Simon of Cyrene

I was there…I only went out for a walk.

I know, I know I shouldn’t have. Everyone knows it’s against the law to leave the city confines after Passover begins but I was so restless. I was missing my beautiful Cyrene, with its fresh sea breezes and it’s lush rolling hills. Don’t get me wrong, I’m devout -- as pious as the next man. Didn’t I travel all the way from my home to worship God in the Temple? It’s a long way to Jerusalem from what I think you call North Africa now.

I came with devotion in my heart but the city was so crowded, and the smell of blood from all those Passover lambs hung heavy in the air. The atmosphere was so tense and I just couldn’t settle. So I got up early, really early, before anyone was about and walked out to the fields around Jerusalem.

It was such a good decision. The air smelt fresh. I heard the birds singing. My heart lifted. I had been so cooped up and now I felt free. It was so beautiful that I spent longer than I meant to.

It was such a bad decision. As I strolled back to Jerusalem, enjoying the clean spring air, I ran into some Roman soldiers, with a crowd of people and, to my horror, some people on the way to be crucified. No one likes a crucifixion, apart from the Romans that is. They seem to get a strange pleasure from the torment they inflict. No normal person likes a crucifixion but they are useful for keeping the peace. I glanced at the group making their slow, tortured way to the crucifixion site. Yes, the usual kind of suspects. Clearly bandits who made their money robbing respectable traders like me and sowing unrest among law abiding citizens. Maybe next time their compatriots would think again next time.

Just then, the one at the back collapsed. I hadn’t seen him before – the burly figures of those at the front had obscured him from my view. He wasn’t like the others, who were cursing and swearing their way along the road. He was completely silent. Mad as it seems in the midst of the pain and rage that swirled around him, he seemed to exude a deep stillness. His was a slight build, almost as though he had spent his days walking from place to place. He was in a bad way. He had clearly been flogged long and hard before starting his last, long walk to agony and death. From his place on the ground, he battled to rise again. He was tough, his courage was evident but his strength was gone. The heavy cross beam strapped to his shoulders kept him pinned to the ground. Mesmerised I took half a step forward and immediately regretted it. Roman soldiers grabbed me by each arm and in no time at all, the crossbeam had been moved from the shoulders of man on the floor to my own.

The soldiers kicked him to his feet and for one long moment, he looked deep into my eyes. He said nothing – he was beyond words – but no words were necessary. In that moment I was made new. I was loved, forgiven somehow, whole and free. If I could I would have done far more than just carry that crossbeam. In that moment my life changed forever.

So much has happened since then. My sons Alexander and Rufus have joined me as followers of The Way. I take every chance I can to tell people about this man – Jesus I discovered his name was – who changed my life in a single moment. People sometimes worry about his teachings – ‘surely taking up your cross and following him is asking too much?’ -- they say. ‘Wouldn’t his teachings be more popular if you just made them a bit easier?’ I tell them ‘Taking up your cross is the least you can do. It’s only too costly if you don’t see the love. In that one moment on the road to the crucifixion I saw a love so broad and deep and wide that I simply couldn’t take it in. I have spent my life ever since growing into that it. Don’t get me wrong, taking up your cross is costly – it might be the most costly thing you ever do -- but nothing could be more worth it. I took up his cross – I’d do it again tomorrow’.

I was there…I only went for a walk. It was the worst and best decision of my life.