The Darkness of the Cross Enlightened on the Road to Emmaus

At Gethsemane Jesus of Nazareth agreed to bear the Cross to his own Crucifixion so that following him to Heaven’s Gate would not be a burden of impossibility for us.

Holy Week 2026 by Father Gordon MacRae

In all of human history, no method of execution has been devised more heinously, or delivered with more cruelty than crucifixion. In the Old Testament — no stranger to the cruel acts of men — crucifixion did not exist. It was first introduced to human history in the Sixth Century BC by the Persians, the ancestral empire of present-day Iran. I recently wrote of Iran and its place in history in “Iran, by Another Name, Was Once the Savior of Israel.”

My visual introduction to crucifixion was not so much biblical, but cinematic. Over many years I had pondered in depth its biblical presentation, but it was only when I watched the 2004 film, The Passion of the Christ directed by Mel Gibson, that I experienced and absorbed its visual impact. The brutality of the film was criticized for its excessive violence, but there was no such thing as a “gentle” crucifixion.

The Passion of the Christ contains all the elements ascribed to the event in the four Gospel accounts of the Crucifixion of Jesus in Sacred Scripture. I have read and studied those accounts many times, but I could watch that film only once and never again. It left me in a state of profound sorrow. That sorrow caused me to rethink some of the peripheral, but mysterious events that Sacred Scripture lends to the Crucifixion scene. One of them is the following excerpt from Psalm 22 attributed to King David. He never experienced crucifixion, but in Psalm 22 he wrote of it in the first person and in vivid prose 1,000 years before Jesus of Nazareth experienced it:

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from helping me, from the words of my cry?

“O my God, I cry out by day, but you answer not, and by night, but I find no rest.

“Yet you are holy, enthroned upon the praises of Israel. In you our fathers trusted; they trusted and you delivered them. To you they cried and they were saved. In you they trusted, and were not disappointed.

“But I am worm and no man; scorned by men and despised by the people. All who see me scoff at me. They mock me with parted lips; they wag their heads. ‘He trusted in the Lord, let him deliver him. Let him rescue him if he delights in him.’

“I am poured out like water, and all my bones are wracked; my heart is like wax, it is melted within my breast. My strength is dried up like a potsherd, and my tongue cleaves to my jaws. You have laid me in the dust of death.

“Indeed, many dogs surround me; a pack of evildoers closes in upon me. They have pierced my hands and my feet. I can count all my bones; they stare and gloat over me. They divide my garments amongst them. For my clothing they cast lots.”

— Excerpted from Psalm 22, a Psalm of King David, circa 1000 BC

Most observant Jews would likely have recognized “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” as the opening line of Psalm 22. Mysteriously, those present for the Crucifixion of Jesus failed to do so. The Gospel quotes them as saying, “He is calling upon Elijah.” It was a distortion of the mixed Hebrew and Aramaic in the plea of Jesus from the Cross: “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani.” In a magisterial treatise, Jesus of Nazareth: Part 2 Holy Week, Pope Benedict XVI wrote “Psalm 22 is Israel’s great cry of anguish, in the midst of its sufferings, addressed to the apparently silent God …. Now we hear the great anguish of the one suffering on account of God’s seeming absence.” Many of us have been here when simply calling out or pleading with God is not enough. In extreme anguish, prayer inevitably becomes a loud cry. Jesus prays this loud cry on behalf of all of us: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

What is remarkable about the four Gospel accounts of the Crucifixion is the multitude of Old Testament allusions and quotations they contain. In them, the Word of God and the events of the Gospel are deeply interwoven into the Passion Narrative. Two of these allusions, Psalm 22 and Isaiah 53, the “Suffering Servant” motif, shed light on the entire Passion event.

Isaiah begins with a direct reference to this saving act of God in a prophesy written hundreds of years before its fulfillment: “Behold, a virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name ‘Emmanuel’” — a name which means “God with us.”

