9-year-old Simon dragged the freshly cut olive tree limb to his father’s shop. “Here is the last one, Father. I stripped all the shoots off. I delimbed the trunk but it was too heavy for me to bring to the shop.”
“You will be shouldering the trunks soon enough, my son.” Rufus did welcome the idea of his son becoming a strong grown man who could carry a larger load of the family business, but he did not want to wish away his childhood. Besides, in four days, just after the Sabbath, Simon would travel with Rufus as he shipped a load of pulp across the Mediterranean.
Rufus’ business supplied wood used for crucifixion crosses to governors throughout the Roman world. The shipment would be ready in two days, but Huldah, Rufus’ wife, was a Jew and insisted that Simon learn to observe the Sabbath and other Jewish traditions.
There could be no working on the Sabbath, including delivering shipments. It was bad enough that Rufus supplied the Romans with a resource for their heinous persecution of her people, but to do it on their holy day was out of the question.
And life was much better for everyone when Huldah was happy.
“What is the destination for your current load?” Huldah asked Rufus as they and Simon shared the evening meal. She prayed his answer would not be the coast of Palestine.
“Cyprus,” Simon answered as he tore another piece of bread in two, gave one piece to Simon with a smile and began sopping his bowl with the other. “We will return three days after leaving.”
“Father, may I man the helm?” Simon always made this request of his father but seldom got a favorable answer in return.
Perhaps on our return trip, after our load is delivered.” Rufus knew how volatile the sea was and how easily the logs could roll off their small ship and into the water.
Most importantly, keep safe and dry.” Huldah was far more concerned about her son than about any logs the Romans would use to torture people.
——————————————————–
24-year-old Simon walked into his parents’ home. “ Mother, I’ll be leaving tomorrow with the shipment.”
But that will have you travelling back during Passover, will it not, my son?”
No, Mother, the shipment is going to Joppa. From there I will travel into Jerusalem for the Passover. Then I will return after the feast.”
You’ll be in Jerusalem for the Passover! Nothing could bring me greater joy! Oh, I am so very proud of you, son!”
“Thank you, Mother. I only wish you could be with me.” Simon knew that was not possible for his mother now, since she was advancing in years and declining in strength.
It’s ok, I will celebrate here in Cyrene with our Jewish brothers and sisters. I made my pilgrimage when I was younger, so I do not feel less fortunate.”
——————————————————–
Simon was just outside the crowded city of Jerusalem. Two full days on the ship and a very long day on a donkey, and he could feel every mile of the journey in his weary body. At least he would soon be reclining and enjoying the lamb, unleavened bread and wine of the feast, just another half mile to the eastern district of the city.
“You there!” A Roman soldier barked at Simon.
Simon turned to see a grimaced face staring down on him. “Me?” He was used to dealing with Rome, not being demeaned by them.
“Carry His cross!” The soldier pointed to a man stumbling under the weight of a cross, struggling to get it up the hill. Simon could see that the man, almost naked, had been badly whipped and beaten and wore, pressed into his head, a crown crudely crafted from thorny vines. Simon rushed to the man’s aid, lifting the cross as he had done so many times during his workdays.
“Thank you, sir, you are most kind.” The man struggled to speak, yet His genuineness came through very clearly.
“For what crime are You being crucified?” Simon blurted from his curiosity.
“All of them.” Simon did not understand the answer but it was the truth.
Simon processed what those words could have meant as he carried the cross to the top of the hill where more Roman soldiers commanded him to lay it down. He laid the cross down and turned to walk away. As he made his way back down the hill and back toward the Zion Gate, Simon struggled to understand how he would be able to enjoy the feast. The sound of hammers slamming onto nails and the screams of the men they tortured was difficult to hear. But hours after the hammering stopped, in Simon’s mind echoed memories of the hundreds of trees he’d prepared for such executions.
——————————————————–
Simon lay awake deep into the morning hours as he contemplated his abbreviated conversation days before with the battered man too exhausted to carry His cross. What crime? All of them. What could that mean.
Talk had already reached Cyrene of a man crucified in Jerusalem during Passover who was now alive again. What could that be about? Perhaps Simon would learn more on his next delivery trip to the Eastern Mediterranean.
And as they were coming out, they found a man of Cyrene named Simon whom they compelled to carry His cross. – Matthew 27:32
