Luckless

Lost Story by Rev. G. Earnest Lynch (April 1965 Star Tribune)

April 11, 2014 at 12:35pm

 

Here I stand like a sweating statue, Adrian the unlucky.  Every man in my company draws a 12 hour pass except me-I draw guard duty.  And not just ordinary guard duty in a place with some shade, but crucifixion guard duty on this stinking hill, Golgotha, they call it.  The place of the skull and well named.  It's not my idea of a picnic spot. 

I could be stuck here until midnight.  Who knows how long it's going to take before these three give up the ghost?  The last time I had this duty it went on for 10 hours.  That's the trouble with this soldiering business-endless boredom at low pay. 

I guess I'm just luckless.  I sign up in Rome because my girlfriend likes uniforms and the next thing you know I'm in Jerusalem, where a decent girl won't look at a Roman Legionnaire. Then I draw a top-sergeant who hates big-city Romans because he's a country boy.  So he gives me the wrong end of every stick.  Even today, when we threw dice for that fellow's cloak; I lost, Damn.  I could have sold that for a pretty penny.  Not a seam on it.  

Oh well, born to lose, that's me.  I'm never in the right place at the right time.  At least there's a little something happening here.  I've never seen such a crowd at a crucifixion and they're an ugly mob too.  Shouting and spitting, jeering and mocking.  I wonder what's got their blood up?

There's one punk who thinks he's a comedian, standing on tiptoe with his arms stretched out and a silly smirk on his face, pretending he's being crucified.  I wish he'd step out of line.  I'd love to give him a little taste of my fist.  But he won't.  That kind doesn't like rough boys. 

What's that fool yelling?  Oh, "Come down from the cross," he says. "If Thou be the Christ, save thyself."  Very funny.  And look at those half-wits with him, screeching with laughter at his wit.  I'd like to see how funny he'd be on a cross.  

That man on the middle cross looks different from the other two.  I wonder why he's up there.  Doesn't look like a criminal and isn't scared. Usually they either scream about how innocent they are or go out swearing.  He sounds more like a physician comforting sick people.  

Listen to that: "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do".  Does HE mean me or just those Jews? 

Now what's HE saying? Oh, HE's talking to that thief, Dismas.  "Today shalt though be with me in paradise." What could that mean?  I never heard any one die like this.  I hope I do as well when my time comes. 

God, it's getting dark!  Hell's own storm must be heading this way. 

I wonder who those weeping women are.  One of them looks familiar.  Could hat be...? Damn, it is.  Mary Magdalene, the whore.  How did she get into this mess?

But the other is older, and there is a young man comforting her.  What a beautiful face she has, even in sorrow. She makes me think of my own mother.   I'd better change my thoughts or I'll start weeping too.  Could she be this poor fellow's mother?  God, I hope not.  This is no place for her.  

She is! He called her "Mother," and said to the young man, "Behold thy mother." Does that mean HE thinks her love is great enough to enfold more than her natural sons? What a strange thought.  And yet, if love is of God and God is everywhere, then one who truly loves God could become the Holy Mother of us all.  And that would include even me. 

It's nearly over, Soon we'll be breaking their legs to hasten the smothering.  

He thirsts.  I'll offer this sponge of vinegar.  It may deaden the pain.  I can't do much for HIM, poor fellow, but what I can I will.  The man has style, so I'm on HIS side, even when HE's losing.  We losers must stick together. 

That fool called him "Christ"? I'll by that. This man surely was the son of God.