the Son of God endured the cross, and by which, as the apostle assures us, He is crucified still (Hebr 6:6).

The mystery of iniquity, over which the prince of darkness himself had labored so busily (Jn 13:2, 27, 12:31), was already half accomplished: the Holy of Holies had been numbered with the lawless; it remained only to lift Him up on the cross, that He might «draw all things to Himself…» (Jn 12:32).

Among the Jews, if the Talmud is to be believed, there was a custom that a criminal condemned to death should not be executed immediately after sentencing. A herald was to proclaim his name, his offense, the witnesses to his crime, and the manner of execution appointed for him, several times before the whole people, calling on anyone able to come before the court and defend the unfortunate man. Among the Romans too there was a law, issued by Tiberius, by which the death sentence could not be carried out until ten days after judgment. But for Jesus Christ, though He was tried under both Roman and Jewish law, neither custom was observed. The delay in execution applied only to ordinary criminals; disturbers of the public peace, enemies of Moses and of Caesar, as slander had made Jesus Christ out to be, had no claim to this mercy: the sooner their execution was carried out, the more lawful it was held to be. And so, immediately after His condemnation, Jesus Christ was handed over to the soldiers, who among the Romans carried out every execution. Their first act was to strip Him of the purple robe and dress Him again in His own clothing: custom, and perhaps pity too, required this. The evangelists’ silence does not allow us to say for certain whether the crown of thorns was removed at this point, or remained on the Lord’s head until He was taken down from the cross. Yet the ancient custom of depicting Jesus Christ on the cross wearing the crown of thorns bears the marks of a genuine historical tradition. In its support one may note that the executioners had ample reason to leave the crown on the Lord’s head, since, by their own understanding of Him, it suited the occasion well, confirming what the inscription itself said.

Then the soldiers, as was customary, laid the cross upon Jesus Christ and led Him outside the city, to where executions were carried out. For such a procession the main streets were usually chosen, and it was deliberately drawn out as long as possible; but now the shortness of time allowed for not the slightest delay, since only a few hours remained before the paschal evening, which, if not as holy as the one before it, on which the Passover meal was eaten, was still more solemn and festive. Since, by law, the crucified could not be left on their crosses past midnight, and death by crucifixion, as we have seen, was a long one, Jesus Christ’s crucifixion would have had to be put off to another time—had it not been the custom, in special cases, to cut short the life of the crucified by a violent death. The Sanhedrin, for all its wish to prolong as long as possible the sufferings of its own personal enemy, was forced to resort to this means: otherwise, during the feast, it would have had to fear a popular uprising in Jesus Christ’s defense.

An extraordinary spectacle now unfolded! He whose discourses in the temple the people of Jerusalem had always listened to with delight, who seemed to command all nature, giving sight to the man born blind, casting out demons, raising the dead, to whom, only a few days before, honor had been shown as the Son of David, as King of Israel—now passed through the broad streets of Jerusalem between two criminals, dragging His heavy cross behind Him! Now, above all, the words Jesus Christ had once spoken of His own humbled state had to be fulfilled: «blessed is he who is not offended in Me» (Mt 11:6)!

«Is it possible (so many might have thought, even those who till now had hoped to see in Jesus Christ the Deliverer promised by the prophets)—is it possible that the Messiah should meet the fate Jesus meets now? Can one who cannot free himself from a shameful execution bring deliverance to the poor people of Israel? Are we not all deceived, hoping for the restoration of the kingdom of Israel, hoping for the coming of a strong and mighty Messiah? But this is what our fathers taught us; this, they say, is written in the Law and the Prophets. And why would all the prophets, centuries before, foretell the Messiah’s coming in such lofty terms, if the Messiah were to be a man such as Jesus now appears to be—if he were fated, having done nothing for a people groaning under the yoke of misfortune, to end his life in a shameful death? And what death? Crucifixion!.. ’Oh, cursed is everyone who hangs on a tree!’ No! Whatever anyone may say, this is a sign not of salvation but of a curse: surely God Himself has found something criminal in this Man».

