Tag Archives: The Soldier Who Killed a King

THE SOLDIER WHO KILLED A KING

20 Thursday Sep 2018

Posted by in Books by David Kitz, Good Friday, Lent, The Soldier Who Killed a King

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Soldier book

Christ’s Passion Week…a familiar account? So you think you know this story? Think again. There are more twists in this plot than in the cruelest crowns of thorns. This author takes you on a fast-paced ride through Christ’s Passion Week-an eight-day ride you will never forget. Scheming Herod, the bloody Fox, has more than one trick up his sleeve. The high priest and the governor are at each other’s throats. Four kings, together in the holy city for one week, compete for one
throne. Now here’s a deadly competition.

Written from a soldier’s perspective, you see a familiar story in a whole new light. Here is the horror of the cross, up close and graphic. While remaining true to the scriptural account, the author weaves with startling realism a very human tale of intrigue and subterfuge. There is a more than a little passion here. Did we mention the terrorist connection? So, you think you know how this ends? Ha! Think again! Have you been to the foot of the cross lately? Come, if you dare.

Author bio:  For a number of years now, David Kitz has been telling the soldier’s view of these events in a one-man play entitled, “The Centurion’s Report.”
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For more information on the book visit: https://davidkitz.ca/centurion.php

For more information on the book purchase visit: https://www.davidkitz.ca/bookcart/index.php?route=product/product&path=62&product_id=58

or https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0825444853?pf_rd_p=d1f45e03-8b73-4c9a-9beb-4819111bef9a&pf_rd_r=MDF7KQBS5SZGS214836H

For more information on the dramatization visit: https://davidkitz.ca/centurion.php

 

The Ottawa Christian Writers’ Conference

13 Wednesday Jun 2018

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On April 7th, the Ottawa chapter of the Word Guild hosted the fourth annual Ottawa Christian Writers’ Conference with about 60 writers in attendance. The conference featured two plenary speakers, Faith Today, senior editor, Karen Stiller, and former west coast member of parliament, John Weston. Both speakers stoked our passion for writing while providing a host of practical tips and real life experiences that can prove invaluable.

In addition, conference attendees had a choice of six workshops taught by experts on a broad range of topics from poetry to editing.

Denyse Workshop 04-07-2017

Denyse O’Leary teaching her workshop

There is something almost magical that happens when Christian writers come together. We find ourselves on common ground, with common interests that rest on the redemptive work of Jesus Christ. Though the genres we labour in may differ, our faith underpins our work.

This year’s conference took place on the seventh floor of the Cardus building in downtown Ottawa. The beautiful location, delicious meal, and amenities added significantly to the enjoyment of this event. Thanks goes to Word Guild board member, Peter Stockland for acting as our host at Cardus.

Please take a moment to check out this highlights video. Who knew that being a Canadian Christian writer could be so much fun?

Cathy Goddard 04-07-2018

Cathy Goddard leading worship

You know you are meeting a need when participants are eager for more. A number of events are planned for the coming months, including the 5th annual Ottawa Christian Writer’s Conference on April 6th, 2019.

David Kitz is the author of a number of books, including The Soldier Who Killed a King and Psalms Alive! David is the founder and chair of the Ottawa Christian Writers’ Fellowship and serves on the board of the Word Guild.

On Tour with “The Soldier Who Killed a King”

01 Tuesday May 2018

Posted by in Books by David Kitz, Christ's Passion, Easter Sunday, Good Friday, Palm Sunday

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How do you celebrate a book that was conceived in drama? With a book and drama a tour of course.

My biblical novel about Christ’s Passion began as a four-act, one-man play over twentybiblical-fiction-award-2017_orig years ago. So when Kregel Publishing released The Soldier Who Killed a King, it logically followed that the original drama should be an integral part of promoting this book across the continent.

