Unnamed
No one knew his name anymore. His mother was the last to speak it, and she was gone, leaving him suspended above a crowd alone, a crowd who would never know his name, but only his actions.
Thief. Criminal. These were his names now. He had no one to stand nearby and weep for him. No one to mourn his loss, or take his broken, lifeless body from the cross and conceal it. He couldn’t bear to look at their faces anymore—this was no faceless crowd. Each sneer stood out on faces misshapen by hatred.
The man hanging beside him had the people below stirred into a frenzy. The crowd jeered and shouted his name, Jesus—”King of the Jews” they called him in sing-song mockery. A man stood with a group of women in a small knot below his feet, one woman came into sharp relief, she was clearly the man’s mother. The thief had never seen eyes filled with equal parts love and anguish before he looked fully into the mother’s face. He imagined she would take the weight of her son’s punishment on her own flesh and bone if it would save him.
Recognized
The man beside the thief had the look of someone who could save him. Something in him felt named when, like a heavy stone rolling away, the King slowly turned his head to look at him. They shared equal agonies, but what crossed in the space between them was something like recognition. The thief sensed that this Jesus knew the name his mother had called him when he was a child, and everything that passed in the years between.
He’d lived from hand to mouth most of his life, stealing from big and small alike, reveling in his ability to slip anywhere unnoticed and take what he wanted. His thievery caught up with him, and now he would die for it. When Jesus looked at him, the words of an ancient Davidic Psalm welled up from a buried memory. “Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love; according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions. Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin!” The words rose like incense inside of him.
Remembered
As his breathing became more labored, and the other criminal joined the crowd in mocking Jesus, the thief summoned more words from the deep. “Remember me when you come into your Kingdom” he said to Jesus. Remember me.
Like the thief, like every person in the crowd, we are named in the presence of Jesus. We are called Beloved like John, Treasured like mother Mary, Forgiven like Peter, Honored like Mary Magdalen. May we be remembered like the thief and forgiven like David. Belonging waits.
Click here to read Day One: John the Beloved.
Click here to read Day Two: Mother Mary.
Click here to read Day Three: Peter the Passionate
Click here to read Day Four: Mary Magdalene