So some might have thought. On the other hand, the wavering faith of Jesus’s followers had no small support of its own. Whoever had a heart sensitive to truth and virtue, familiar with the lofty feelings of faith and holy love, could not agree with the Pharisees and scribes, who painted Jesus Christ as a deceiver with unclean designs. «No! He did not deceive us, when He spoke with such sweetness of love for God and neighbor, when He opened before us the holy ways of Providence, and called us to imitate the faith and virtues of our forefathers; when our hearts burned with that pure rapture which the discourses of the Pharisees and scribes never once stirred in us. His conduct is wholly worthy of the Son of David. Had He sought earthly glory, how many occasions He had to act by force! Was it not His own humility and gentleness that let the Pharisees seize Him so easily? They have charged Him with sedition and treason, but this is plain slander, invented by the chief priests because He exposed the very vices from which we ourselves suffer. Did not Pilate himself declare Him innocent more than once, and, even in condemning Him, call Him the Righteous One? They have condemned Him to death by crucifixion, but He Himself, it is said, long ago foretold this very death, and said that it was ordained for Him by God Himself, to suffer for Israel’s salvation. We, listening to our own (blind) teachers, never expected events like these. But do we truly know the whole fate of the Messiah? Who has grasped the full meaning of the prophecies, in which He is also shown as suffering? Do not the scribes themselves contradict one another when they describe the person of the Messiah? Besides, not everything will end with His death. He has promised, it is said, to rise again after three days. Oh, if only that promise should come true!..»

Herod’s treatment of Jesus Christ no doubt reminded many of John the Baptist, whom he had put to death, and the memory of a John so widely honored and loved removed the offense that might otherwise come from Jesus’s cross, for everyone knew that John had acknowledged Him as the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world, and had held Him in such high regard that he counted himself unworthy even to serve Him as a slave (Jn 1:27).

Two criminals were led out to execution along with the Lord (Lk 23:32), likewise condemned to crucifixion, who, no doubt, carried their own crosses as well. An ancient tradition holds that one of these criminals was named Gestas, and the other Dismas. There is no reliable information about their crimes; it seems, however, that they belonged to Barabbas’s own company, and had taken part in the revolt and the killings it produced, since, as St. Mark notes (15:7), Barabbas’s own accomplices were in prison with him, and their fate was to be decided before the feast—by crucifixion, judging from the nature of their crime.

A great multitude of people followed the condemned men (Lk 23:27). Executions during the feasts were, for devout Jews—and very many were becoming such at this time—an unpleasant and repugnant thing. But the execution of the Prophet of Galilee, in whom many had hoped to see the Messiah, drew everyone irresistibly. And by now it had become known to all Jerusalem, which held several hundred thousand inhabitants during the Passover.

The Lord did not speak with the crowd. There had been a time for those who have ears to hear; now it remained for those who have eyes to see. The very bearing of the cross, and His own exhaustion, kept Him from speaking, still more before so noisy a crowd.

The pitiful cries and wailing of some women, however, drew the Lord out of His silence. These were not His closest female disciples, whom we shall see at Golgotha, and to whom what was now about to be said could not have applied; but, in part, women of Jerusalem—perhaps mothers of the children who had sung Him «hosanna»—and, in part, others who had come from all over Judea for the feast. Nothing could keep them from tears at the sight of Jesus, sinking under the weight of the cross: not the presence of the Sanhedrin’s foremost men, who burned with hatred toward the Lord and toward anyone devoted to Him, nor the fear of being taken by the people for accomplices in the crimes charged to the Prophet of Galilee—they gave themselves over openly to all the grief that sensitive, inconsolable hearts are capable of…

For the Lord, who had promised not to forget even a cup of cold water given in His name (Mt 10:42), the women’s compassion could not be without meaning. But the death to which He was going was far above the ordinary tears of compassion: all the tribes of Israel would have cause to weep and mourn—only not for what these women were weeping.

«Daughters of Jerusalem!» — the Lord said, turning to them — «do not weep for Me; weep instead for yourselves, and for your children».

(Such a strange command not to weep for Him, when He, sinking beneath the cross, was going to a plain and agonizing death, could only be fully understood after Jesus Christ’s Resurrection; but the counsel to weep for themselves and their children even now let the women, and everyone else, understand the vast difference between the feelings of Jesus Christ—who, even in this state, did not set aside thought and concern for the present, and still more the future, fate of Jerusalem’s children—and the callousness of the chief priests, who, before Pilate, had so recklessly called down the Righteous One’s blood upon their own countrymen.)