With Easter approaching I arranged a Canadian prairie tour that featured eight scheduled events in four prairie cities: Moose Jaw, Regina, and Saskatoon in Saskatchewan, and Calgary in Alberta.

Things didn’t get off to a good start.

My flight from Ottawa via Toronto to Regina was uneventful. I arrived on Thursday, March 22nd. My first event was my “Centurion’s Report” drama on Friday evening in Moose Jaw. Moose Jaw is an easy one hour drive from Regina on a four lane divided highway. What could possibly go wrong?

Well, Friday dawned with a howling prairie wind. Soon the wind was accompanied by swirling snow. By mid afternoon blizzard conditions resulted in semi trailer trucks being blown off the highway between Regina and Moose Jaw. Dozens of vehicles were stuck. For safety reasons we decided to cancel the Friday evening event. We make our plans, but sometimes weather overrules.

Book store events did not disappoint.

Saturday dawned clear and cold. At noon I started a four hour book signing event at the Chapters bookstore in Regina. What I like most about these events is the conversations you have with prospective buyers. It’s always fascinating to find the common ground that can lead to a book purchase.

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Signing at Chapters bookstore in Regina

The following week I had two more book signing events at Indigo stores in Saskatoon and Calgary. It’s especially gratifying to meet readers who have already read your book and are there to meet you in person and buy more of your books.

There’s never a dull moment during a dramatization of “The Centurion’s Report.”

On Palm Sunday morning I was at “The Bridge” church in Regina portraying the centurion’s response to Christ’s triumphal entry into Jerusalem. The tension builds as Marcus Longinus  seizes a member of the audience at the close of Act 1, flips a merchant’s table in Act 2, and nails Christ to a wooden cross in Act 3. The resurrection of Jesus in Act 4 results in a personal encounter with our Lord. The action is riveting, and so it should be. This was after all a week of intense, history-changing drama.

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It’s always great when you can fit in a bit of family time into a busy schedule.

Monday and Tuesday were spent visiting with my 95-year-old mom in rural Saskatchewan. Despite the advancing years, she is in good health, active and sound of mind. It was also a real treat to spend time with two of my sisters and my brother, as well as a few nieces. A stunning, frosty sunrise greeted us as we set out on our trip from Regina to Churchbridge, SK.

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Frosty sunrise east of Regina, SK — photo by David Kitz

Wednesday morning March 28th was the start of the second leg of my tour. This meant picking up a rental car at the Regina airport for the three hour drive to Saskatoon. The remainder of the day was spent meeting with the pastor of Courts of Praise Church as we planned for “The Centurion’s Report” presentation on Good Friday.

For the next three nights I had the good fortune of staying with my nephew Ross and his family. There home is a 20  minute drive west of the city. The Indigo bookstore event on Thursday went very well. But the highlight of the Saskatoon portion of the tour was the Good Friday morning service at Courts of Praise.

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Photo credit Jean Levac, Ottawa Citizen

The Good Friday service brought together four churches for a presentation of “The Centurion’s Report.” One of the unique features of this presentation was the incorporation of communion between Act 3 and Act 4. It was a very meaningful addition to the drama surrounding Christ’s crucifixion.

Supper with another nephew rounded out the events of a perfect day—a beautiful Good Friday.

Saturday dawned cold and bright. Yes, very cold -25C with a windchill of -35C, but with a bright sunshining the eight hour drive to Calgary was pleasure. I love the wide open prairies and being able to see twenty miles to the horizon and beyond.

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Big sky country in the Red Deer River Valley, Alberta — photo by David Kitz

In many respects Easter Sunday in Calgary was the highlight of the tour.

Cornerstone Church in Calgary was the biggest audience for “The Centurion’s Report” on this tour It also resulted in the most book sales after the morning service. The same was true of my book signing event at the Indigo store in the afternoon.

But the biggest thrill of the day came when I was introduced to my two stagehands before the Easter morning service. The tallest young man introduced himself as Timothy. I replied, “Wow, that’s my oldest son’s name!” I then turned to the second young man and asked, “And what’s your name?”

