The human mind is astonishing. First it resists everything new and then it gets used to it, innundated even. And then it wants for nothing to rock that.
The commander understood the mechanics of it.
It often happens to physicians (who face disease and death everyday) and occupational forces (dealing with criminals and insurectionists). They lose touch with the reason they got into the profession and become mindless, unfeeling automatons, just following rules and implementing policies.
It was his reaction, or lack if it, to the scene unfolding before him that triggered the introspection.
The mallet landed again, unaffected by his thoughts, driving the nail through flesh and tissues. He wondered how that must feel.
In that moment, he lost his clinical detachment and put on the toga of humanity once more.
He yanked it off before it took root. The life of a soldier was marked by orders and death. There was no place for feeling the pains of condemned criminals.
Nailing concluded, his men pulled the ropes until the beam was standing straight. The blood of the one hanging from it, painted it crimson under the glare of the unforgiving Judean sun.
He allowed his eyes move to the other criminals. They seemed to be arguing. The one on the right said something to the one in the centre. He got a reply.
He turned away. Of what significance were the final diatribes of dying men? In a short while they'd be begging for quick release.
That was when it happened.
Darkness, so black and thick it could be felt on the skin, covered everywhere in a blanket. Usually, darkness would start and spread. This emerged from nowhere and filled everywhere.
It lasted three hours.
When it lifted , the one in the middle cried out, “Father, I entrust my spirit into Your hands!”
And then he breathed his last.
The commander was dumbstruck. When he found his voice, he said in awe, "Surely this was a righteous man."
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