His name was JC. He had a golden beard from which shone a path
of golden light for his disciples to follow.
And they followed, in ever-increasing numbers, as he travelled the land,
spreading his message. The crowds became
larger and noisier; more and more excited.
The establishment became nervous and fearful. Who was this quiet,
unassuming man? Where had he come from?
What was his appeal?
He was revered and vilified: a
Messiah and a trouble-maker. He cared
about the sick, the poor and those on the fringes of society. He overturned the tables of the money makers
– those motivated by greed and self-interest who would profit whilst others
suffered. He was loved by the many and hated
by the few. For the rulers, the establishment, those who
would wield their power over the people, JC posed a threat. They did everything they could think of to
destroy him except they had overlooked one crucial thing. They might succeed in destroying the man but they
could not destroy his ideas or the will of the people. Friday was the day set to confirm his
destruction. The people called it Good
Friday.
