Simon of Cyrene: The Miracle of the Messiah

Copyright © 2009 by Robert E. Wardlow.

Cover: Detail of Simon of Cyrene, Titian, 1477-1576, The Prado Museum, Madrid, Spain

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CONTENTS

PREFACE

INTRODUCTION

Part One: The Reunion

CHAPTER ONE

It Is Finished

CHAPTER TWO

Cyrenaica

CHAPTER THREE

The Voyage

CHAPTER FOUR

A Roman World

CHAPTER FIVE

Jerusalem, O Jerusalem

CHAPTER SIX

Herod’s Kingdom

CHAPTER SEVEN

Temple Culture

CHAPTER EIGHT

The Last Week

CHAPTER NINE

Travesty of Justice

Part Two: The Metamorphosis

CHAPTER TEN

A Betrayer

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Joseph and Nicodemus

CHAPTER TWELVE

From Resurrection to Ascension

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The Ordination of the Apostles

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Mary and Joseph

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Jesus of Nazareth

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

John the Baptizer

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Connecting the Commandments

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Return to Cyrene

Part Three: The Apostles

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The Region

CHAPTER TWENTY

Andrew and Peter

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The Three Jameses

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Matthew and Thomas

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Philip and Nathanael

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Thaddeus and Simon

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Matthias and the Seven Deacons

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

John

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

John Mark, Peter, and Simon

Part Four: A New Genesis

Chapter Twenty-Eight

From Saul to Paul

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Paul’s Journeys

CHAPTER THIRTY

New Christians

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

The Early Church

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Ephesus: A Great Christian City

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

The Destruction of Jerusalem

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Rome: The Eternal City

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

The Strangeness of the Caesars

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

It Is Finished

With Love

This book is dedicated to my mother, who taught me to appreciate my Christian heritage, and to my wife, who shares her faith with me and supports me in my writings. REW

This is the story of Simon of Cyrene.

History is an approximate account of the past, just as prophecy is an approximation of the future.

—Pere M. J. LaGrange

PREFACE

Simon was written as a labor of love during the early and late hours of a day over a period of years. It is an excitingly graphic story of love, hate, hypocrisy, confusion, doubt, faith, and commitment. There are questions we want answered. As we experience life, some get answered; some do not. But we grow and develop as we increase our understanding of Jesus’ purpose.

This is a story of a man’s faith in God and a belief in a fulfilled prophecy of the Messiah. It is not written as an explanation or an interpretation. The story about Simon is fiction, but the story surrounding Simon is based on fact.

Once, Jesus of Nazareth was asked, Which commandment is the first of all? Jesus answered, The first is, ‘Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one; you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.’ The second is this, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these (Mark 12:29-31).

The last words of Jesus to the eleven apostles were, All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age (Matthew 28:18-20).

This story expresses how one man, Jesus of Nazareth, could change not only Simon, but also the entire world. It is a historical statement regarding the troubling time in which Jesus was born, lived, and died. In many ways, things have not changed. It examines a realistic background of a world that existed in confusion and conflict that surrounds the personalities of the characters in Simon.

Enjoy the story. Identify with the characters. But above all, explore the meaning of taking up the cross and following Jesus Christ. How you understand that must be shaped by biblical doctrine and convey such truth as can be embodied in life’s experiences, not merely in the abstract.

After mocking him, they stripped him of the robe and put his own clothes on him. Then they led him away to crucify him. As they went out, they came upon a man from Cyrene named Simon; they compelled this man to carry his cross.

—Matthew 27:31-32

INTRODUCTION

My name is Simon, and I am a Jew. I was born in the small village of Nazareth, seventy miles north of Jerusalem in lower Galilee, thirty-three years ago. My father, Lucius, is a wine merchant; and we moved to Cyrene, the capital of the Roman province of Cyrenaica, when I was twelve. I was devastated when my family decided to move as Nazareth was the only home I knew. I loved the village and hated leaving all my friends, but after my disappointment, I adjusted to my new home.

Cyrenaica has a Jewish population of approximately one hundred thousand. My wife, Serah, and I live in a Jewish community in Cyrene, with our sons, Rufus and Alexander. When my friend Nathan and I graduated from the Academy of Philosophy here in Cyrene, we went into the importing and exporting wine business with my father. I direct the marketing units, and Nathan directs operations. Serah and my mother, Lydia, help us manage the business.

