I would still have entered that very gate and strolled that very street even if I had known that his blood would soon be upon me, for it was that very blood that has redeemed me, that has cleansed and forgiven me, that has given me peace with God. 

Simon, would you still have passed that way? Would you still have passed that way if you had known how you would be mistreated? Would you still have ventured into the city if you had known that you would be forced to carry another man’s burden? Would you still have entered that gate and strolled down that street if you had known that the cross of another man would soon be upon your shoulders, that his blood would soon stain your hands, your face, your clothes?

It was no honor to carry the cross of a condemned criminal, but the kind of insult a conquering army can demand of a people that has bowed before their sword. And so, when that battered man no longer had strength to carry his heavy beam, the soldiers compelled you to do it on his behalf. I wonder if they chose you at random, or if they chose you because you looked compliant and complacent. I wonder if they knew from your appearance that you were from out of town, from your dress or complexion or demeanor that you were from faraway Cyrene. I wonder if they were choosing an easy mark, if they were picking on a foreigner.

That beam must have been heavy. It must have been difficult to hoist it to your shoulder, slick as it was with the blood of the criminal whose appearance was so disfigured that he did not even look like a man. It must have been excruciating to have to follow in the faltering footsteps of one who had been so severely beaten that he no longer even resembled a human being. It must have been humiliating to join the procession of barking soldiers, mocking priests, gawking passersby. It must have been exhausting to carry that crossbeam up that long way of sorrow, to carry it all the way to that terrible place of execution. Did your cheeks burn with shame at the embarrassment of it, your heart beat faster at the unfairness of it, your eyes fill with tears at the humiliation of it?

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