Execution of Jesus—Good Friday, 33 A.D.
Execution of R. Robbins & M. Pruett—April 12, 1999

“Oh, all ye who pass by the way, attend and see if there be any sorrow like unto my sorrow.”

Already, Jesus has prayed, “Not my will, but thine be done.” Already, Judas has led the agitated leaders to Gethsemane. Already, Judas has betrayed Jesus with a kiss. Already, Peter has sliced the ear off a servant of the high priest. “Put back the sword…for all those who take the sword will perish by the sword.” Already, Jesus said to Judas, the scribes and Pharisees, the mob, “As a robber you have come out with swords and clubs to seize me. I sat daily with you in the temple teaching and you did not lay hands on me.” What I say now is not political. Rather, it is the Gospel, it is the Gospel of Life. When our Holy Father, John Paul II, came to St. Louis in January, he pleaded the cause of a condemned man to the governor of the state of Missouri. The Governor heard his plea. The sentence of death was commuted to life without parole.

Thursday night, Jesus was put in a holding cell. Early on Friday, rough soldiers, heavily armed, guarded Him. Into the courtyard, they dragged, pushed, shoved Jesus. They whipped Him without mercy. We call it the scourging. They crowned Him with thorns, buffeted Him—stuck a reed into His hands, spat on Him. “Tell us who struck You?” “Oh, all ye who pass by the way, attend and see if there be any sorrow like unto my sorrow!”

More than once every year in our beloved state of Arkansas and in almost every state of the union, we have holding cells. We don’t whip and crown with thorns, but we do mock God’s gift of life. The condemned man is placed in isolation. He must shower. He must put on clean clothes. He is given a choice of food. It is his last supper. Only his attorney and the chaplain of his choice may be present. The guards, heavily armed, stand vigil.

“Oh, all ye who pass by the way, attend and see if there be any sorrow like unto my sorrow!”

On Friday morning, Jesus stood before Pilate, “Tell me, who are you?” Jesus was silent. To those who brought the accused, Jesus, to trial, Pilate said, “I find no cause in this just man.” “Crucify Him, crucify Him!” In exchange for Jesus’ life, I offer you Barrabas—a convicted criminal. “Give us Barrabas.” “Then, what will I do with Jesus?” “Crucify Him, crucify Him.”

This month on April 12, in our beloved state, two condemned men will be in holding cells. The shower, the clean clothes, the last supper—the attorney, the chaplain, the heavily armed guards will be present. In a clean, totally sanitized room, brightly lit, will be a gurney. Strapped to that gurney will be the condemned. Their names are Robert Robbins and Marion Pruett. Official witnesses of the state will be present—the prison warden and other specially selected witnesses. Frequently, some family members of the victims of the heinous crimes are present. Some of these official witnesses seek revenge. Some seek justice. Some want closure to the pain in their lives. It is not likely that any witness wants to stay the hand of the executioner.

The lethal injection will be ready. A needle will be inserted into the arm of the condemned man. The warden will give the signal and the poison will flow into the vessels of the man strapped to the gurney. Those vessels will constrict. His skin will turn purple. He will attempt to raise up his head. His breathing will be fast and shallow. Death will snatch him away from life. Faintly, but in a very real way, I hear over the land, “Crucify him, crucify him.”

For weeks, we men and women of the Gospel, men and women of life, plead for life without parole. We do not challenge the evidence offered by the prosecution. We are not insensitive to the pain and suffering of the surviving family members. We simply do not want to be a part of another attack on the precious gift of life. The Governor of this state, supported by the legislators, simply replies: “Our law demands death for such crimes. I am bound to carry out the law.” These sentiments, this
attitude is echoed by the citizens of our beloved state. Faintly, but really, I can hear the cry: “Crucify him, crucify him.”

On the night of execution, the faithful few, the remnant, but now swelling into large crowds, will stand vigil. They will hold a candle of light and of life in their hands. Intercessory prayers will rise up to the heavens. These men and women will stand before the Governor’s mansion and outside the prison walls. Faintly, but really, I can hear the cry: “Crucify him, crucify him.”

Condemned to death, the cross is thrust upon Jesus. He stumbles, he staggers. He comes face-to-face with His mother. No word is spoken. Simon of Cyrene is compelled to help. Veronica courageously wipes His face. Listen to the nails hammered into His hands and feet. Feel the jolt when the cross is thrust into the ground. Hear the cry of Jesus, a cry of desperation, “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me.” Truly, the just one, the innocent one, surrendered His life for us. Jesus bowed
His head and died.

“Oh, all ye who pass by the way, attend and see if there be any sorrow like unto my sorrow!”

Back now to the condemned Robert Robbins and Marion Pruett. The burden of execution, the burden of death can be lifted from our conscience. We, the people of life, again, do not challenge the gravity of the crime, violence, cruelty, death of the innocent. We, the people of life, again do not pass over the suffering of mother, father, wife, brother, sister.

Another execution, however, will not heal their broken hearts. My brothers and sisters, one violent death of an innocent one—Jesus—is all human history can absorb. We needed it to be saved. God the Father willed it. Today, Good Friday, execution date for Jesus, cries out to us for a change of heart concerning the law of the land. Inspired by the action of our Holy Father, John Paul II, in St. Louis last January, the bishops in every diocese of this country plead with you, our people, to
change our hearts, to change the law of death to the law of Jesus—mercy, love, compassion, forgiveness. United in the efforts to change our hearts, we simply say to our Governor and to our legislators: Choose Life.

“Oh, all ye who pass by the way, attend and see if there be any sorrow like unto my sorrow!”