We are Jews that live in a Greek community that is part of a Roman province. I am a good Jew and know the scriptures well. The Greek community does not believe the Jewish scriptures to be true—that they are only myths and fables. Everything to the Greeks is myths and fables. However, as a Jew, I believe the scriptures to be true. Nathan and I are going to Jerusalem on business and plan to celebrate Passover while we are there. He has never been to Jerusalem, and we have been planning this trip for months. We will be sailing from Apollonia, the port city of Cyrene, to Alexandria and then to Caesarea. The safest way to go is by Roman ship, if you could call it that. Those big tubs are run by Phoenician sailors. We will be at sea between two to three weeks and then from Caesarea to Jerusalem by caravan. Our journey to Jerusalem will be the most difficult because on land, we will travel by foot for three days.

Our plans are to visit family and friends in Jerusalem and the surrounding areas. Nathan and I will be staying in Bethany, a quiet village two miles from Jerusalem, with my cousin Jamin and his wife, Tabitha.

It has been over twenty years since we moved to Cyrene; and returning to Jerusalem for Pesach, the Feast of Passover, has been a dream of mine for years. Jerusalem is one of the most beautiful cities in the world and the center of our Jewish heritage. My thoughts are focused also on visiting Nazareth, my childhood home. I keep thinking how wonderful it is going to be to renew old acquaintances and visit with friends, but most of all, I am anxious to see my childhood friend Jesus.

Jesus and his family lived next door to us, and we attended school together at the synagogue. We learned to read and write in Greek, Hebrew, and Aramaic; and after school, we would play spin the top, rolling small balls, pushing little clay animals with a wheel, blindman’s bluff, and hide-and-seek in the village square.

As children, I helped my father in the vineyards and winery, and Jesus helped his father in the carpentry shop. Jesus and I enjoyed watching my father make wine and his father make furniture. In the evenings, we would play in his father’s shop and imagine the wooden shavings left from the day’s work to be animals because of their various shapes and colors. I have fond memories of those days.

This dramatic story is about excitement and disappointment, sadness and joy, confusion and understanding, and love and hate. The story is divided into four parts: (1) The Reunion, (2) The Metamorphosis, (3) The Apostles, and (4) A New Genesis. My homecoming was not as I had planned, but because of it, I have become a new person. The story covers a period in history from the crucifixion of Jesus Christ to the year 82. This time frame in history is brief but important. It is a chronology of events that forever changed my life.

This is my story.

Ancient Rome

Rome’s span was vast. In the regional restless and shifting history of continental Europe, the Roman Empire stands as a towering monument to scale and stability. At its height, the Roman Empire, unified in politics and law, stretched from the sands of Syria to the moors of Scotland, and it stood for almost 700 years. Rome’s influence is indelible.

—G. G. Fagan

Part One: The Reunion

Chapter One: It Is Finished

Chapter Two: Cyrenaica

Chapter Three: The Voyage

Chapter Four: A Roman World

Chapter Five: Jerusalem, O Jerusalem

Chapter Six: Herod’s Kingdom

Chapter Seven: Temple Culture

Chapter Eight: The Last Week

Chapter Nine: Travesty of Justice

Then Jesus, crying with a loud voice, said, "Father, into your hands

I commend my spirit."

—Luke 23:46

CHAPTER ONE

It Is Finished

It is nine o’clock in the morning on Friday, the fifteenth of Nisan. Earlier in the day, the sun had been out; but now the sky is dark, dreary, and forbidding. It is raining.

I am standing on a hill outside the Damascus Gate, the northern gate of the city of Jerusalem. It is a rugged, barren, rocky area they call Golgotha. Its craggy rock appears very much like an eerie skull face, especially when the sun’s shadows cross it at particular times of the day. The road from the city wall to Golgotha is about three thousand feet. Among the black rock and wild flowers are crowds of people shoving and pushing to get a better view of the crucifixion. The soldiers try to control the crowd, but to no avail. Some people wept while others yelled condemnations.

A person standing close by told me the women and the man near the place where Jesus was to be crucified were Jesus’ mother, Mary; Clopas’ wife, Mary; Mary Magdalene; and one of Jesus’ apostles, John. Of all the apostles, he was the only one who had the courage to show up at the crucifixion. I have not spoken to Mary as she may not remember me, but she probably did know that I was the one the soldiers made to carry Jesus’ cross. I am numb and nauseous.

