Ecce Homo

When I was young, maybe 10 years old, I never wanted to say the parts of the “crowd” when we would hear the gospel of the Passion on Palm Sunday or Good Friday....

When I was young, maybe 10 years old, I never wanted to say the parts of the “crowd” when we would hear the gospel of the Passion on Palm Sunday or Good Friday. I refused to say, “Crucify Him, crucify Him” because I felt guilty and ashamed. I was scared that those words led to the intense suffering and death of One perfectly innocent. I wanted to be in denial that it had happened. I was angry at the crowd for being so stupid to stare at the Son of God in the Face and condemn Him to death. I kept my small mouth firmly shut and prayed in my heart for forgiveness for an event that I wasn’t physically present for.

As I grew older, I reminded myself that they were afraid. They were prideful. They were looking at a man that radically challenged their comfortable lives. I grew to understand and relate to the crowd, as we are all human with faults and temptations.

But even now, 12 years later, I am still afraid to say those words; I still experience sadness, guilt and anger. I force myself to be a part of the crowd when we hear this gospel. It’s my pride that wants me to believe, “I would never be tricked into condemning this Man.” But what if I had lived 2,000 years ago, and found myself standing in the middle of this crowd, staring up at Pontius Pilate as he asks, “What would you have me do?”.... Would I join in, exclaiming “Crucify him” with vehemence? Would I recognize Christ's love and humility and wonder who he is that he would die for me?

It is this moment that the painting by Antonio Ciseri, “Ecce Homo,” comes to my mind. It’s an image I’m drawn to meditate on during this Holy Week as we approach the Triduum. This painting captures the moment Pilate presents Jesus to a crowd that is very much afraid. Pilate is impatient and exasperated. Jesus stands to the side, silent and humble. Pilate’s wife turns away in sadness and fear. The servants peer over the edge, anticipating the response.

I love this painting because Ciseri forces me to be a part of this moment. I feel as though I could take one step, touch Jesus' hand and ask, "Who are You?" It is a question that embodies everything we contemplate this week. It’s a question I never want to stop asking as we move from Holy Week to Easter season.

Who is this Man that dies for me?