| |
Two things shot through Casey’s brain just then. he was no stranger to the Bible since he attended Roman Catholic school where he was an altar boy. He even won the Pastoral Award for his steadfast dedication to the church as a young grammar school kid. When he was even younger, it wasn’t unusual for him to have his mother read the Passion of Christ from the New Testament almost every day. He was so young he could hardly read or write yet. But in retrospect, he believed that the passion story, in all its Biblical drama, is what led to his becoming a writer in the first place.
That said, it was Barabbas who was set free by the angry mob of Jews who wanted so badly to see Jesus crucified, not a man named Casey Smith. But regardless of the Meta engineers, anytime you attempted time travel, historic events would repeat themselves, but they would happen somewhat differently. It was a law that Einstein spoke about numerous times, the name for which escaped Casey Smith as he was forced at spear-point up a steep, narrow, stone staircase.
But the Barabbas thing was the least of his worries. What if they released Jesus and chose to crucify him instead? Crucifixion was and remains one of the most horrible methods of execution (the radical terrorist group ISIS used it in the Middle East when they rounded up Christians who resided in their territory). Would the engineers of the Metaverse truly be that cruel? Would they willingly program Casey to suffer agonizing and humiliating pain for hours and hours, or perhaps even days? If that was the case, then the powers that be were truly sadistic sons of bitches.
But then, Metaverse or no Metaverse, this was his physical and emotional reality now. Every pull on his wrist shackles was real. It hurt him physically. The dark red blood that dripped from his ankles and wrists was real blood. His speeding pulse was real. The heart that was pumping the blood through his veins far faster than God intended was real. The adrenaline that filled his brain was real.
The major question remained, if the Romans put him to death, would he finally die for real and be spared waking up in another place and time, only to be killed yet again? Only time would tell, and the time he was spending in ancient Judea could not fly fast enough.
Short soldier led him onto the stone platform where Jesus was standing beside Pilot. When Jesus glanced at him, the God-Man’s piercing blue-gray eyes cut right through Casey to his heart and soul. Jesus was a sad sight to see. His face was cut up like so much hamburger. His left eye was swollen shut. His nose was broken. His lips were swelled, and bloodied, and like Casey, a front tooth had been knocked out. The crown of thorns buried in his skull caused dark blood to leak from his scalp to drip down his face, soaking his black beard.
Like Casey already pointed out, he’d been wrapped in a purple robe as if he were the King of the Jews. A long reed had been placed between the rope that bound his wrists. He was barefoot and stood maybe three inches taller than the writer. Before them, the crowd was roaring and Pilot and his soldiers were still doing their best to calm them down, lest they rush the platform and overtake Pilot’s quarters. The situation could not have been more chaotic or tense if someone had shouted “Fire” inside a packed movie theater.
Having locked eyes with Jesus, Casey felt a desperate need to say something...anything to him. Something that would comfort the Prince of Peace. But what do you say to a man who is arguably the son of God? Was it possible Casey didn’t need to say anything? That Jesus possessed the power to read Casey’s mind?
This was the same man who performed stunning miracles. He made the blind see. He resurrected Lazarus after he’d been dead for four days and nights. He even turned water into wine during a wedding. Why was this crowd, who once adored their would-be Messiah, now turning on him?
Having managed to calm the crowd for at least the present moment, Pilot took a step back.
“You have a choice, ladies and gentlemen,” he shouted. “You can release Jesus of Nazareth who has committed no crimes worthy of a crucifixion, or you can release Casey Smith, who not only robbed a bank but killed an innocent man in the process.”
Casey’s heart was pounding. This is where he felt entirely conflicted. Knowing what he knew about Jesus, the last thing he deserved was crucifixion. Instead, he deserved praise for what he’d done for mankind and for what good he would do in the future. But then, if he didn’t die on the cross, it would change history forever. There would be no Christians and no church. But then, Casey didn’t want to die by crucifixion. He didn’t want to go through all that pain. Who on God’s earth would?
The crowd remained oddly silent, until someone shouted, “Release Barabbas.”
Another man followed up. “Yes, release Barabbas and crucify Smith and Jesus.”
That’s when the entire crowd shouted in unison, “Release Barabbas, and crucify Smith and Jesus.”
Casey’s heart sank to his ankles. Pilot turned and ordered one of his men to bring him a bowl of water and a cloth. The soldier obeyed and brought the items to him. The Roman governor proceeded to wash his hands in a symbolic gesture that exempted him from all responsibility.
He announced, “I take no responsibility for your decision to crucify Jesus. But as for Casey, he deserves to die by the cross as does the murderer, Barabbas.”
Drying his hands with the white cloth, Pilot turned to Short Soldier and Tall Soldier.
“The people of Judea have spoken,” he said with a sad face. “Take the prisoners away and prepare them for death.”