A group of Roman soldiers was standing next to me. We watched as the executioners finished nailing the two revolutionists to crosses, and now it was time to complete his work for the day. Once begun, it had to be professionally and efficiently completed and with little or no feeling. The crucifixion was the excitement of the day. This excitement was born of the fact that three Jews were about to be crucified. Of all the cruel and hideous forms of execution devised by man, crucifixion is the most tortuous.

The soldiers had stripped Jesus of his clothes and knocked him to the ground. Jesus lay naked, except for a cloth placed around his groin. I watched as they threw his weakened body on the large rough wooden cross cut from the jujube tree. The preparation for the crucifixion began when the executioners tore off the painful crown of thorns, reopening every wound on his head. His shoulders and back were torn to the bone by the dreadful scourging he had endured.

While Jesus was lying on the ground, they grasped his arms and pulled him backward over onto the cross with his arms outstretched. Soldiers knelt on each side to hold him fast. After they laid Jesus on the cross, they seized his right arm and dragged it to the hole prepared for the nail. Having tied it tightly down with rope, one soldier knelt on his chest, and a second held the hand flat; and the third, taking a long thick iron spike, pressed it on the open palm and, with a great iron hammer, drove it through the flesh and far into the wood of the cross. Jesus uttered one deep groan, and his blood gushed forth and sprinkled the arms of the soldiers.

Then the executioners pulled the left arm violently until it reached the other side of the cross. They again knelt upon him, tied down his arm, and drove the second spike into his left hand. Jesus was in indescribable agony; so they offered him some vinegar and gall, from which, however, he turned away in silence. Many turned away, but Jesus continued to pray.

The executioners then fastened a small saddle called a sidile cornuth at the lower part of the cross where Jesus’ feet would be nailed so that the weight of his body might not rest upon the wounds of his hands. They fastened his left foot on to his right foot, having first bored a hole through them with a pierce. Next they drove a very long iron stake completely through the arches of both feet into the cross, leaving the knees moderately flexed. They then replaced the crown of thorns and prepared to raise the cross into the standing position.

The cross was eighteen feet long and weighed over 135 pounds. It was over six inches in diameter in order to hold the man’s weight and withstand the violent twisting movements of a man who was being very painfully nailed to the cross. Although some people could drag it for a very short distance, it would be difficult for anyone to drag it further.

When the executioners had finished the crucifixion, they tied ropes to the trunk of the cross and fastened the ends of these ropes round a long beam, which was fixed firmly in the ground; and by means of these ropes, they raised the cross. Several soldiers supported it while others shoved the base of the cross toward the hole prepared for its reception. The heavy cross fell into this hole with a frightful jolt, and Jesus uttered a faint cry. His wounds were torn open wide, and his blood burst forth.

Blood was running down Jesus’ face from the crown of thorns that had been pushed into his forehead, but he made no sound until his head hit the back of the wooden cross, and the crown of thorns pressed against his torn scalp. The weight of his body pulled on his hands. The flesh against the nails caused intense pain, and Jesus slowly sags down with more weight on the nails in his hands.

His body was dirty and covered in blood. He had tears in his eyes from the excruciating pain. I had to turn away. I watched the ordeal in horror and disbelief. My tears were washed away by the rain. The rain washed away his tears too. The sign on the cross of Jesus read Iesus Nazarenus Rex Iudaeorum—Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.

Most of those immediately surrounding the crosses were intensely hostile. So bitter was their antagonism that having nailed Jesus to the cross, they would not allow him to die in peace. Even the revolutionist, caught under the spell of his bitter antagonism, added insults to the senseless howls of the mob and the cruel jibes of the Jewish leaders.

Many spectators turned away, some wept, and many cried out why? I looked at what is being done with expressive anguish—the jeering crowd, the brutality, and the suffering. What had they done? As I solemnly watched Jesus hanging there, I tried to remember him as the boy I grew up with in Nazareth. It didn’t help. This cruel and senseless act had left me numb. I did not know that on this fateful Friday that the world would be changed forever. I watched the ordeal in horror and disbelief. I sobbed openly and unashamedly.

