According to the Gospel of Mark, Jesus was crucified at nine o’clock . . .

According to the Gospel of Mark, Jesus was crucified at nine o’clock in the morning.  He ended up dying about three that afternoon.  And for those who believed in him, and who were so devoted to him, it must have seemed like the longest six hours of their lives, because there is nothing more difficult than to watch someone you love suffer—especially when that suffering is undeserved.  So from the perspective of Jesus’ followers, the crucifixion lasted far too long.

Of course, for the chief priests and scribes—those who had argued with Jesus, and who were so offended by him—they might actually have preferred that it last a little longer.  It’s not that they were particularly interested in watching Jesus suffer.  The chief priests and scribes weren’t sadists.  But all the same, they were trying to send a message to any would-be messiahs, who might be waiting in the wings, that you had better watch your step, or this could be you.  Hence, from their perspective, the longer the crucifixion took, the louder the message.

And then there were the Roman soldiers, for whom I suspect this was pretty much just another day on the job.  It probably didn’t matter to them whether Jesus died quickly or whether he lingered.  They were still going to have to work their eight hour shift.

Six hours is all it took—too quickly for some, too painful for others, and just another Friday afternoon for everyone else.  But in the span of those hours, Jesus spoke on seven different occasions (that is, if you take all of the gospels together).  Both Matthew and Mark have him speaking only once, Luke seems to remember three more times, and John adds three more to that.

But since crucifixion is actually death by suffocation, what you need to realize is that every time Jesus spoke, it was not only excruciatingly painful, it was also energy depleting.  In effect, he was shortening his life by speaking these words.  And so, you have to believe that he felt it was important enough to say them, out loud—otherwise he should have just saved his breath.

His very last words are directed to God.  “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.”  That statement should settle, once and for all, who is responsible for Jesus’ death.  It wasn’t Caiaphas, the utilitarian, who argued, “It is better to have one man die than to have the whole nation destroyed.”  It wasn’t Pilate, who was down to his last strike with the emperor, and who, in order to protect his pension, decided to wash his hands of the entire matter.  It wasn’t the Jewish Sanhedrin, or the fickle crowds, or the Roman soldiers.

When Jesus screams out, with his dying breath, “Into your hands I commend my spirit,” he is signaling to anyone who has ears to hear that this is something he is doing.  No one took Jesus’ life.  He gave it!