Looking Back This Week

Writer

Looking back this week is slim due to my travels, but the articles that did come out were heavy. Donald Trump dropped the ball on abortion, and I addressed that in Deep Survival. What that was all about was the tendency of people, while in the midst of a winning streak, or performing everyday tasks will sometimes do the dumbest things for apparently no reason, either getting killed, or in this case, killing a political career. While it remains to be seen how much damage the statement in question caused, one would think that the “Donald” would have at least taken a breath before making it. We shall see.

I’ve always viewed “No Knock” warrants as an affront to the 4th Amendment and Knock Knock is a prime example of this. I’m still looking into the event, the cops claiming the entire drug cartel was holed up in the apartment, while the man arrested is saying he was just reading his Bible, you know, you get that. The esteemed District Attorney of Bell County, Texas has seen fit to charge the man with capital murder. I’m not going to put this down. If this was a home invasion, and the man was just defending himself I’m gonna let the D. A. taste my mutton and see how he likes it.

The Eight-Hundred-Pound Gorilla and Votes, Lies, and Videotapes basically deal with the same subject, the subject being that the Republican Party is by no means “pubic” but a “Good Ol’ Boys” club that does what it damn well pleases, and its supporters can just stuff it. I was very pleased to see that following that post Wild Bill For America followed with The End of the GOP. Like me, he is direct, to the point, and calls it like it is, which is, the Republican Party has been out of control for years, and Donald Trump is on them like Chris Hansen on a pervert! They may get their way this time, but this is not going to end well for the Party. Trump has a broad base support, and the smoke and mirrors generated by his own party is so obvious that the blind man down on Main Street can see it.

It’s good to be back in Texas. Travel is great, but those 737 wheels touching down in Austin is better. I found the Mormon Culture to be a little more mundane than I’d supposed, basically a survivalist sect, bent on isolation out of disgust at what’s happening in America today. Kinda like Texas. I’m convinced that if Texas and Utah team up the fat lady will definitely sing. Joseph did you know we’s all gonna ride the train?

Hot Check to Jesus

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When I woke up this morning

And Stared out the window

I could not believe what I had done

I’d wrote a hot check to Jesus

For ten thousand dollars

When my bank account only held thirty-one!

 

As you know, I don’t get into all this “end of the world” stuff. That having been said, I sat up watching two documentaries last night. The last one was a movie about Flight 93 and it had a profound effect on me. Also, I’d been reading up on the nature of Islam, and 9/11 for about three days, and, of course, I had to weed through all the conspiracy theories. I’m not going to say conspiracy “nuts” because I caught a couple of tidbits that got my attention. One was the analyzation of the second hit on the twin towers and the wing of the plane distinctly goes behind a building that was behind the Trade Center. I understand digital rendering, but I believe there were real planes hitting those buildings simply because there were too many people who were there and saw it. George Bush didn’t fly, buy, or arrange those planes, Islam did, and when I say that I mean all of Islam. Those who weren’t on the planes were standing on the rooftops cheering. That’s ‘cause they hate us folks!

I want to give you what’s called a dichotomy.

di·chot·o·my

dīˈkädəmē/

noun

  1. a division or contrast between two things that are or are represented as being opposed or entirely different.

“a rigid dichotomy between science and mysticism”

synonyms: contrastdifferencepolarityconflict;

 

Ask yourself, if El Chapo were to have his way, just what do you suppose he’d do? Would he seek to totally destroy the very culture, and economy that buys his “product?” Now Chapo is evil, ok. I mean, he leaves sacks of heads in the police parking lot, but he doesn’t want to burn down America, or every other country for that matter, and he doesn’t care if you pray to a water melon! Then there is Islam. Islam is kinda like that pretty girl you run across who seems to be everything you’ve ever wanted until you find out she’s got the clap! It came from an ignorant man who could not read. For the record, Jesus could read! The Prophet of Islam drifted along, and when he wasn’t diddling little girls he was babbling some nonsense that he claimed came from an other-worldly source.