At the very moment the cross was lifted up, the temple resounded with the blast of trumpets, which were always blown to announce the sacrifice of the Paschal Lamb. The crucifixion was complete.

EARLIER IN THE DAY

Nathan, my friend from Cyrene who accompanied me to Jerusalem for Passover, and I have been staying in Bethany with my cousin Jamin and his wife, Tabitha. We celebrated the Seder meal on the first night of Pesach last night; and early this morning, Jamin, Nathan, and I are going to Jerusalem to meet friends for breakfast. It is going to be a big weekend, full of anticipation, fellowship, and celebration.

We awoke just as the sun was coming up and began our short journey to the Holy City. What a beautiful day! What excitement! It was our first Passover in Jerusalem. We could hardly wait.

There it was, Jerusalem. The city is breathtakingly beautiful. No visitor seeing Jerusalem for the first time could not fail but be impressed by its visual splendor. Entering the city from the Mount of Olives is a sight like no other in the world. The Temple Mount can be seen for miles. What majestic beauty, and what a magnificent tribute to God!

The crowds were gathering in the city in preparation for the festival. We were caught up in the crowds of people lining the narrow streets, and as we were making our way through the crowds, we were suddenly stopped by Roman soldiers. They told us we must clear the way for three criminals about to be crucified. We were shocked as we knew nothing of what was happening. Then we saw the beginning of a procession.

Soldiers were pushing the crowds back as the procession moved through the dusty winding streets toward the hill outside the city. Six hundred Roman soldiers lined both sides of the street en route to Golgotha. The procession was preceded by a Roman trumpeter and then followed by a Roman herald announcing the names of the criminals who were being lead to their execution. The centurion soldiers on horses led the way through the crowd. Foot soldiers preceded the criminals. There were four soldiers ahead of each criminal, followed by a lead corporal carrying a titulus, or a small sign, to identify the man and his crime. The signs were made of thin pine board about two feet by one foot and were in three languages: Hebrew, Latin, and Greek. Four soldiers followed each prisoner, and then the crowds followed.

We had never witnessed a crucifixion before but had heard how brutally inhumane and cruel it was. An old man standing near us asked if we were strangers to Jerusalem, and I told him that we were, and I asked what was happening. He told us that there were two revolutionists from Jerusalem and a rabbi from Nazareth who were about to be crucified. He said the crucifixion had become the excitement of the day, not Passover.

The old man said, My name is Hashem, and I was a follower of John the Baptizer until John was beheaded by King Herod. This rabbi named Jesus was baptized by John, his cousin. Hashem said, "Jesus appointed twelve apostles as his inner circle. They claimed that he was the Son of God and was sent by God to save mankind. I then began to follow Jesus, who had many followers. Hashem said, Jesus had done no wrong, but he was caught up in the pride and greed of the day. Jesus said he did not come to change the law, but to fulfill the law."

Hashem said, "Jesus was facing the worst form of execution—crucifixion. The Sanhedrin could have asked that Jesus merely be banished as punishment for his presumed seditious activity, but they wanted him to be crucified."

I asked, Why did they insist on crucifixion?

Hashem told me that the book of Deuteronomy states, When someone is convicted of a crime punishable by death and is executed, and you hang him on a tree, his corpse must not remain all night upon the tree. You shall bury him that same day, for anyone hung on a tree is under God’s curse. The enmity against Jesus was so intense that the religious leaders desired to heap upon Jesus maximum indignity and shame out of pure political power.

At the time, I did not understand what Hashem was saying. He said I would understand more as this travesty of justice unfolds.

The crowd became difficult to control. They pushed, shouted insults, and made such a spectacle that Nathan, Jamin, and I become separated from one another. Hashem was right; this crowd was not a Passover crowd, but a crucifixion crowd, with a natural love of the gruesome and was hideously eager for the show. This eagerness was doubtless heightened by the fact that all three of the doomed men were well-known.

A long route was planned for the crucifixion so that as many people as possible could see the criminals and read of their crimes. The first part of the march was by a narrow road, hardly more than twelve feet wide up an incline, then sharply down into the valley below. At the bottom of the hill, the column turned left. This was on the edge of the marketplace. The marketplace is always crowded and busy. Only on the Sabbath is it empty.