«For behold» — the Lord continued — «the days are coming when they will say: blessed are the barren, the wombs that never bore, and the breasts that never nursed. Then they will begin to say to the mountains, fall on us; and to the hills, cover us. For if they do this to the green tree, what will be done to the dry?» (Lk 23:29-31.)

It was impossible to depict the calamities threatening Jerusalem more forcefully. Childlessness was reckoned among the Jews the heaviest misfortune and a punishment from God: and so, to come to the point of envying the childless meant to fall into utter despair. So too the prophets had spoken (Hos 10:8; Is 2:10-19; Rev 6:16), when, in the name of the God of Israel, they threatened Israel for its transgressions. But this threat was uttered by the Son of Man without any feeling of personal indignation against His ungrateful countrymen. He does not say that the days are coming when you, who sent Me to execution, «will say»; He says simply: «they will say», touching not at all on His own personal enemies. The highest degree of self-forgetfulness makes Him forget all His own suffering, and He forbids weeping for Himself; but a true feeling of love for His poor country moves Him not to conceal the terrible evils awaiting it, as a warning to those who might still heed the truth. This was the last sermon of repentance the Jewish people heard from the lips of their Messiah, spoken with the tenderest feeling of love for His neighbors. Wars, famine, plagues, and the other calamities that followed, leading up to the destruction of Jerusalem, did indeed fall with their full weight on pregnant women and nursing mothers. So too, before this, in describing these calamities to His disciples, the Lord had singled out especially the fate of women with child: «but woe to those who are nursing in those days» (Lk 21:23; Mk 13:17; Mt 24:19)!

The words: «if they do this to the green tree (to Me), what will be done to the dry» (to the Jewish people)—carry much, a great deal that is terrible, for the Jewish people. But even in these words there is no personal indignation at all. This was a proverb constantly passed from mouth to mouth; and when could it have been used more fittingly than now, for the instruction of everyone alike? If the leaders of the Jewish people—the chief priests, Pharisees, and scribes—are compared here to a dry tree (a common symbol, in the prophets, for the wicked), this comparison had already been spoken with even greater force by the lips of John the Baptist, when a solemn delegation from the Sanhedrin asked him whether he was the Messiah (Mt 3:10).

At the time when Jesus Christ was thus warning His countrymen for the last time, His words were probably received with love by only a few. But at the destruction of Jerusalem, which took place some years later, even the Lord’s most stubborn enemies must have remembered them. One cannot read the accounts of the calamities that then befell the Jewish people without a shudder. The state of mothers was such that some of them resolved to slaughter their own children for food… Then the rocks and caves of Palestine, which had served as the Jews’ usual refuge in time of war, became, as the Lord now foretold, tombs for many thousands of unfortunate people, who indeed called down death upon themselves as their last comfort.

As they drew near the city gates, Jesus Christ grew so weak that He could no longer carry His cross, and, as ancient tradition relates, sank beneath it. Whether it was the humanity of the Roman centurion in charge of the execution, or the inhumanity of the Jews, who feared that the victim of their malice might die before the execution, the soldiers resolved to help Jesus and, contrary to custom, to lay His cross on another. Providence lost no time in sending a man for this purpose—a certain Simon, by birth or by surname a Cyrenian, who, returning from the fields, met the guard leading Jesus, at the very moment they were coming out of the city. The soldiers at once «seized» him, and «compelled» him to carry Jesus’s cross—a burdensome task, and, under the present circumstances, an extremely disgraceful one; and so it seems a plausible guess of some that Simon was among Jesus Christ’s followers, and, on meeting Him, gave some sign of compassion, on account of which the soldiers, either on their own or on the Jews’ advice, resolved to lay the cross on him. At any rate, three evangelists (Mt 27:32; Mk 15:21; Lk 23:26) thought it worthwhile, not without reason, to hand down to posterity the name and origin of the man who carried the Lord’s cross, and the reason for this should be sought in the fact that Simon carried the cross not out of mere compulsion, but out of love for the One crucified upon it; or in the fact that he later came to know the full worth of Jesus’s cross, and carried it for the rest of his life. St. Mark also mentions that Simon was the father of Alexander and Rufus, who, at least at the time Mark’s Gospel was written, were numbered among the Christians and were known to everyone for their virtues: otherwise the mention of them would have made no sense at all. Rufus is evidently the very one whom the apostle Paul, in his letter to the Romans (16:13), calls chosen in the Lord, and whose memory he honored so much that he called his mother his own mother. Of such a household was Simon the head—a man granted by Providence the highest and most singular honor of sharing with the Lord the weight of His own cross!..

