It was on the Friday
that they ended it all.

Of course,
they didn’t do it one by one.
They weren’t brave enough.
All the stones at the one time
or no stones thrown at all.

They did it in crowds…
in crowds where you can feel safe,
and lose yourself,
and shout things
you would never shout on your own,
and do things
you would never do
if you felt the camera was watching you.

It was a crowd in the church that did it,
and a crowd in the civil service that did it,
and a crowd in the street that did it,
and a crowd on the hill that did it.

And he said nothing.

He took the insults,
the bruises,
the spit on the face,
the whips on the back,
the curses in the ears.
He took the sight of his friends
turning away,
running away.

And he said nothing.

He let them do their worst
until their worst was done,
as on Friday they ended it all…
and would have finished themselves
had he not cried,
“Father, forgive them…”

And began the revolution.

For Holy Week, I’m sharing a series of poems that come from Stages on the Way, a book of worship resources for the Easter season prepared by the Iona Community, a Christian ecumenical community headquartered in Scotland and devoted to peace and social justice.