He answered, “Joshua.”

I burst out laughing. My second son is named Joshua. My sons, Tim and Josh, have often helped me as stagehands back in Ottawa. I thought the Lord has a great sense of humor. He brought memories of family back on this special resurrection morning. Later that afternoon I sold a copy of The Soldier Who Killed the King to the Burgess family. Burgess is my wife’s maiden name. So in two divine coincidences I was directly reminded of each of my family members on an Easter Sunday 2,000 miles from home.

The drive back to Regina was a visual feast for this prairie boy’s eyes.

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Along a prairie trail, north of Maple Creek, Saskatchewan — photo by David Kitz

I set out for Regina before sunrise on Easter Monday morning. It was still clear and cold, but the nine hour leisurely drive was a treat for the eyes. Cowboy country beckoned, and I couldn’t help but stop for a few photos of the stunning vistas.

It was great to be back in Regina with the Robinson family in whose home I stayed for a large portion of this tour. On Tuesday evening they hosted a “book and drama” party for a few of their friends. Many of these friends had been part of a book study of The Soldier Who Killed a King, which Dr. Robinson led. For them it was a meet-the-author evening, but for me it was a meet the readers event.

Early Wednesday morning my flight left Regina airport. I returned to Ottawa tired, but happy. In total I logged about 5,000 km (3,000 miles) in the air, and 2,200 km (1,350 miles) in ground travel.

What will stay with me are memories of warm smiles and lives touched by the message of the cross.

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The Soldier Who Killed a King—A Review

17 Tuesday Apr 2018

Posted by in book review, Books by David Kitz, Christ's Passion, The Soldier Who Killed a King

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As published in Testimony Magazine, March/April Edition, 2018, reviewed by Dr. Darlene Witte-Townsend 

The Soldier Who Killed a King was voted the top book in the biblical fiction categorybiblical-fiction-award-2017_orig for 2017 by the Christian book service, Interviews and Reviews. Having recently read this book, it’s not difficult to see why. It plays like a high-stakes movie in your mind.

Canadian author, David Kitz, closely examines the events occurring between Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday and his resurrection a few days later. But we see all these events from a unique perspective—through the eyes of a Roman soldier.

This engaging, hard-hitting narrative is a distillation of Kitz’s study and prayer over a 50-year span, when as pastor, educator and Bible dramatist, he steeped himself in the wonder of this story. As a novelist, he reveals profound respect for the historical record through his characterization of Marcus Longinus, a Roman centurion who is unwillingly caught in the power struggles of the day. Furthermore, Kitz stays true to the scriptural account by integrating more than a hundred quotes from the Gospels into the story text.

Three corrupt men, Herod Antipas, “the Fox,” Pontius Pilate, “the Badger,” and Joseph Caiaphas, “the Weasel” have an insatiable lust for money and power. They each attempt to use the political tumult of the time for their own gain. In contrast to the stench of their machinations, Kitz offers a deep sense of Jesus, the donkey-riding King, as the man in whom all of heaven is invested. Jesus emerges in the Roman world offering an entirely new way for humankind to be reborn.

Above all else, this is a story of personal redemption. Marcus, the Roman Centurion is like us, caught between worlds. Who is his king? Why?

The Son of God shows unlimited compassion through healing the sick and feeding the hungry, and his purity catches the attention of the masses in a drama that still shakes the world, one aching, open, humble heart at a time. Do you need to rediscover the power of the cross? The Soldier Who Killed a King will take you there.

Excerpt 31 for Lent from The Soldier Who Killed a King

31 Saturday Mar 2018

Posted by in Books by David Kitz, Christ's Passion, Lent, The Soldier Who Killed a King

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A journey to the cross is a journey to repentance. It’s a journey to deep personal change. Will you take this journey with me?