All of Sacred Scripture makes clear one consistent truth. If God is with us, we are not always with God. This becomes especially evident in the Passion Narrative of the Gospels, the arrest, interrogation, trial, scourging, and Crucifixion of Jesus. No one who followed him to this end, and who came to believe that he is the Messiah, the Christ of God, could ever have imagined that he would face humiliation, torture, Crucifixion and death. When it came, despite all promises to the contrary, most of his disciples shrank from their own promises and fled. None of us can stand in judgment of them. I wrote of one of history’s most vivid examples in “The Apostle Falls: Simon Peter Denies Christ.”

He Suffered under Pontius Pilate

But prior to all that, Jesus was interrogated by Pontius Pilate, the Roman military governor or procurator of the imperial province of Judea from 26 to 36 AD. The Jewish historian, Flavius Josephus, portrayed Pilate as a harsh administrator who failed to understand the religious convictions and national pride of the Jews. Pilate is known mainly for his connection with the trial and execution of Jesus. His culpability in the outcome has been the subject of debate ever since, and this conflicting view was implied even by Pope Benedict XVI, who wrote:

“After the interrogation, Pilate knew for certain what in principle he had already known beforehand: this Jesus was no political rebel; his message and his activity posed no threat for the Roman rulers. Whether Jesus had offended against the Torah was of no concern to Pilate as a Roman.”

— Jesus of Nazareth: Holy Week, p195

The Gospels of John and Mark present the custom of choosing a prisoner to be released on the Passover. The Gospels present a juxtaposition of the theological significance of choosing Jesus or Barabbas for release. John refers to Barabbas simply as a robber (18:40). In the political context of the time the Greek word that John used has also acquired the meaning of “terrorist,” or “rebel.” This is clear from Mark’s account: “And among the rebels in prison who had committed murder in the insurrection, there was a man called Barabbas” (Mark 15:7). It was clear that Pilate preferred to release Jesus, yet the crowd had different categories. Pilate came to understand their strong preference to release Barabbas, who had acquired the personna of a swashbuckling rebel.

The governor of Judea had complete judicial authority over all who were not Roman citizens, but many cases, especially those relating to religious matters, were decided by the Sanhedrin, the Jewish supreme council. According to the Gospel accounts, after the Sanhedrin found Jesus guilty of blasphemy it committed him to the Roman court because it lacked the authority to impose a death sentence. Pilate refused to approve their judgment without further investigation but the Sanhedrin threatened Pilate. When Pilate asked them, “Shall I crucify your king?” “The Chief Priests Answered, ‘We Have No King but Caesar’”

The Jewish priests then made other charges against Jesus, accusing him of blasphemy by calling himself a king (which he never actually did) and a son of God. Pilate appears to have been impressed with the dignity and honesty of Jesus, and tried to save him (John 18:38-39, 19:12-15). But fear of an uprising in Jerusalem and a resulting report to Roman authorities forced Pilate to accede to the Sanhedrin’s demand after the chief priests declared that freeing Jesus would mean that Pilate “is no friend of Caesar.” The false claim that Jesus was “King of the Jews,” was perceived as a threat to the Roman empire. It ended up on the inscription bearing the official nature of his offense to be affixed to his Cross.

Jesus was thus to be crucified and was handed over by Pilate for scourging, a brutal aspect of the punishment that often left the accused dead even before being crucified. Some have suggested that the scourging was intensified by Pilate to sway Jewish leaders away from crucifixion if the scourging was brutal enough. The guards saw to it that it was, but to no avail. It is very likely that Jesus carried only the crossbeam to which his hands were affixed first by ropes and then nails were added upon the height of Mount Calvary. His scourging had left his skin shredded so Simon of Cyrene was recruited to help carry the crossbeam. Only a few faithful women, including his Mother, his Mother’s sister, and Mary Magdalene remained with the beloved disciple John.

Each of the four Gospels presents a parallax view, the same scene but from a different perspective. In the Gospel according to John, the dying Jesus addressed his Mother: “Woman, behold your son” and to John, “Behold your Mother” (John 19:27). The Gospel instructs us that “from that hour the disciple took her into his own home.” Faithful Catholics have done the same ever since. Mary occupies a very special place in this scene and in our hearts.