I’m gonna get real with you, ok? I do believe in revelations between the Creator and man, but no angel appeared in a cave. Well, maybe appeared in Mohammed’s crazy mind. I mean, people can claim anything. The Prophet, Penn Jillette once told me, “If you are mystified you just don’t understand the trick!” Someone gives you a “cock and bull” story, and the dots just don’t seem to connect, so what to do? Well, if you have the “faith” you ignore the dots and go trucking right on. A warm fuzzy will take you a long way. I’ve read the “Holy Qu’ran” folks, and it’s a “cock and bull “story. I’ve read the Book of Mormon, too, and I don’t believe that either, but at least Joseph Smith knew what a through line was. As a matter of fact, while I’m on that story, look at the way the Book of Mormon is laid out, and then look at the Qu’ran, and you will very easily see what is wrong with the Arab mind. Uh, they’re crazy! The “revelations” track very closely to Mohammed’s life and situation at the time. The whole book sounds like an old Flip Wilson routine. The devil made him do it! Don’t believe me? Just check out the Satanic Verses. Old Mo’ want’s had a wife or two that didn’t follow the party line, so he comes up with “goddesses.” When the brethren questioned this he claimed he got his wires crosses and picked up a call from the Devil. Inspiration? There was a scribe who traveled a great distance to work with “the prophet.” During one session the scribe suggested rewording a passage, and Mohammed said, “Yeah, that’s cool. Write that.” I am a realist. I’ve become one over many years, and it has served me well. When Jesus said, “Blessed are the poor,” Matthew didn’t say, “Hey, J. C., better make that ‘Blessed are the underprivileged,” and Christ said, “Yeah, put that in.” And, I’ve been up here with the Mormons for most of a month, but I’m not going to jellyfish. You tell me some kid found eighty-eight pounds of gold and didn’t pawn in and I’m gonna laugh right in your friggin’ face!

Now that I’ve ticked off the guys who bought my meal in Salt Lake City on Easter, the Mormons follow their book and look at what they do. Knock on your door and ask you to read the book. The Muslims follow their book and what do they do. Kill your fifteen-year-old daughter for wearing lip stick!  Radical Muslims want to kill your daughter. Moderate Muslims want Radical Muslims to kill your daughter. Like the homies in Killeen say, “Whomp! Dey it is!” Western thought is the end product of the evolution of mankind. Now I said Western thought. That includes all things western! The white man, the black white man, and yes, even El Chapo. We see things a certain way, a way that the Oriental mind can never come to grips with. When El Chapo delivers that sack of heads, at least he knows he’s wrong. When those fools boarded the planes of 9/11 they really thought they were going to that big whorehouse in the sky. Swat them bees! Hey! Seventy-two virgins? Give me a break. Know why Jesus wasn’t born in Mecca? ‘Cause they couldn’t find three wise men and a virgin, that’s why!

The picture on this article was something I stumbled across this morning over coffee. I got it from a video someone sent me. At first I laughed it off, but the guy made a profound point. The Greek letters for “666” spell “in the name of Allah” in Arabic. It’s black and white, folks. I’ve done dozens of articles about Revelation, and written a book, Sharon, about universality. I know how words can be twisted over centuries to make them say just about anything you want, and I know the arguments about the “historical” Jesus. The way I see it God gave me a brain for a reason, and it wasn’t to parrot behind some camel driver, or some deranged preacher with a Bible in one hand, and a collection plate in the other, it was to use that brain to explain what God really meant, as far as I understand it, and when I meet Jesus, if I ever do, and He tells me I got it all wrong, I would much rather take a butt whipping from Jesus than a blessing from Mohommed!

Theology is man’s feeble attempt to explain the unexplainable. Theology is the greatest “dot connector” of all time, but the litmus test is if your theology hurts someone then God has nothing to do with it. God gathers, Satan scatters. I can’t count the times some “force” got between me and catastrophe. I’ve recently seen two little boys delivered from the bottom of a swimming pool safe when they should have been dead! I believe in that God. That’s not saying that bad things don’t happen. If you stand up for Jesus he doesn’t have to give you a butt whipping, the world will! It’s called picking up your cross. Hey, I read that in the Bible. (And ya’ll thought I was an old “Reptile Bait” huh?)

I said in the beginning of this article that I don’t buy into the “end of the world” stuff, but I do understand that the Arabs have been assembling for over fourteen hundred years to destroy everything that isn’t what they consider “holy.” We, as civilized men and women cannot tolerate that, and be it, Revelation, Armageddon, or just good ol’ World War III, we have to rid the earth of their shadow. We have to maintain whatever we define as faith, be it Mormon or Methodist, or just the little church on the corner, and not write a “Hot Check to Jesus.”