Date: Seven in the morning, Saturday, April 8, 30 A.D.
Annas meets with Pontius Pilate and asks that Jesus’ tomb be guarded.

Pilate was seated even as I saw him yesterday. He wore a rather haggard look, as though he had slept on the bloodstained rocks of Golgotha. He motioned for the temple delegation to step forward. I waited at the back of the room in a repetition of the governor’s late- day interview with Joseph of Arimathea.
Annas bowed and began. “Sir, we remember that while he was still alive that deceiver said, ‘After three days I will rise again.’”
A strange tingle ran through me as he said this. Pilate rubbed his hands.
Annas continued. “So give the order for the tomb to be made secure until the third day. Otherwise, his disciples may come and steal the body and tell the people that he has been raised from the dead.” Then he concluded by lifting a bony finger and saying, “This last deception will be worse than the first.”
On hearing this, Pilate sighed deeply, then beckoned me forward. There was worry in his eyes. “The centurion here, Marcus Longinus, is fully acquainted with the case of the Galilean prophet. He oversaw his crucifixion.” Then he addressed me directly. “Is that not so?”
I nodded. “Yes, sir. It is as you say.”
With that he raised his hands and motioned both parties together. Then, speaking directly to all of us, he said, “Take a guard. Go, make the tomb as secure as you know how.” Rubbing his guilt- stained hands once more, the Badger got up and skulked off. Free WW-e FACEBOOK-2 (2)Annas was jubilant. With eagerness in his voice, he turned to address me. “How soon can you have your troops at the tomb?”
“We should be there in about an hour.”
“Excellent! These two gentlemen will meet you there. They will ensure that all is in order. Understood?”
“Yes. Understood,” I said. Then I addressed the Pharisees. “Do you know which tomb? Do you know where it is?”
Annas answered for them. “Ah, they know it well.” He gave a contemptuous snort. “The traitor’s tomb, Joseph of Arimathea!”
“I will bring my men and meet you there then.” I gave a slight bow with my head. The chamberlain saw us to the door, and then I was off, back to my home.
I shook my head several times in disbelief as I trudged back. Every time I tried to extricate myself from this Messiah pit, this kingdom of God affair, this abysmal hole, I would find myself sucked in even deeper. And now it had happened again. Was there no escape?
Would I ever be allowed to speak my mind before Pilate?

American readers click this link to purchase The Soldier Who Killed a King.

Canadian readers click this link to purchase The Soldier Who Killed a King directly from the author.

 

Excerpt 30 for Lent from The Soldier Who Killed a King

30 Friday Mar 2018

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A journey to the cross is a journey to repentance. It’s a journey to deep personal change. Will you take this journey with me?

Date: Three o’clock in the afternoon, Friday, April 7, 30A.D.
Jesus’ final moments on the cross.