As for Pontius Pilate, he was recalled to Rome in AD 36. According to the Roman historian, Eusebius, Pilate later committed suicide. Other traditions, however, report that Pilate secretly became a Christian and was condemned to death by the Roman Senate. Perhaps for this reason, Pilate is strangely revered by Coptic Christians as a martyr. They observe his feastday on June 25.

“Why Do You Seek the Living among the Dead?” (Luke 24:5)

The Resurrection of Jesus is the crowning event of the Passion Narratives of all four Gospels. Joseph of Arimathea, a member of the Sanhedrin who “was looking for the Kingdom of God” risked his standing in the Sanhedrin by asking Pilate for the body of Jesus, which was granted. Joseph interred the body in his own tomb hewn from rock (Luke 24:51). Some women went to the tomb as the Sabath was beginning. They saw the body of Jesus there then left to observe the Sabath.

On the next day, the first day of the week, these same women, now identified as Mary Magdalene, Joanna and Mary, mother of James, returned with spices to prepare the body according to the ritual law. They found the stone sealing the tomb to have been rolled away and two men in dazzling apparel frightened them asking,”Why do you seek the living among the dead?” When they told this to the disciples, they were not believed, but Peter ran to the tomb and found it just as they had said.

Later that same day, two of his disciples — one identified as Cleopas — were venturing about seven miles from Jerusalem along the road to Emmaus. They were speaking with great sorrow and trauma about the events of this and previous days. I have been where they were on that day. I do not mean that I have been on the road to Emmaus, except perhaps figuratively. I have been at a place at which all that I had ever worked for and hoped for just collapsed in irreparable ruin, and there was no justice in it. Reading about this encounter on the road to Emmaus, their deep sorrow and loss resonates with me on a personal level.

Then they encounter the Risen Christ along that road, but “Their eyes were kept from recognizing him.” (Luke 24:16) The visitor asked what their animated conversation was all about. The one named Cleopas was incredulous: “Are you the only visitor to Jerusalem who does not know the things that have happened there in these days?” “What things?” asked the stranger. Then came the outpouring of their grief:

“The things concerning Jesus of Nazareth who was a prophet might in word and deed before God and all the people, and how our chief priests and rulers delivered him up to be condemned to death, and crucified him. We had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel. And besides all this, it is now the third day since this has happened. Now some women of our company have just amazed us. They were at the tomb early in the morning, but they did not find his body. They came back saying that they had even seen a vision of angels who said that he is alive. Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women said, but him they did not see.”

(To be continued.)

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Note from Father Gordon MacRae: Thank you for reading and sharing this post, which will now be added to both Our Holy Week Retreat and to our Collection called The Bible Speaks. You may also like these related posts leading up to the top of Mount Calvary:

Satan at the Last Supper: Hours of Darkness and Light

Waking Up in the Garden of Gethsemane

The Chief Priests Answered, ‘We Have No King but Caesar’

Behold the Man, as Pilate Washes His Hands

The Eucharistic Adoration Chapel established by Saint Maximilian Kolbe was inaugurated at the outbreak of World War II. It was restored as a Chapel of Adoration in September, 2018, the commemoration of the date that the war began. It is now part of the World Center of Prayer for Peace. The live internet feed of the Adoration Chapel at Niepokalanow — sponsored by EWTN — was established just a few weeks before we discovered it and began to include in at Beyond These Stone Walls. Click “Watch on YouTube” in the lower left corner to see how many people around the world are present there with you. The number appears below the symbol for EWTN.

Click or tap here to proceed to the Adoration Chapel.

The following is a translation from the Polish in the image above: “Eighth Star in the Crown of Mary Queen of Peace” “Chapel of Perpetual Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament at Niepokalanow. World Center of Prayer for Peace.” “On September 1, 2018, the World Center of Prayer for Peace in Niepokalanow was opened. It would be difficult to find a more expressive reference to the need for constant prayer for peace than the anniversary of the outbreak of World War II.”