The air had grown dark and damp, and heavy clouds began to cover the entire city. I began following the crowd through the Della Rosa Way to see if I could find Nathan and Jamin. The procession had slowed down when it reached an arch in the old city wall opposite the square. It began to move slowly as the road was very steep and rough between the wall of the city and Golgotha.

Preceding Jesus from Nazareth were the two revolutionists. They were carrying only the crosspiece, but Jesus was carrying the entire cross—the crosspiece and the post. I watched. I could not believe what was happening and turned away to make my way back through the crowd to look for my friends when I saw Jesus. I had not connected that he might be my boyhood friend until now. I was stunned. Could this be my boyhood friend Jesus? What did he do? Why is this happening? I tried to dismiss it from my mind, but I could not. I watched in disbelief.

Jesus staggered and fell in front of me, and the cross fell down on him. He was too weak to carry it further. Not surprising, for he had been flogged half to death. The soldiers were prodding the bent and bloody figure as he tried to shoulder the cross. It was awful, and I turned my eyes away from the suffering. The soldier in charge shouted at him to get up, but he couldn’t. How could anyone be so inhumane?

A great number of people were following him, and among them were women beating their breasts and wailing for him. Jesus turned to them and said, Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me but weep for yourselves and for your children. For the days are surely 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 when the wood is green, what will happen when it is dry?

Jesus had great difficulty walking with the heavy burden of carrying his cross. He had become so exhausted that he was unable to carry or even drag the huge wooden cross prepared for his execution. This should not surprise us. Hashem said that Jesus had been up all night, struggling in prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane, and then suffered mental and physical torment though several trials. He had been scourged so much, his back was raw.

The procession again moved on. Suddenly, for no known reason, a Roman soldier yelled at me. I turned to make my way back through the crowd when I heard the soldier call to me again. I tried to ignore the voice, but suddenly, a sword in my back told me he meant it. It was regulation not to refuse. He could do so because the Romans had the power to requisition people at any time for any service they desired to be performed. I was compelled to carry his cross. I felt empty—what I saw and experienced that day was dastardly. My day had turned into a day of a horrendous nightmare. As Jesus fell again, I was forced to bear the weight of his heavy cross up the steep mountainside to Golgotha.

As the cross is laid across my back, I too became covered with blood. Jesus’ back had been ripped wide open by the scourging. Blood soaked his clothes and ran down his back and legs onto the ground. The cross was coated with his blood. As I looked into his eyes, I knew then that this was my childhood friend Jesus. I said to him, Jesus, I am Simon, your friend. Jesus said, I know. It is no wonder that Jesus was not able to carry the cross. Even though he was a very strong, perfectly healthy young man, he had been horribly beaten and flogged nearly to death. His strength and very nearly his life were gone.

Why was I chosen for this task and not someone else? I believe this was a divine plan. I was elected by God and given the opportunity to carry Jesus’ cross, hear words from his lips, and watch his death. I took the cross on my shoulders and walked the dusty path the rest of the way. I had carried Jesus’ cross up the rugged hill to the top of Golgotha as the soldiers dragged Jesus’ weakened body to the place of crucifixion. I felt what Jesus felt, I heard what Jesus heard, and I saw what Jesus saw. When we reached Golgotha, my service was finished, but little did I know that my service to Jesus had only begun.

Jesus had endured so much suffering and had no rest during the night that physically, he had no strength to carry the cross. The burden was laid upon me. I carried his burden to Golgotha’s Hill. I had to walk most of the way from the praetorium to Golgotha. My knees buckled under the weight of the cross, and now the soldiers shouted and taunted me. God gave me the strength to carry Jesus’ cross for a while.

Had you been in Jerusalem on this fateful Friday, you would doubtless have been under the spell of the excitement of the hour. As I stood there, I was numb as to what was happening, I looked at Jesus hanging on the cross, suffering, and knew there was nothing I could do. I watched in silence as he quietly, painfully knew that the end would be soon. He had been crucified and would utter his first and last words from the cross.

9:00 a.m.

At this time, Jesus uttered in a gasping voice, Father, forgive them, for they know not what they are doing. [1]

These were the first words Jesus uttered from the cross, and then the soldiers cast lots to divide his clothing. The Jewish leaders scoffed at him, saying, "He saved others. Let him save himself if he is indeed the Messiah of God." The soldiers also mocked him, coming up and offering him sour wine and saying, "If