So that no one, seeing Simon carrying the cross, might think that he himself had been condemned to crucifixion, the soldiers, having laid the cross on him, made Jesus Christ walk directly ahead of him. This new arrangement, though bringing Him some relief, could at the same time give Jesus’s enemies fresh occasion for slander and mockery. It seemed as though Providence had deliberately gathered together, at Jesus’s cross, everything that could be most agonizing and most disgraceful, so that the Author of mankind’s salvation might come to know it all by His own experience.

At last they reached Golgotha, or the Place of the Skull. This was the name of one of the hilly, northwestern heights near Jerusalem, where executions were carried out, and which was, from this time on, to become the most sacred place on the face of the earth. An ancient tradition of the Jewish Church held that the head of Adam had been buried on this hill; and now, over that head, the cleansing blood of the second Adam was to be poured out. Here too Abraham had lifted the sacrificial knife over his only-begotten Isaac; and now, over the only-begotten Son of God, was actually to take place what, in Isaac, had served only as a foreshadowing of what was to come.

Meanwhile, as the soldiers were setting up and fixing the crosses in place, Jesus Christ was given, by ancient custom, a drink made of wine mixed with myrrh. Such a mixture, by clouding the mind, made the sufferings of the crucified somewhat less agonizing. Judging by the fact that Jesus Christ’s followers included quite a few people of considerable wealth and devotion, one might have expected the drink offered Him to be pleasant, or at least not repugnant; instead, it was bitter as gall, and sour as vinegar. This circumstance suggests that the drink was prepared by Jesus Christ’s enemies, and that the myrrh and wine used were of the very worst quality.

Might not real gall and vinegar even have been added to it? The inhumanity of Jesus’s enemies makes this quite possible, and St. Matthew’s words support this thought (Mt 27:34). In that case, to reconcile the evangelists, one should suppose that some offered the Lord wine mixed with myrrh, as St. Mark mentions, while others—His enemies—gave Him vinegar mixed with gall to drink, as Matthew relates. There is, however, no particular need to assume that the evangelists are speaking of two different drinks: for the word St. Matthew uses does not mean vinegar alone, but any sour substance, and in particular, poor, soured wine—which was, no doubt, what was given to criminals. Likewise, gall denotes any bitter substance, especially myrrh, which among the Jews was itself called bitterness. And so, in Theophylact’s words, vinegar with gall in St. Matthew means the same thing as wine with myrrh in St. Mark: for the wine could be called vinegar for its very sour taste, and the myrrh gall, because it is exceedingly bitter. Blessed Augustine understood the evangelists’ accounts in exactly this way in his own time, basing himself, among other things, on the most ancient Syriac translation of Matthew’s Gospel, where, instead of gall, stands a word meaning bitterness in general. St. Matthew, in substituting gall for myrrh and vinegar for wine, no doubt had in mind the words of David’s psalm (in the translation of the Seventy): «they gave gall for My food, and in My thirst they gave Me vinegar to drink» (Ps 89:22).

The Lord took the cup of drink in His hands, but, having tasted it, gave it back. A cup of cold water He would perhaps have drunk, since the prolonged exhaustion in which He now found Himself had brought on thirst; but a drink that dulled the senses was unworthy of the One who alone, for all, was drinking the cup of God’s wrath. Despite the cruelty of the torments awaiting Him on the cross, the Son of Man wished to endure them all in full possession of His senses. There was either no other refreshing drink without myrrh, or Jesus’s enemies did not allow one to be given.

The chief priests and elders, despite the great day of the feast, were all present at Golgotha. They may have feared that, without their own personal presence, the fickle crowd might change its attitude toward Jesus Christ, or that His followers might dare to stop the execution. But more likely, what brought them to Golgotha was the wish to witness the disgrace and torment of the dying Jesus, to poison His last moments with slander and mockery, to prevent any easing of His sufferings, however slight, and to observe the temper of the assembled multitude and shape its opinion as they pleased.

