The Eyes of the Master

Francis, a Roman soldier
The little white fluffy lamb was bleating. He was oozing blood form a fatal wound. A wolf was circling around him growling and licking his chops, just biding his time for a tasty feast. The lamb looked at me with eyes of love. How strange I thought. Then I looked down at my hand and there was a blood covered sword. I opened my hand and dropped the sword. As it hit the ground it made an awful clanging sound and echoed in my ears.

I was awakened by the alarm that called us to the auditorium. Andrea, our captain, was shouting orders for us to assemble all the while clanging that bell. Soldiers were hard, cruel men. They could be soft at items, but it didn’t pay to be too soft with the jobs we were called to do. I remember only too well the day we were ordered to kill all little boys 2 years old and under. I did my job, but I didn’t relish the task. It still haunted me sometimes. I could still hear the young mothers screaming. Maybe that’s why I kept dreaming about the wounded lamb. I couldn’t afford to get soft now. What would I do if I wasn’t a soldier? I had some money saved. Maybe I should retire, buy that little villa and then what?

Piero came up to me and said to get a move on. I finished buckling on my sword, grabbed my helmet and started toward the auditorium. Piero started to fill me in about the three we were crucifying today. God, I hated crucifixions! It was our job, I knew, but why torture someone to death? Why not just do it quick and clean? They all ended up dead in the end. We were crucifying two minor thieves and a notorious thief and murderer named Barabus. I was glad we finally caught him. Peiro pulled me out of my thoughts. What did he say? They let Barabus go? I stopped walking and stopped him. “What did you say, man?”

He looked at me incredulously, ”I said they let Barabus go and replaced him with that healer.”

I couldn’t take it in. “But, but, Barabus?” I shook my head and continued on to the auditorium. Now I heard it all, I thought. There in the center of the room stood a bloody mass of human flesh. Someone had crowned his head with thorns. He held a reed in His hand and wore an old cast off princely robe. The men were mockingly treating him like he was a king. His face was so misshapen from the beating of fists and covered with spit from the soldiers, he was unrecognizable. Blood covered every inch of him. As I was wondering why the men were being so harsh to this one prisoner, He looked up into my eyes. I almost jumped in startled surprise. It was the eyes of the little, dying lamb in my dream. The love I saw in
those eyes flowed right into me. Then someone stepped between me and Him. They were drawing lots to see who would be given the job of crucifying these three men. I knew before I reached in my hand to choose a stone that mine would be a black one. I was put in charge of crucifying this guiltless man.