Texas State of Mind

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A Texas state of mind is a powerful thing. It impedes me at times. Sometimes, when I come upon a story it hits me so hard that I have to let it brew for a couple of days before I comment. That’s because the media world is so filled with gay, panty waist, politically correct fools that my initial idea would be too strong for them. Take the story of Father Tom. ISIS works overtime to show their asses. Hey, sometimes you just gotta tell it like it is. First off, I’m a racist. Isn’t that refreshing? A white guy who just comes out with that and tells people who disagree to shove it. I think that most all Arabs are greasy, illiterate, woman hating queers who rape five-year-old l little girls and won’t eat a ham sandwich. That comes from having seen Arabs who are greasy, illiterate woman hating queers who rape five-year-old little girls, and won’t eat a ham sandwich. Then, there are Muslims, and last, but not least, there is ISIS.

Now ISIS isn’t unique. Arabs have had these kinds of idiots for millennia. And, it’s always the same. They find some passage in the “Holy Kolan,” and, no, I didn’t misspell that, that’s how these sand bunnies pronounce it, and take said passage to mean kill everything! On a good day they chop the head off a teenage girl for wearing Levis, and our government call them our “allies.” (We killed Hitler for less, folks.) So, ISIS reached into its bag of tricks and came up with the most offensive thing they could do. Crucify a Catholic Priest on Easter! Like I said, a Texas state of mind is a powerful thing. When I first read this I wanted to kill every Arab on the Planet, their wives, kids, grandkids, dogs, cats, and they guy who washed their car. Hey, that’s just me. I’ve modified my stance. I’m gonna let the guy in the car wash go.

This is what it takes, people! If you turn the other cheek with these jokers, they’ll just cut your head off from the left side. There is a vast gulf between a bunch of Mormons who don’t want you in their temple unless you obey their rules, and a religion that plans the extermination of the human race, including their own people, based on the idiotic ramblings of a pedophile. Now, ya’ll know me, and my views of organized religion. I don’t buy into all this “Satan” crap, but I gotta say, if you show me a philosophy designed to eradicate the entire human race, I’ll show you Satan!

When ISIS hit Texas we killed them. If they come back, we’ll re-kill them. If they keep messing with Texas, you will see the day when a woman in a Burqua shopping at H. E. B. will be refused service. When they crowd the streets you will see people with baseball bats, and yes, guns! Don’t Mess With Texas. I’m a former Catholic. I became a former Catholic when the Pope declared the Bible and Qu’ran of equal status. Islam is not a religion, it is a system, and it is not peaceful.

This is a hard teaching, and many will walk away, but folks, somebody had to say it. We have to hate these people. It’s not against the law to hate someone who is trying to kill you and your family. It’s not against the law to be raging mad at a gentle man being nailed to a cross because some pervert thinks it’s funny, and it’s not against the law to kick their asses out of Texas, and hopefully the USA, too. It’s against natural law to be led like a lamb to slaughter. I am not a lamb, and got my ticket to hell a long time ago. That’s a Texas state of mind. Pray for Father Tom, ‘cause he’s damn sure praying for you!

The Great Credit Card In The Sky

What makes Easter so special? A large portion of the world pauses, takes a breath, considers at this time, and recounts a most amazing story of a simple Rabbi some two thousand years ago. Jesus never wrote a grocery list, yet He was literate as borne out by His act of reading in Synagogue. The record of His life and death was trusted to others, some hundreds of years after His death. During his life he predicted His death, and outlined the reasons, which went contrary to Jewish thought of His day. The Jews had ideas of a new King David, who would come and subject the world beneath Israel, ruling with justice and a reverence to the one true God. Jesus had a game plan exactly one hundred and eighty degrees from that.

If you take the Gospels as strictly historical documents you can easily pick them apart for inconsistencies. There are many theories on just how the Gospels came about, one, called the “Q” Gospel, tries to expound the idea that there was one central Gospel, and all others sprang from that. The Gospel of John throws a Menorah in the middle of that idea. The three synoptic Gospels concern themselves with the “what” of Jesus’ ministry. The Book of John examines the “Why.”