Here is the obscenity of crucifixion. Naked men are unwillingly mated to two wooden beams. They must thrust the whole of their bodies upward in excruciating pain, ever- increasing pain to catch their next breath—until all strength is drained away. Then death steals in.
This is the shame of the cross. Here is the depravity—a profane sacrilege inflicted upon the human body.
The ghastly rhythm of it was driving me mad.
Then in soul- wrenching anguish, his voice erupted. “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?”
“What does that mean?” I cried out into the darkness.
From beyond the military cordon came the answer. “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
He had broken. The Christ hung broken. The cross had broken him. He too was human. We were all together now, a great crowd caught up in this drama. There was no us and them. We were together. We were caught between heaven and hell in this dark, surreal atmosphere.
It was dreadful. Centur Rep
Someone frantically yelled, “It’s Elijah! He’s calling Elijah.”
Exhaling.
Mounting up.
Ever-heightening pain.
Catching a breath.
Retreating.
From on the Mother’s Hill, a wail went up. It was steady, constant, a wave of woe flowing over the dark scene.
Exhaling.
Mounting up.
Ever-heightening pain.
Catching a breath.
Retreating.
“Will Elijah come?” someone asked. “Will he come?” Many of the hostile were even now on bended knees. The cavalrymen dismounted.
Exhaling.
Mounting up.
Ever-heightening pain.
Catching a breath.
Retreating.
“I thirst!” the king called out.
Claudius leaped to his feet. There was a jar of wine off to one side. The soldiers had been drinking freely from this. He ran over to it and got a sponge. He dropped the sponge into the jar of wine and then skewered it with a long reed. This he held up to dampen the lips of the donkey king.
But some yelled out, “Wait! Let’s see if Elijah will come and save him.”
Exhale.
Mounting up.
Ever-heightening pain.
Catch a breath.
Retreat.
The rarified air crackled with anticipation.
Exhaling.
Mounting up.
Ever-heightening pain.
Catching a breath.
Retreating.
Can the Creator—the God of heaven and earth—save him now?
Exhaling.
Mounting up.
Ever-heightening pain.
Catching a breath.
Retreating.
“It is finished!” he cried.
But there was no anguish in his voice. There was the ring of victory to it, as if he had caught with that last breath a glimpse—a glimpse of his kingdom. A glorious kingdom! He had gained the summit. Now with vigor renewed, he pushed up and forward one last time.Free WWe SHARABLE-1 (2)
Exhaling.
Mounting up.
Ever- heightening pain.
Catching a breath.
Retreating.
“Father . . .
“Into your hands . . .
“I commit . . .
“My Spirit.”
His head dropped. It was over.
As his chin hit his chest, the earth began to rumble. Low thrumming. Building . . . building . . .
The rock Skull began to move beneath my feet. And with it, my soul.
I fell to the ground.
The crosses began to vibrate and rock with the power of the quake. His head bobbed from side to side.
But he was dead.
He was dead!
Everyone was with me on bended knees.
Heaven had rendered its dark judgment. The sun had hidden its face. The very earth had answered back. The verdict was in.
I caught two huge breaths of air, and then for the whole world to hear, I cried out, “He really was the Son of God.”
He was the Son of God.
The sun broke through.
A rooster crowed.

American readers click this link to purchase The Soldier Who Killed a King.

Canadian readers click this link to purchase The Soldier Who Killed a King directly from the author.

Excerpt 28 for Lent from The Soldier Who Killed a King

28 Wednesday Mar 2018

Posted by in Books by David Kitz, Christ's Passion, Good Friday, Lent, The Soldier Who Killed a King

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A journey to the cross is a journey to repentance. It’s a journey to deep personal change. Will you take this journey with me?

Date: Nine thirty in the morning, Friday, April 7 30A.D.
The crucifixion of Jesus.

