Just as what we all are in the brink of death

Jesus, while bleeding upon the cross of Calvary, found that the scent of the wood—where both His hands and feet were nailed—reminded Him of the sanctuary of home. He was once defined by the craftsmanship and physical labor as a carpenter's son, familiar with the grain of  timber and the weight of tools. The very instruments used to place Him there were known to Him, for His own household might once possessed the same: iron nails, hammers, wooden beams, and rope that now turned to be part of the machinery of His death.

Though He held the divine knowledge of His suffering and the necessity of His sacrifice to fulfill the prophecies in the scriptures and pay the debt of sin, Jesus remained a human connected to His earthly nature. For, just as what they say we all are at the brink of our death, our senses pull us back to the fragmented memories of what has come into our entire existence. The earthy, musky aroma of the wood, entwined with the metallic scent of blood, became the trigger that put Him to this journey in the depths of His crucifixion.

In our humanity, we find the blue sky serene despite the never-ending struggles of pressure, necessity, and weary relationships. It is a place of tranquility that reminds us of a time passing toward a definite tomorrow: through its warmth and chill, its shifting lightness and creeping darkness.

Just as what we all are, Jesus, with the same view upward at the cross, might have looked directly in the sky and had His fair share of comfort despite having a crown of thorns placed on His head, which inevitably caused Him wounds and bleeding.  

For the time has come for Him to fulfill His purpose. And through His death, time will be enough for His people to look above and watch the sun rise and set freely without death finding them at the peak of their very own nature's manifestation of sins. 

Humans will have their freedom that is like clouds: unfurling gently to a shape they wanted; drifting peacefully to a place they wished to go by; and dissolving quietly as it passed on gracefully. Jesus’ sacrifice meant that He’ll be the wind which will push us into living off the hope of forgiveness when we failed to stand firm on temptations of wickedness. 

Just as what we all are, Jesus, nailed in the cross, might have felt the safeness amidst all, through His mother's presence, at distance. For His mother served as His family that bore and connected Him in this world. She nurtured and watched Him through His first walks, words, laughs, and cries, until His last times where He was stripped off of His own dignity, destroyed by scourging, and all other horrors of torture that was lashed upon Him.

Simultaneously, the sight of His mother likely returned Him to the memory of an absolute, tender love—one bestowed upon Him when He was but a child: curious, imaginative, and brimming with an innocent, boundless energy—just as what we all are; and for whom He remained during his crucifixion: a Son who is the reflection of His Father's agape love to all. For as whatever we all are, we are loved by Him.

Above this, He wouldn’t forget to be reminded of the routines He led with His chosen disciples through His last glimpse of John—an apostle whom He loves, just as everyone who follows Him. In that glance lived the memory of His days spent walking dusty roads and sharing humble meals, of preaching the truths through parables, of healing the sick, of feeding the hungry, of retreating into stillness to pray and worship, and all other goodness the world could not hold on to if all written. 

While at the foot of the cross, just as what we’re capable of: selflessly putting others above ourselves, giving forgiveness to those who wronged us was given by Jesus to the people who condemned Him and to all. There were legions of angels ready to fight for Him the moment He wished upon His Father for the crucifixion to stop, but He didn’t pray salvation for His sake; rather, it was for the people, for they don’t know what they do. Love wouldn't be one of the greatest commandments if it did not reflect the love Jesus had for us. 

For who He was, Jesus gave much love to all in His entire existence as a human. It was just as when we love; it might not have been perfect similar to Jesus’, for we’re flawed, but it is as pure, as it exists without conditions, expectations, or the need for anything in return. It is given freely—not because someone deserves it, not because it benefits us, but simply because we choose to care for another’s well-being as deeply as our own. 

As a soaked sponge into a jar of wine vinegar lifted into Jesus lips, just as what we all are in the brink of death, He was reminded of everything He held dear—through the scent of the wood where He was nailed onto, the upward view of the sky that witnessed His fate, the sight of His mother and disciple standing before Him, and His gaze cast down at the foot of the cross where those He loved, those who mourned, and even those who condemned Him gathered as one—each a fragment of a life fully lived in love and grace, now drawn into a single, sacred moment. Afterall, above being fully God, He was fully human to be like us.

“It is finished.”

Article: Jossa Rafoncel

Illustration: Kaiser Aaron Caya