Jesus picked Matthew for a specific reason. Matthew was a tax collector, and modern imagery projects a picture of a man, sitting in some office, counting coins and turning them over to the Romans. Matthew had another talent. There were no “1040” forms back then, and if there had been most people couldn’t write anyway, so the evaluation of tax was left up to the tax collector. Matthew would sit by the post, watching fishermen bring in their catch, count rapidly, and making shorthand notes of who caught what, and how many. It wasn’t perfect, but it was close enough for government work. This same Matthew sat near Jesus during the Sermon of the Mount, and didn’t miss a single word! A postage stamp size piece of parchment, found in Egypt over a century ago has been examined and found to be most likely originating in, or about the year 60 AD, which means it was copied from a document most likely coming from Matthew’s actual hand. This demonstrates the innate accuracy of the Book of Matthew, and flies in the face of any “Q” document.

That having been said, most of the Gospels came down through oral history. After the crucifixion the Apostles went in eleven different directions at once, telling the story of Jesus to whomever would listen. Then add in the Apostle Paul, Mark, and always remember that Mary was still alive. You don’t think she talked about her boy? You don’t even have to be Catholic to accept that! The story of Jesus of Nazareth spread out like a Beatles Record across the Roman world. Did you ever look closely at the King James Bible. Just the titles of the Gospels. The Gospel ACCORDING to St. Mark, or Luke, or John, not BY them! The reasoning is very simple. As the apostles, and others spread the word, Christians really believed that Jesus would be back the day after tomorrow. Add a couple hundred years to this, and some enlightened individuals thought, “We’d better write this down!” Unlike the Qu’ran, that came hot off the presses even as Mohammed drew his last breath, it was left to Christians to pull together bits and pieces when they realized that Jesus’ plan of action was a bit wider that previously imagined.

The plan was actually very simple. It was a system of debits and credits. Mankind had run up a bill, and Jesus picked up the tab. Basically it was impossible for man not to fall. He was designed to fall. That was all part of the plan. An all knowing God played Satan like a fiddle, using Satan’s conniving nature to complete His creation. Creating a man from dust was the easy part, but to make man in the image of God required something more . . . A soul! An unseen being within a being. A driving force that could never die, residing within the “egg” of a physical body, waiting to emerge and take its rightful place with God in the eternal kingdom. This entity had to be created, or born. After that it had to grow, and mature, but it could never be perfect. An assist was needed. To put the polish on the apple God came up with an idea. Since He, and only He could ever be perfect, He’d just come up with a way to share some of Himself with this new creation to round out the deal. The sins would come, that was a given, but since there is no deficit in heaven someone had to pick it up, and God just did it Himself! Sin is just divination from God’s plan. He only gave us ten rules with the full understanding that we couldn’t even follow that any more than we could adhere to the Sermon on the Mount, so we ended up with a system of sin and punishment, which was just, but God didn’t want that, He wanted to complete His creation and SOMEbody had to pay the tab. That was a rule even God wouldn’t break because to ignore sin would just be a lie, and God cannot lie!

Jesus called it being “born again,” and had quite a time explaining this concept to a tax collector, a few fishermen, and a bunch of hard headed preachers hanging out over at the Temple, who all had their eyes firmly fixed upon what they deemed to be “reality!” He frequently used the phrase, ” Those who have eyes to see,” and you would never have those eyes unless you allowed those eyes to be born. If you did not accept the plan you would be forever spiritually blind. The price was horrendous. Nay-Sayers reason that God must be a cruel master for killing His own son in such a fashion, but they miss the entire point. God didn’t kill his son, he killed HIMSELF! The Muslims go on and on about one God, and they are correct as far as that goes, but where they veer off onto a camel path is not understanding the personalities or power of God. God manifests Himself in multiple ways, but it’s always God. He can be a spirit, or a carpenter from a small village in Israel if that’s what he wants to do. Mohammed could never see that because he never accepted the “eyes.”

So, Jesus went up on that cross, created the bank account, and made all mankind co-signers. The creation was now complete. It doesn’t matter if you buy into evolution, of believe man was made from a clot, in the end, if you understand God’s master plan, you get a well rounded human being, spit and polished, ready for eternity. Pretty good for seven days work, even for God!

Atheists, agnostics, and of course Muslims pick apart the story of Jesus with blind eyes. Everything from rewriting it, all the way up to trying to say He didn’t even exist at all, and His ministry was some kind of Rabbinical theory expounded in the first century. In spite of all of this they still can’t prove that a wood worker just got up one Sunday morning and walked out of his tomb like He had good sense! They point to other men who supposedly did the same thing all through history, but if you can understand that God is above time, and Jesus split that time at Golgotha, could it be that these images, both forward and back, reflect that image like two mirrors facing each other with the event going endlessly into eternity both ways? It’s called parallel universes, and yes, God runs them, too, deal with it!

