בְּרֵאשִׁ֖ית… Beresheet… In the beginning… In the beginning… In the beginning… The word buzzed in his head like the lullaby his mother used to sing. The first spike pierced his hand and cracked the beam.

 

His eyes squinted in pain until the heavens and earth disappeared. His teeth clenched until a tooth cracked to deny the Romans any satisfaction. The song disappeared gray with the second spike.

 

He wasn’t there when the nail bent through his feet sealing him to the cross. The hammer missed and cracked his toe. One guard said something he couldn’t understand, and the other laughed.

 

Was it moments or days? He became aware that the ache, the cramp, the burning, the spasm, the pain, and the bitterness was his own. He screamed until his air was gone and he could suck no more. Pulled muscles in his jaw faded into agony.

 

Was it moments or seconds? The thief’s eyes bulged as he surveyed the watchers through the tears, more than expected around the crosses and leaning from the Temple Mount. His girlfriend was in the back behind the priests. She waved when their eyes met and for that moment, they were free and romping hand in hand through a meadow.

 

She had seen the Thief naked in love. Now the crowd saw him with mocking eyes, only a few with tears. It seemed most were focused on the man hanging beside him, a popular rabbi called Jesus. He had watched him sometimes in the past months with words that comforted and challenged at the same time… or made no sense. Some said he was the promised Messiah. Why had they let that killer Barabbas free for this man of peace?

 

He knew. Barabbas had murdered and hated the Romans more than he did and certainly more than Jesus. Barabbas deserved to hang here, but not Jesus.

 

And why would they crucify him who had only stolen a few loaves of bread? Well, and a few coins when no one was looking. He remembered as a child telling his mother he was only borrowing the money with Caesar’s picture. Then he needed more.

 

He looked carefully again, and his girlfriend was gone. Hope drizzled away. And no wall to shield him as he drained and expelled. For a moment his gut felt better but he had no way to hold his nose from the breath of Golgotha.

 

Then his stomach churned and tried to empty its acid, pushing up to escape. It seared his throat, fouled his tongue, and bubbled in his nose. Coughing, snorting, it ran down his chin, but the fire remained.

 

He carefully shifted to move the pain, searching for less distress. He screamed again but who even heard him or cared? He glanced at his fellow thief, but everyone was watching Jesus. Many passing by with their Passover lambs paused to consider or mock Jesus, others hurrying by shielding their eyes.

 

He studied Jesus carefully, also nailed with no relief. He had been beaten worse and thorns jammed on his head. The sign over him announcing him ‘King of the Jews’ had yielded a moment of enjoyment with the Governor and priests arguing. It seemed Pilate was sympathetic to him. Somehow joy showed through Jesus’ pain. Was he the promised Christ?

 

And the Roman Centurion had surprised him. Before that first spike he offered Jesus wine with what looked like myrrh stirred in it. Jesus tasted it and shook his head like he didn’t want any special treatment. Oh, would he like some of that painkiller now, but he and his buddy were offered none.

 

The bright side was the dark side. The Passover began at sunset and he had heard the Centurion agree with the priests all would be dead and buried by then. He would not hang on the cross for long, long, long days. And then what?

 

Fear overwhelmed the pain. Why would Abraham welcome him into his bosom? Would it be the flames of Hades? Or nothing as some claimed? Fire scorched his fear.

 

The commandments? Many things had he coveted and some he stole. At least he hadn’t murdered or had any idols… except money. And what had breaking those commandments gotten him? Roman justice. What would be God’s justice?

 

Breath had brought the flies, crowding in for the moisture around his lips, his eyes, in his ears, a blanket. They found the blood leaking from his feet. They laid maggots in his soul waiting for him to rot.

 

It had been hours now. If he coveted being in the Paradise of Abraham’s bosom would that break a commandment? He couldn’t look forward but only back. How many times had he listened to words that did not sink into his heart? “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…”

 

He had heard the words of Jesus when they drove the spikes. “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.” Who would say such a thing when he had been substituted for a murderer? He shifted and experienced a new pain.

 

The pain in his heart was the many words of God he had heard and ignored. It was his own fault for straying to a life that was his world and not God’s. He had blamed others for his poor choices. He felt like Adam looking back, looking back…

 

I’m sorry, God. I’m so sorry.

 

He looked at Jesus, also covered with flies sucking blood. He stared at Jesus, who had called God his father. Love still showed through. He knew he was the promised Messiah.

 

The crowd and passersby began chanting to Jesus to come down off his cross and prove he was the Messiah. He joined his buddy with the cry to come down and save them. Then he pleaded directly to Jesus to come down off the cross and save him, but Jesus did not look his way.

 

His buddy continued to chide Jesus with, “Are you not the Christ? Save yourself and us!”

 

He could not repeat the words again. Why would God or his Messiah have to prove themselves to him? A parable he had heard suddenly made sense that here and now he was the one who needed to wash Jesus’ feet. Please forgive me.

 

He rebuked the other thief with, “Do you not even fear God since you are under the same judgment? We are punished justly, for we are receiving what our actions deserve. But this man has done nothing wrong.”

 

Pain eased as he prayed, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom!”

 

Jesus turned and smiled. “Truly I tell you today, you will be with me in Paradise.”

 

He exhaled, “Oh…”

 

Darkness covered the land and many panicked. It was light inside. Joy and peace filled his soul and he knew Abraham was waiting.

 

The following hours he was in prayer, concentrating on Paradise. Old guilt washed away as in the Jordon. When he opened his eyes, all he could see was Jesus. The pain ebbed and flowed awaiting a final sunset.

 

Jesus spoke, cried, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” He slumped as if passing quietly into Paradise.

 

The Centurion appeared to also know Jesus was the Messiah and said, “Surely this man was the Son of God.”

 

Bleating from the Temple confirmed the Passover lambs were being slain. Sunset in a darkened world approached. Or was it sunrise?

 

The other thief screamed as a guard clubbed and snapped the bones in his legs. That soldier came and stood before him gripping his club, aiming…

 

The Thief on the Cross looked up and whispered, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me.”