Identity Theft (23 page)

On closer examination, I realized I was arrayed in the typical garb of a first-century Jewish man. Even my arms and legs, I noticed, were darker and hairier.
Sweet
, I thought—this was a nice change from my normal, fair, European-Ashkenazi complexion. Then I had another thought,
How cool would it be if
… I touched my face. Yes! A full beard! Now that was something I could never do before. I was smiling, but not for long.

I walked inside the palace courtyard and standing before a loud and angry crowd was Yeshua, bloodied and bruised, beside someone who looked to be an important Roman dignitary, or ruler.

As I stood there, an order was given and He was taken away by soldiers into the palace, and not gently. I followed behind, amazed at my own fearlessness. The whole company of soldiers surrounded Him. They took His hands and tied them to a post. Another soldier produced a whip that had multiple leather tails, and near the end of each tail were tied lethal shards of lead and glass.
My God! They’re going whip Him with that thing!

Just before they did, everything froze in time and a screen rose up from the ground. It was the size of a widescreen TV. A man appeared on the screen. He was not speaking to me but to a lecture hall of students. He was in his late thirties, and while I was sure he was a Bible teacher, he wasn’t dressed in religious attire at all—just jeans, a T-shirt and a sports coat. He didn’t talk like a religious person, either. He was a regular guy. I liked him already.

A flogging was such a barbarous, intense, horrendous mode of suffering that many men simply died from it. They stripped the victim almost naked, which is very shameful in Eastern Jewish ancient culture. The man’s neck and shoulders and back and legs and buttocks would be exposed and bare. And on each side would stand a professional executor and he would have a cat-of-nine-tails. It was a handle from which preceded straps of leather. At the end of each strap was a ball made out of stone or metal and with spikes or bone protruding. The metal would tenderize the man’s body and the hooks would sink deeply into the man’s flesh.

Then the executioner would take a tug on the cat-of-nine-tails to make sure that the hooks were sunk deeply into the man’s flesh. And then he would literally rip the flesh off the man’s body. The flesh on the man’s back would look like ribbons. He would be a bloodied mess. His body would be absolutely traumatized and thrown into shock.
¹

As the screen retracted I heard a loud
snap!
as the first lash was laid. The sharp and deadly thongs of the whip dug deep into the flesh on Yeshua’s back as the soldier violently jerked the whip back, “
No!
” I shouted, but no one heard me, as the crude weapon continued to rip His back apart, as it was laid upon Him again and again. The soldiers were laughing. They were actually enjoying this! Only when the count reached thirty-nine did the torment finally end. Yeshua remained upright only because His arms were tied to the post.

A couple of soldiers went to untie Him. “Smack!” one of the Roman guards struck Yeshua in the face with all his might, drawing blood. The blow was followed by another one, as they continued to goad and mock Him. Yet Yeshua did not retaliate. He just looked at them with compassion. I was stunned. Isaiah’s words drifted through my mind as if the prophet were whispering them to me.

He was oppressed and afflicted, yet He did not open His mouth; He was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before its shearers is silent, so He did not open His mouth.

The soldiers then took some thorny branches and proceeded to twist them crudely into a wreath, forming a makeshift crown. As they roughly thrust it upon His head, the long sharp thorns dug deeply into His scalp, causing Him to visibly wince and draw in breath as blood trickled from His punctured brow. Then they covered His nakedness by adorning Him in a purple robe. They began to mock Him, “Hail King of the Jews.” Still, He didn’t respond.

Those fools! They had no idea that they were beating the very One who gave them life, as again and again, they struck Him over the head and spat on Him. Then, they knelt down before Him in mock homage. Finally, tiring of this charade, they removed the robe and put His own clothes back on His bloodied body. I thought I was going to be sick.

At this point, He was handed over to another garrison who led Him out and laid a heavy wooden cross upon His raw and lacerated back, strapping it to His body. After all this, they were going to make Him carry His own execution stake—the cross on which He was to be impaled! Written on a sign that they would later fasten to the cross were the words, “King of the Jews” in Aramaic, Latin, and Greek (don’t ask me how I knew!). The Jewish leaders protested, but the Roman centurion, who appeared to be running the show, refused to have it removed.

Suddenly, they were steering Him in my direction.
Should I run? Should I hide?
But actually, I did neither. I simply froze. A man next to me huddled with his two boys, probably visiting Jerusalem for the Passover. He certainly hadn’t brought them here to see this! They appeared just as stunned as I was.

As they neared, Yeshua collapsed under the weight of the massive cross, slamming His already beaten body against the stone pavement, crushing Him and then pinning Him to the ground. He was physically unable to get up. One of the soldiers started to say something to the man next to me, but when he noticed his sons, he turned to me instead and said something in Greek. Amazingly, I understood him and then realized that the guards had also been speaking in Greek this whole time, and I had understood.

“You! Carry His cross!” He barked at me. Surprisingly, I wasn’t scared. I didn’t hesitate. I ran to Yeshua and with great exertion, I unstrapped and lifted the heavy beam off His body. It must have weighed well over one hundred pounds. Tears were streaming down my face as this innocent Rabbi lifted His head. His face was half covered in dirt and gravel that now clung to the blood on His check.

And then He looked up at me—or should I say
in me
or
through me. Love
personified gazed into my soul and His eyes penetrated my very being. I felt totally exposed before Him. In that instant, I knew that He knew every wicked thing I had ever done—every time I had secretly looked at pornography, yelled at my wife, or disrespected my parents. He saw. He knew every time I had lied or cheated. He could see every petty grudge I’d ever held, how jealous I was of more successful writers and bloggers, and the pride—oh, the pride of life that consumed me!