Ah, human nature had already shown, during Jesus Christ’s trial, so dark and base a side that one may now expect anything from it, without distorting the facts of history!..

As we come to describe the crucifixion and death of the God-man themselves, let us honestly confess that we approach this subject with a trembling of soul: we must tell of that which calls forth reverent astonishment even in the angels themselves (1Pet 1:12)… The Creator of things visible and invisible (Jn 1:3; Col 1:16), who could have summoned, even created, legions of angels (Mt 26:53) to carry out His will, is lifted up on the cross like a criminal, and subjected to terrible torments!.. The only-begotten Son of God is left, amid the agonies of death, by the Father, with whom He had glory before the world existed (Jn 17:5), with whom He is one (Jn 10:30, 5:23) in essence and in glory! The Lord of all, who has life in Himself (Jn 5:26) and gives being to every creature, wastes away from thirst, and dies like the least of the sons of men! These are thoughts that the most ardent imagination could never have invented, had they not been taught by faith; this is the hidden, secret wisdom of God, which, though ordained from eternity for our glory, was known to no one until God was pleased to reveal it to His own saints (1Cor 2:7-8). Here, of necessity, all correspondence between word and thing described is lost, and the narrative, weak enough in itself, becomes still more shallow and stammering. Even the evangelists themselves, in this case, describe Jesus Christ, so to speak, only according to the flesh (1Cor 2:7-8), as He appeared to the senses of onlookers, without disclosing what was taking place within His spirit, without explaining the mystery of the God-man’s inward sufferings. Whoever wishes to know this mystery (and no one can be a true Christian without sharing in it through living faith and living action) must turn in prayer to the Spirit of God Himself (1Cor 2:10), who alone foretold Christ’s sufferings before they came to pass (1Pet 1:13), and who alone proclaims the mystery of those sufferings after they have come to pass. The word of God declares only that, to understand the full force of Christ’s sufferings, one must be crucified with Christ and buried with Him (Rom 6:4). And one of those who understood this bears witness that, after such understanding, the whole world appears as nothing (Phil 2:8).

When the crosses had been fixed in the ground, the soldiers, as usual, stripped Jesus Christ of all His clothing, took up His most pure body, lifted it onto the cross, stretched out the arms, and began nailing them to the wood. Streams of blood poured down onto the ground…

Instead of the groans and cries usual and unavoidable in such a case, something else was heard from the lips of the crucified Lord: at the very moment when, in all likelihood, His embittered enemies fixed their eyes on His face with malicious joy, expecting to see an expression of agony, the Lord gently raised His eyes to heaven and said: «Father, forgive them! They do not know what they are doing».

Such was His obedience, even unto death, death on a cross! Him who had handed Him over into His enemies’ hands, and allowed Him to be condemned to torment and death, the divine Sufferer calls His own Father—just as He called Him at Lazarus’s tomb (Jn 11:41), or when a voice from heaven, before all the people, bore witness to His divine dignity (Jn 12:28). Having commanded His followers to pray for their enemies, the God-man now gives the example of this lofty prayer Himself, gives it at the very moment of the most terrible sufferings at His enemies’ hands. In their immediate sense, the words of this prayer no doubt applied to the soldiers who crucified Him (who were guilty not simply of carrying out the duty of their office, but of showing, in submission to the Jews’ wishes, an excess of cruelty); but in its essence the Lord’s intercessory prayer embraced all His enemies: neither Caiaphas, nor Pilate, nor Herod was excluded from it. For all of them, through their own malice or cunning, truly did not know themselves what they were doing. «For had they known—St. Paul says—they would not have crucified the Lord of glory».

This does not mean, however, that there were no guilty parties in the Lord’s death. Who could have failed to understand, had he wished to, what even the desperate Judas understood, and confessed with such force? This is why the Lord says: «Forgive them!» Without the Lord’s prayer, nature itself might perhaps not have endured this outrage against its own Creator, and His enemies, like the enemies of Moses and Aaron (Num 16:32), might have been swallowed up by the very earth that trembled to bear His cross.