The plan remains the same. You can chant on your Rosary beads, thump that Bible, or scream the Islamic call to prayer until your face turns blue, but you will never change the plan, nor the outcome if you are not signed up to that bank account in the sky. God sifts His chosen, but there is a janitor in the bank lobby, ready to lure the greedy, the doubters, and the devious over to his side. God never forces. He speaks with a soft voice, and His greatest creation was free will. People wonder how if God is an all knowing God that we still have free will. Think of it this way. The cosmos is like a book, and God is the author. Of course He knows the outcome of the general plot of the book. Shucks, He even told us that in Revelation! But, as God creates man He gives us personality, and then He sits back and allows those personalities to peruse their own course, much like you would give rules to a children and then allow them to play in the yard. God creates man over and over again, each time a baby is conceived, and the word is CONCEIVED, in the MIND of God! He just uses us to enact the physical body. All the rest is already set up, and when you try to alter that set up you try to impeach God! Did you think that baby’s soul died under the abortionist’s knife? No indeed! They are sitting with God waiting for those people to explain their theories on the last day. At the moment of conception God already knows that person, has already planted the seed, and waits for the seed to sprout. He allows free will because He wants friends, not robots.

Easter is the one day of the year that we are reminded that the plan is still in effect. It’s the one time that believers come together and remember Jesus, who He was, and what He really did to perfect us to join Him. He never wrote a book, never raised a sword, and never forced anyone to accept the plan, yet that message went all over the world, and the janitor waits to pervert it in any way he can, but that’s ok, because God also set up an unemployment line with no check at the end. Happy Easter folks!

Good Friday

CHAPTER THREE AS WE ARE ONE

It is Friday evening. The small girl knelt before the tabernacle to pray. She took out her Rosary, and loosened the white scarf that was around her head. Letting it drape loosely she began, “I believe in God, the Father Almighty, maker of Heaven and earth. I believe in his only Son, our Lord, Jesus Christ. . . ” As she prayed, she thought of each part of the prayer. The Rosary is a mental, as much as a verbal prayer. The repetition of the little prayers put her into the meditative state she was familiar with. She began to feel a warm glow. The rosary beads started to feel silky as she worked them between her fingers.

“Hail Mary, full of grace
The Lord is with thee. Blessed art Thou among women And blessed is the fruit of Thy womb Jesus.
Holy Mary, mother of God Pray for us sinners
Now, and at the hour of our death”

Again, and again. Slowly, imperceptibly, the petite little lady’s voice faded to a whisper, and then began to sound like small pouts. Then it was gone completely. Her eyes were fixed on the statue of the Mother of Jesus, but her soul was not behind them.

She found herself in a crowded passageway. People were crowding in from every side. The air was cool, yet the putrid odors of a large city alleyway were hanging all about. All the shoving and excitement seemed to be centered somewhere down the alley from where she stood, and it was moving in her direction.

Two ancient soldiers were shoving people out of the way. They threatened with their swords, raising them above their heads, and waving them about. She could see that the swords were sharp and weighty. She was well aware that even a small blow from them would be serious. The crowd was appreciative of this, also, because they steered clear of the soldiers when the tempers appeared to flare.

These were hard men. They had hard eyes, and they needed a shave. They smelled like sweat. Their uniforms, if they could be called that, were dirty. Their helmets were not shiny and new, but used; very used. They were using a language that she could not understand. As the lead soldier came near her she recoiled, but he put his left hand out, and shoved her backwards anyway, not so much that she was in his way, but he used the action to demonstrate his authority to make sure she moved. Mashing his hand into her nose and eyes, and giving a squeeze as he pushed. His hand was dirty, too. She instinctively took her scarf and put it to her nose.