In light of what He was suffering, my selfish ambition seemed so absurd. I suddenly felt guilty for joining in with the other students and bullying Rudy Green in Hebrew school. And then, I felt horrible shame for pressuring Beth Sanger to sleep with me in high school, taking her virginity, assessing its value at about the same level as taking a friend’s pencil for a test.
What had I done?
I then heard these words in my mind:

For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart. Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give account
(Hebrews 4:12-13).

Laid bare
…yes, that was exactly how I felt. He could see everything. I was surrounded by a thousand Roman swords, but the worst they could do was pierce my flesh. The eyes of Yeshua dug deep into the darkest recesses of my soul, leaving me utterly exposed and without excuse.

I thought my heart would burst. I wept for my sin. I wept for those I had hurt.
He
was suffering today for
my
sins. In the past, if I did something that I knew was wrong, I might feel a tinge of guilt, but ultimately would justify my behavior.
What’s the big deal? Everyone does it.
Every successive time, it became easier and easier—always less guilt than the time before, and finally—no guilt at all.

Now I was seeing that my sin was indeed a big deal. My sin was doing this to Yeshua. This was not a lamb, bull, or goat at the Temple—this was the Messiah, God’s Son, and He was going through this hellish ordeal in order that I might be pardoned! How could I resist love like this any longer!?

Again, I heard Isaiah’s voice in my mind:

But He was pierced for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on Him.

I could not break His gaze. All this time, I’d thought that David Lebowitz was a good guy.
What had I done that was so evil,
I would reason,
I am not as bad this one, or that one.
My problem was that I only compared myself to those around me—my friends and co-workers. But now, looking into the very essence of righteousness, I realized how desperately short I had fallen. Even my good deeds were invariably motivated by pride and ambition.

Isaiah’s voice was almost audible:

All of us have become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous acts are like filthy rags; we all shrivel up like a leaf, and like the wind our sins sweep us away
(Isaiah 64:6).

At which point another voice broke into my consciousness:

The fool says in his heart, “There is no God.” They are corrupt, their deeds are vile; there is no one who does good. The Lord looks down from heaven on all mankind to see if there are any who understand, any who seek God. All have turned away, all have become corrupt; there is no one who does good, not even one
(Psalm 14:1-3).

I was experiencing the rudest of awakenings! I was two thousand years in the past on the dusty streets of Jerusalem, with the dying Messiah only a few inches away. I was seeing myself for the first time and it was true—David Lebowitz was not a good guy at all. He was selfish, petty, unforgiving, and corrupt, just like everyone else. I deserved God’s judgment.

Then I heard in my spirit:

Oh, what a miserable person I am! Who will free me from this life that is dominated by sin and death? Thank God! The answer is in
[Yeshua the Messiah]
our Lord…
(Romans 7:24-25 NLT).

For what one earns from sin is death; but eternal life is what one receives as a free gift from God, in union with the Messiah Yeshua, our Lord…
(Romans 6:23 CBJ).

Yes! He is my only hope. He is anyone and everyone’s only hope! Despite His knowing everything there was to know about me, I felt no judgment—only indescribable, unsurpassable love and compassion. Despite all the pain, the beatings, and flogging that He had endured, a slight, but undeniable smile that expressed a brotherly affection that I had never felt before appeared on His face as He looked at me. He seemed to be telling me that everything would be okay. He was actually in control.

Note

1
.   Material based on information taken from Mark Driscoll, “Jesus Died” (sermon, Mars Hill Church, Seattle, Washington, April 1, 2012), accessed November 20, 2012,
http://castroller.com/Podcasts/MarsHillChurch/2831461
.

“
Ahhh!
” I cried out as a big Roman boot found my stomach.

“Get up!” the soldier hissed.

The pain brought me back to the harsh present reality, stealing me from His holy gaze. In fact, had it not been for that Roman boot, I don’t think I could have broken away from His stare. While it had only been a matter of seconds, it had felt like eternity. So much had been communicated in that brief fragment of time. With another heave, I shouldered the cross and they marched us a little over a quarter mile, outside the city walls, to the place where they would crucify Him.

I was finally ordered to stop and I lowered the heavy crossbeam to the ground. The dreaded moment had arrived—but just before they would nail Him to the wooden beam, the tablet came forth again from the earth as the young Bible teacher returned on the flat screen. Everything and everyone around me froze. The teacher said:

The ancient Jewish historian Josephus called crucifixion the most wretched of deaths. They could hang for upwards of nine days, going in and out of consciousness, stripped almost, or altogether, naked. It was done publicly; it was state-sponsored terror, meant to instill fear in any other would-be lawbreakers. This would be like crucifying people in front of a local mall, or a store or a park, the kind of place where people frequented often and large crowds would gather.

The body is in such trauma and shock at this point that men are weeping; they are in and out of consciousness, and dripping off of their bodies would be tears and blood. For some this was sport. They thought this was entertaining.
¹

The flat screen descended into the earth and the crucifixion began. I wanted to turn away, but I also wanted these soldiers to know that I would be a witness to their vile deed. No, I would watch it all, I decided as a soldier grabbed Yeshua’s arm and held it down on the crossbar, while another soldier pulled out a massive nail, resembling a railroad spike—it was at least six inches long—and placed it firmly against the right hand
²
of Yeshua. A mallet was produced and without wasting any time, with a loud grunt, he brought the head of the hammer down firmly on the center of the nail, pushing deep into the center of the Messiah’s hand, between two bones. Yeshua winced, but said nothing. Another strike and it appeared that the spike made its way clear through His flesh, into the wood. A few more blows of the hammer and Yeshua appeared to momentarily lose consciousness as His hand was fastened to the wood. And then the other hand was secured to the beam in the same manner.