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| Drawing by Anon Artist |
Precious SAVIOR!
No death is so thorough. No shame is so complete.
First, there was the scourging.
The scourging post was two feet high. An iron ring, placed close
to the top, projected from both sides.
Clothing was ripped away...
from a prisoner so that he stood naked.
Roman lictors were
professionals. They confined their labours to the fine,
brutal art of scourging, and they could beat a victim until
only the barest
spark of life remained in the prisoner.
Wrists were firmly shackled to the iron rings. Then the victim was
stretched, face down, with his feet pointing away from the post.
The Roman scourge was a flagra, a short-handled whip consisting of
several thin iron chains which ended in small weights.
Scourging was called the "little death". It preceded the
"big death": Crucifixion.
Even the tension of awaiting the first blow is cruel. The body is
rigid. The muscles knot in tormenting cramps. Colour drains from the cheeks.
Lips are drawn tight against the teeth.
As the whip descends, the chains fan out across the back, and each
link cuts through the skin and deep into the flesh. The weights crash with
bruising force into the ribs and curl tortuously around the chest.
When a man is scourged...
there is pain beyond the memory of pain.
Sweat bursts from the brow and stings the eyes.
At each stroke of the flagra,
a victim's body twitches
like a beheaded chicken.
The second stroke
patterns the
back and half of the chest
with a V-shaped network of small cuts.
Only the Son+ of God
could hold back the high-pitched wail
of unbearable agony.
The very juice of life is torn away with every lash. There is only
the blinding, burning pain as cruel whips whistle again and again through the
air and across the back and shoulders. The flagra can flay a man alive.
Under Hebrew law, the strokes were limited to 39.
Roman punishment
was not so limited.
There was only one rule for the lictor who scourged a man
about to be crucified: he must not die. A spark of life must be sustained for
the agony on the cross.
Men have bitten their tongues in two under such beatings.
Only blessed unconsciousness could bring relief.
The limp body of a victim...
was cut away from the post. His wounds
were washed but
not otherwise medicated. The next step was the parade to
the execution
ground.
Roman politicians always liked to make examples of condemned men.
The long, slow parade along public streets was designed to serve as a warning
to others that Rome dealt quickly and mercilessly.
A centurion usually served as the executioner or carnifex
servorum.
While four soldiers held the prisoner,
he placed the sharp
five-inch iron spike in the center of the palm of the hand. A skillful,
experienced blow would send it through to the wood. Four to five more strokes
would hammer the spike deep into the rough plank, and a final blow turned it up
so that the hand could not slip free.
A small projection, resembling a rhinoceros horn and known as the
"sedile" is fitted solidly through the crotch. This was fitted in
order to take most of the weight off the condemned man's hands. Then a nail was
driven through each foot.
It was a death reserved for slaves, thieves and traitors.
The wounds in the hands send fire down through the arms.
Fainting only relieves temporarily.
It is darkness and pain; then pain and darkness.
The pain in the back, arms, hands, feet and crotch is a dull,
throbbing, horrible, endless pain. The pain builds up. It multiplies.
It is
cumulative.
There is not one moment of respite.
The cross is planted so that the greatest amount of sunlight will
pierce the prisoner's eyes.
Below, the curious crowd wait, fascinated by the torture. The
macabre scene is played out slowly. Dying should be a private thing, not a
public spectacle. There is something obscene about having a mob of people standing
around, waiting for you to die.
Then the thirst begins.
The lips are dry. The mouth is parched. The blood is hot. The skin
is fevered. The greatest of all needs at this moment is a drop of cool water.
At the foot of the cross the death-squad drinks in the presence of
the dying man, to add to his mental torment. The sun shines directly into the
eyes of the crucified. Even when the eyelids are closed a red glare penetrates.
The tongue thickens. What was once saliva is now like unloomed wool. Swelling
begins in the hands and the feet. The sedile digs deeply into the genitals. It
is impossible to turn, or to change one's position. Muscles begin to twitch.
The real horror is only beginning.
What has happened up until now is child's play.
One by one the muscles of the back gather in tight, knotty cramps.
There is no escaping them, no pulling out of them, no gentle massaging hands to
ease them away. They move across the shoulders and the thorax. They move down
into the abdomen.
After two hours on a cross, every muscle in the body is locked in
solid knots and the agony is beyond endurance. Men shriek themselves into
insanity.
The pain and symptoms are identical to tetanus (lockjaw or the
state of a muscle when undergoing continued contraction).
Man, with all his genius, has never devised a more cruel or more
agonising death than that of tetanus - the slow, steady contraction of every
muscle.
Death by crucifixion makes the agony last as
long as possible.
Each hour is an eternity.
At times the cramps make the neck rigid and the head is held flush
against the vertical beam. A man longs for death. It is his only desire.
There are flies, insects, and the yelps of dogs with the smell of
blood in their nostrils. Birds of prey, scavengers of the skies, circle lower
and lower.
Prayers seem to mock a man, but you either pray or curse.
As the hours pass, the tiny blood vessels which feed the nerves
will be squeezed flat, and with the lack of blood circulation comes a numbing
paralysis.
A new agony develops ... for those who linger
on the cross.
It is the
agony of the mucous membrane.
During crucifixion, the mucous membrane
- that thin, slippery tissue
which lines and lubricates much of the human body -
dries to the consistency of fine gravel
and scrapes the tender tissues of the anus
(the posterior opening of the alimentary canal).
The dried membranes
tear at the tortured throat.
They lie like stones in the sinuses.
Layers of tissue are ripped from the eyes
every time
they are moved or blinked.
On the cross there is no end of suffering. It is only the manner
of suffering that changes, and the degree of pain that changes.
As the hours passed, soldiers were inclined to hasten death. They
began breaking bones. Standing on a ladder, a practised legionnaire would swing
a mallet in a short arc and shatter the right femur (the thigh-bone) instantly.
A second, sharp blow would shatter the left thigh. These were new pains.
Could there ever be more intense suffering this side of hell?
Most condemned men died naked.
JESUS WAS CRUCIFIED. HE+ died the most brutal death ever devised by man.
HE+ took my place. It was my sin that sent Him+ there.
JESUS died the most thorough death ever devised.
It was designed to allow the slow death-erosion of cell, muscle, emotion, bone,
tissue, mind, spirit, blood and heart-beat.
CHRIST was crucified, states the Scripture. HE+ did it all for you and me...
Thus the victory
of the
Resurrection
is the most complete victory
ever recorded.
Up from the grave
HE+ arose,
With a mighty triumph
o'er His+ foes;
HE+ arose a VICTOR+
from the dark domain,
And HE+ lives forever
with His+ saints to reign.
HE+ arose!
HE+ arose!
Hallelujah!
CHRIST arose!
No further sacrifice for my sins is needed.
JESUS paid it ALL.
1 CORINTHIANS 1:17-24
by C. M. Ward (Sydney)
www.cai.org