For the Catholic theology behind this image, visit my post, “The Ark of the Covenant and the Mother of God.”

The Passion of the Christ in an Age of Outrage

Prayerful observance of Holy Week is a challenge in a climate of woke ideology and political outrage. Spend time with us this week Beyond These Stone Walls.

Something timely and fascinating was unearthed in the days just before Holy Week in 2021. It actually began in 1960 near the Dead Sea in Qumran, an ancient Hebrew settlement in Jordan. Archeologists discovered fragments showing that caves there were used as a hide-out by Bar Kochba’s rebel army which staged a three-year revolt against the Roman occupation of Jerusalem from AD 132-135.

The 1960 discovery included Roman coins, arrows, and a fragment of parchment bearing sixteen verses in Hebrew from the Book of Exodus. In a deep cave in Wadi Haver, archeologists also discovered several of Bar Kochba’s letters on papyri and wood.

Sixty-one years later, on March 16, 2021 the Israeli government announced the discovery of dozens of Dead Sea Scroll fragments of Hebrew texts from the Prophets Zechariah and Nahum from an adjacent cave. The “Cave of Horrors,” as it is called, contained other evidence that it was used by followers of Bar Kochba to evade the Roman armies. The cave is located in the Judean desert about 262 feet (80 meters) below a cliff top.

The Bar Kochba rebellion took place about 60 years after the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple, an event predicted by Jesus during his triumphant entry into Jerusalem (Luke 19:28ff). In AD 70, Romans destroyed the Temple. The revolt of Bar Kochba was triggered 60 years later when Roman emperor Hadrian decided to erect a shrine to the mythological Roman god, Jupiter, upon the site of the Temple.

Emperor Hadrian came personally to Judea to put down the Bar Kochba revolt which ultimately cost the lives of over a half million Jews. The revolt was called the “Liberation of Jerusalem” by its adherents. It was led by Simon Ben Kosibah, known to the documents of the early Christian Church as Bar Kochba.

Hadrian and his General, Sextus Julius Severus, crushed the revolt by a long, slow starvation of the Jewish revolutionaries and their families who had been driven into the desert to take refuge in the desert caves. When it was all over, Hadrian destroyed what was left of Jerusalem. He then decreed that the whole Jewish nation should be barred, from that day forward, from entering the City of Jerusalem and its surrounding area so that “they may not even view from afar their ancestral home.”

Little is known today about the state of Christianity at the time of the Bar Kochba revolt. It was a time in which a break between synagogue and church was taking place for Jewish Christians. A succession of thirteen Jewish-Christian bishops ruled Jerusalem until the time of Hadrian. At the time of the first destruction of the Jerusalem Temple in AD 70, Simeon, son of Clopas, was Bishop of Jerusalem and was martyred there. The Second Century historian Eusebius, reported that between the martyrdom of Simeon and the Bar Kochba revolt, “many thousands of Jews had come to believe in Christ.”

A Revolution in the Soul

These remnants of a revolution seem an almost fitting discovery just before Holy Week in this of all years. I believe that the bones of Bar Kochba’s faithful Jewish and Jewish-Christian revolutionaries are calling to us from those caves. I have never written a Holy Week post like this before because we have never had a Holy Week like this before in our lifetimes. For the second year in a row, many Catholics face a drastic reduction in their ability to participate in the liturgy and Sacraments of their Faith.

The first time Holy Week was limited by fears of a pandemic — in Holy Week 2020 — Christianity was caught off guard on a global scale. We never imagined that the restrictions set in place by both civil and religious authorities would further impede our faith as we approach another Holy Week a year later. We never imagined that many of our spiritual leaders would continue their passive acceptance of the severe limits placed on our practice of faith. I wrote of this at the turn of the year in “A Year in the Grip of Earthly Powers.”

On what we today call “Passion Sunday,” Jesus entered Jerusalem as the triumphant Son of David, a title given to him by Sacred Scripture. As he entered the Holy City, he wept. It is notable that he did not weep over his knowledge that he enters Jerusalem to commence the Passion of the Christ. Saint Luke’s Passion Narrative makes clear that Jesus wept over Jerusalem and what he knew to be the coming destruction of the Temple and Holy City by Earthly Powers. He knew that many would lose their lives in revolt against it.

