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The Crown Of Hypocrisy
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The Crown Of Hypocrisy
At my church, me and my classmates were given an asignment to pretend to be a newpaper columnist in the time of Christ. We had to come up with an editorial on the story of Easter. I came up with this, which is one of the strong points of my Catholic faith, I hope you all enjoy it.
Born and raised in Indianapolis, Indiana. A devout Catholic and film enthusiest. My interests range from Tarantino to Harry Potter to Billy Joel to David Lean.
|AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (1)
Running Out Of Air (Songs) A song based on my upcoming movie. It centers around a woman caught by herself while trying to fight a cause. [584 words]
The Crown Of Hypocrisy
The Crown of
By Patrick Collins-
It has been three days since the Lord Jesus ascended into Heaven, and still the confusion has not subsided. Many things have taken place since then, more crucifixions, more scourging, more beheadings. It seems as though many who wept at the sight of his death have continued to show hate towards their neighbors, stone sinners, and hate their enemies. I started to cry at the sight of such hypocrisy, and utter abuse of Jesus’ message. Jesus told us all to love one another, to forgive one another, to care for those in need, and I had not seen anyone do such a thing. I just couldn’t understand why anyone who witnessed such suffering, and heard such a profound message, could ignore it, and say they believed in it at the same time. I decided to consult with a rabbi. I went from temple, to temple. Very few of the rabbis believed Jesus was the Messiah because many had told them otherwise. The more I heard this, the angrier I became. I searched all over the land for someone to consult. Most people either were afraid of persecution, or they just didn’t care. Town to town, street to street, I continued my search for counsel. I went about asking people: “Did you hear about our Savior?” and, “Do you believe He was the Christ?” Most people I asked just turned away after I said this. Then a veiled stranger approached me.
I said to him, “Did you hear about Jesus of Nazareth?”
The man chuckled. “You mean that crazy magician who was crucified nearly a week ago?”
I shed a tear of anger. “He was not a crazy magician! He was the Messiah! Our Savior!” I said.
“Prove it!” Said the stranger.
I immediately said: “His body disappeared from His tomb! He is risen to the highest heaven! Sitteth at the right hand of God!”
The cruel man laughed at me, “He did not rise! His body was stolen from the tomb, you fool!” he said.
I grabbed the front of his cloak. “Prove that it was stolen then!” I said. “After everything He did for you, and you call Him crazy!”
The man laughed again. “You are a fool!” He said. “I don’t believe in stupid stories like that!”
My anger could no longer be contained. I struck the man with all of my might. He hit the ground and did not move. I sat there in shock, but in satisfied shock. “The man deserved what he received! He insulted our Lord!” I thought to myself. Then a thought dawned on me after a few minutes, “He hasn’t moved for ages! What if I killed him? Did I hit him that hard?” I had to make sure. I bent down and took his hand out of his sleeve to check his pulse, and fell back in horror. The hand had a large hole in it. I took the other hand out, and again gasped. It was pierced as well. I glanced at his sandal-less feet, and to my complete shock, they too were pierced. I stumbled backward. The man, still veiled, rose from the ground.
“Who are you?” I yelled.
“Whom do you seek?” Said the man.
“I seek counsel.” I said.
“I did not ask what you sought, I asked whom you sought.” Said the man.
“I seek a rabbi.” I said.
“You have traveled a for nearly a day across these lands to find a rabbi? I believe there are many in Jerusalem to choose from, are there not?” The man said.
“Yes there are, but not any to my satisfaction.” I said.
The man nodded from beneath his veiled face.
“I see...” He said. “What qualities do the rabbis of Jerusalem lack?”
“They deny that the man who was crucified was the Messiah.” I said.
“But you believe he was?” Asked the veiled stranger.
“Yes!” I said. “I witnessed His death myself, and now He has risen! Nearly all of the citizens of Jerusalem that say they believe in Him are not following His teachings! They continue to attack their neighbors and hate their enemies!”
“And you have not?” The man said.
I was about to respond, but then I remembered what I had just done.
“You see?” Said the man. “You complain about hypocrites, but you are one yourself.”
I then remembered the wound on the veiled man’s hands and feet. I threw myself on the ground and wept.
“Remember Son of Jerusalem,” Said the man. “Every time you strike or hurt one of your neighbors, you strike your Lord, every time you strike or hurt yourself, you put another nail into your Lord’s limbs, and whenever you sin at all, you place another thorn into you Lord’s head.”
There was a pause.
“Do as I have told,” Said the man. “As I have loved you, love one another, even your enemies. Pray for those who sin, for it is not for you to decide which sins are the greater sins.”
I kept my head down as I wept, and when I raised it, the figure was gone. All that was left was a pile of clothes, with a veil on top. I approached the pile, still crying. I tried to pick it up, but felt a sharp pain run through hand, causing me to flinch. I wiped the blood off my finger, and searched inside the clothes for the object that cut me. Then I saw the most haunting thing my eyes will likely ever see: a crown of thorns, dripping with blood.
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"Okay, I know there are bad typos in the intro to this, but I got excited, I tried to fix them but the password service dosen't recognize my new e-mail adress. SOplease ignore them." -- Collins, IN, IN, US.
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