The crowd became very agitated and she saw other men coming up the alley, surrounded by soldiers. The soldiers around these men were shielding them from the crowd. She could tell that the crowd had mixed feelings, some appeared angry with the men, and others looked sympathetic. Each man had a huge cross-beam on his shoulders. She was stunned by the size of it. They weren’t smooth at all, but rough and splintery. Great grooves run the length of the beams. Large iron rings were fastened to either end. Each of the three men were tied to these beams. As they approached, she could see that the beam had rubbed their backs raw, down to the muscle. How the men stood the pain was beyond her. Just then the lead man tripped and fell. The force of his fall broke the ranks of the soldiers, and he crashed down at her feet, the weight of the beam forcing his face into the stone of the walkway. He left drops of blood on the stones where he fell. She looked down at him as he pulled himself up, resting his weight on one knee. He looked into her eyes. The soldier behind him started to raise his sword. She thought that perhaps he would strike her, but it didn’t matter. Looking into those eyes was the perfect time to die. He was in pain, but his eyes didn’t show it. They’d broken his nose, but she could tell that it had been an exquisite nose. His beard was full, but well kept. She could see it was full of blood, too. His hair hung down stringy, filled with blood and sweat. She could see that it extended a length down his back almost to his waist. They had put a “Crown” on his head, but it was briars. It had cut into the flesh very deep. One cheek was smashed in. It was not the face of an intellectual. It was the face of a working man. Still, this description doesn’t do the face justice. She’d seen this face a thousand times, on road gangs, in homeless shelters, yet it was all of these, and none of them. With one look at the face she was sorry for everything she’d ever done. With the sight of the raised sword still at the edge of her field of vision, she raised the scarf in her hands and wiped the face.
He closed his eyes, and struggled to get up. With a great effort he raised himself to his feet, and began to stumble down the cobblestones with the soldiers all around him. She followed with the crowd. Near the wall he fell again. This time the soldiers had enough delay, and took the beam from his shoulders. The cuts were much worse that she’d thought. The cross beam had rested down into them. As the men pulled it off the torn flesh clung to it. The man winced, but did not cry out.

They grabbed a man from the crowd, and pointed to the beam. Even though she couldn’t understand what was being said, she knew the man was being asked to carry the beam for the prisoner who’d fell. He obviously didn’t want to, but the authority of the soldiers was clear. She could see that any refusal, any hesitation might even put the beam on the man’s shoulders for real!
The cross beam now repositioned, they all went through the outer wall at the perimeter of the city. They stumbled up a little rocky rise and some of the soldiers held the crowd back. The three prisoners were put on the ground. They were stripped down to a loin cloth that each one had, and placed upon their respective beams. Leather bags were produced, and large hammers brought out. The men were stretched on the beams. While some soldiers held them down, another would get a nail from the sack. Two of the men did not cooperate and one soldier struck one of them with the flat of his sword, knocking him unconscious. The nails were pressed into the wrists of each man, and driven all the way through into the beam with a single blow. The man, whose face she’d wiped moaned a little. The other conscious man screamed something at the soldiers, and they slapped him.

When they were all firmly attached they were stood and ropes were run through the rings on the ends of the beams. The soldiers then threw the ropes over the tops of some upright posts that were situated on the little rise. Balancing the ropes so they would not fall to the side, they heaved each man onto a precutslot in his particular upright post which was already firmly planted into the ground. Then a soldier went to each and put a single nail through the overlapping feet.

Then they threw all the possessions of the men on the ground, and began to divide them up. She stood there with the others and looked up at the men on the crosses. This was not glorious, it was horrible! It was perhaps the most sickening sight she’d ever seen in her life! They were all straining against the nails in their feet to lift themselves up so they could breathe, and each effort to do so produced a moan, or a scream. With each beat of the heart the blood oozed from the wrists of the condemned, but she could tell that it was not from the loss of blood that death would come, but from the battle they were fighting for breath.

She could see some women on the far side of the rise, some crying and wringing their hands. One was on her knees. Tears streamed from her bright blue eyes, but she did not cry out. She kept her eyes directly on the man in the center. She breathed when he breathed. She shuddered when he shuddered. A young man was standing behind her with his hands resting on her shoulders. He was staring into the dying man’s face. The man on the cross told him something, but she could not understand what it was. The man put his arms around the woman, and led her away down the rise.

Hours passed. During all this time there was no letup in the struggle to breathe. Every now and then one of the men would be still, perhaps hoping death would intervene and end the agony, and one of the soldiers would go over an poke them with a spear, or sword until they screamed. Finally the man in the center cried out, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani!”

The soldiers looked up. One walked over and got a long stick. He fixed a sponge onto it and dipped it into a clay jar. Walking over to the center cross he thrust the sponge into the man’s mouth!