Many people in our era are just now awakening to a revolution in the soul as clarity dawns that demonic forces behind so-called “cancel culture” are using a pandemic to suppress our churches, our liturgy, our voices, and our communal values and expressions of faith. Many are also awakening to the reality that some — but certainly not all — of our religious leaders have acquiesced to this suppression, most by their silence, but some by outright endorsement of government-imposed shutdowns.

I have written of at least two instances in which the courts have overruled political impositions on Mass attendance and Catholic practice only to have the local Catholic bishop re-impose the same restrictions the courts had declared unconstitutional. I feel indebted to the many priests — and, in fairness, some bishops too — who have found courage in their fidelity to reject the modern version of one of my most memorable Holy Week posts: “The Chief Priests Answered, ‘We Have No King but Caesar’.”

That Whisper in the Ear of Judas

There is another force, also seemingly demonic in its origin, that has impinged upon our expressions of fidelity in the public square. I could sense it all around us throughout the last year and it has not abated. It has just festered and grown deeper within many of us as persons and as communities. I had a hard time putting a name on it until I saw it spelled out by one of my favorite columnists in The Wall Street Journal.

On March 9, 2021, political columnist Gerald F. Seib published a masterful analysis entitled “The Perpetual Outrage Machine Churns On.” You may not be able to read it without a subscription but I will give a brief summary of its evidence.

Two months after the January 6 events at the U.S. Capitol, prison-like fencing still surrounded the area. In Minneapolis, the trial of former police officer Derek Chauvin over the death of George Floyd — seemingly every horrid moment of it caught on national television — has commenced amid another round of protests. Innocent Asian Americans have suddenly become targets of physical and verbal assault across the nation. Four women at a Bed and Body Works store in Arizona erupted into a wild brawl. Eight persons were killed by a single gunman in a spa in Atlanta. Ten more were murdered while shopping in a Colorado supermarket.

This list of present day atrocities spawned by rage could go on for pages. There is an influence behind it. A master opportunist has been doing what he does best. In Holy Week 2020, I wrote “Satan at the Last Supper: Hours of Darkness & Light.” Its point was that the whisper into the ear of Judas at the Last Supper was preceded by other events. Before it happened, Satan entered into Judas (Luke 22:3) as Judas entered into a deal with the chief priests to betray Christ. His sin of greed left him vulnerable to the exploitation of Satan and his minions. That is always the case. The mere whisper in the dark is never enough. Through a long, slow, barely noticeable descent toward ever greater darkness, Satan finds an opportunity just as he found one in Judas Iscariot.

Our rage against the affairs of this world can also be a point of vulnerability. The great Christian writer, C. S. Lewis, described that path to spiritual destruction in his allegorical story, The Screwtape Letters (1940). He captures Satan instructing his nephew in the ways of spiritual warfare: “It is the cumulative effect of sin that draws the Man away from the Light and out into the Nothing ... The safest road to Hell is the gradual one, the gentle curves, soft underfoot, without turns, without signposts, without a roadmap. (The Screwtape Letters, p. 61)

Satan exploits fear, rage, even political contention and a pandemic to drive a wedge not only between persons, but within them. If your life of faith has been assailed by the world, the flesh, and the devil in this past year, we invite you to walk the Way of the Cross Beyond These Stone Walls this week.

We are posting on Monday of Holy Week instead of our usual Wednesday post day to present this special Holy Week post and a short list of six others for you to read and share in each day of Holy Week. The list begins in an hour of darkness and ends in the glory of Salvation.

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Satan at The Last Supper: Hours of Darkness & Light

Waking Up in the Garden of Gethsemane

The Chief Priests Answered, ‘We Have No King but Caesar’

Behold the Man, as Pilate Washes His Hands

Dismas, Crucified to the Right: Paradise Lost and Found

Mary Magdalene: Faith, Courage, and an Empty Tomb