I tipped the bucket to one side to get enough swill to fill the dipper. I offered it to Jesus. He took a sip, worked the liquid around in his mouth, discerned the true nature of this bitter potion, and then spit it out. It left a dark stain on the dull gray rock near his feet.
“It will dull the pain,” I said emphatically.
He raised his eyes. They locked with mine. I saw in him the same look, the samebiblical-fiction-award-2017_orig determination I saw on the first day I set eyes on him, the day he rode the donkey into this city. I could still see he had a destination in mind. Some mystical purpose he somehow felt compelled to fulfill.
I dropped my gaze. He must be a fool. In his condition, in this situation, he must be a fool. A fool who unnerved me, but a fool nonetheless.
Once more I offered the drink.
With lips pressed tight, he shook his head.
He was a fool. An arrogant fool! A fool who thinks he’s tough—who can handle this—who can take it straight.
We would see who’s tough. I would show him who’s tough!
Let the big show begin.
“Now, boys!” I called out to the crew. Still wearing the purple robe, he was snatched like a young child and slammed down onto the crossbeam.
A cheer went up.
My right hand seized the hammer from Octavio. My left fumbled, then dove into, the nail pouch.
I dropped my knee onto his fingers.
Stabbed the sharpened point of the spike into the base of the palm.
Raised the hammer.
Xchuuuung!
An enormous cheer went up from the crowd.
Blood spurted across my thigh.
Xchuuuung!
Xchuuuung!
Xchuuuung!
One in.
The Christ was silent. Still . . .
Octavio urged me on. “That’s it, Marcus!”
I sprang to my feet, remembering the full rush of battle. Then scrambled to the other arm. From just off the hill, in the throng, a chant began and established itself. “More. More. More. More.”
Knee on fingers.
“More!”
Spike jabbed in.
“More!”
Hammer raised.
“More!”
Xchuuuung!
“More!”
Xchuuuung!
“More!”
Xchuuuung!
Two in. The Christ was silent.
Still . . . He was still beneath the piercing blows.
I rose, panting. Heart pounding. Bloodied hand dripping. Seeing a stainfree area farther up my hairy arm, I wiped it across my sweat- drenched brow.
Octavio saluted me with a smile and a thumbs-up signal.
The crowd roared their approval.
This time it was Octavio who yelled, “Hoist him up.”
The Christ was dragged gasping—desperately gasping—to an upright position before the death mast.
Now they could see him, and the crowd went wild with frenzied excitement. Cheering. Clapping. Hooting. Bloodlust took hold.
The props were applied to the arms of the crossbeam.
A new chant went up. 4485 SHARABLE-2
“Raise him up!”
“Raise him up!”
“Raise him up!”
Octavio signaled, and the men in back lifted the beam on which the Christ was pinned above their heads.
Then we all saw it—saw the obvious. He was still clothed. The purple robe billowed out as it was caught by a sudden cold gust of wind. The sight of it brought all my frenzied demons to the fore.
I stepped before him, looked into his agonized face, and said, “You won’t be needing this . . . king of the Jews.”
Then to the cheers of my men, I spit into his face. I added my spittle to all the rest that had dried and was clinging to his beard.
I untied the royal robe and dropped it in a heap to my right. Finally, with a wicked smile, and to cheers all around, I snatched his breechcloth from off his loins.
I tossed it to Octavio. He held it up. A trophy!
We laughed. We all laughed. I
t was a laugh not our own.
I recognized it. It was Herod’s laugh.
When he had regained some composure, the head jailer started the final count.
“Ready . . . one . . . two . . . three . . . now!”
To chants of “Raise him up, raise him up,” the Christ, the Messiah, the king, was lifted up—up before the world.
His head twisted from side to side in writhing agony. His whip-sliced back slammed against the upright as he was dragged higher.
Then with a flesh-tearing lurch, the notch in the horizontal beam found its match in the vertical. The rope was flung around, then drawn tight, securing the two cross members as one.
The silent Christ hung. He hung naked and bleeding before a jeering world.
Only the last spike remained. Awkwardly, I fumbled for it.
But a creeping unease overshadowed me. I glanced over my shoulder. Claudius stood alone, off to the side. Silent . . . He was ghastly pale and silent, transfixed by the sight before him.
I handed the last nail and the hammer back to Octavio and said, “You do it.” He snorted his surprise, but then set quickly to his task.

American readers click this link to purchase The Soldier Who Killed a King.

Canadian readers click this link to purchase The Soldier Who Killed a King directly from the author.

Excerpt 26 for Lent from The Soldier Who Killed a King

26 Monday Mar 2018

Posted by in Books by David Kitz, Christ's Passion, Good Friday, Lent, Psalms

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A journey to the cross is a journey to repentance. It’s a journey to deep personal change. Will you take this journey with me?

Date: Eight fifteen in the morning, Friday, April 7 30A.D.
Jesus endures the whipping post.

His body quivered with the shock of each blow. But he was silent. Silent and gasping. “Thirteen.
“Fourteen.”
I moved to one side, trying to get a look at his face. His thorn-crowned brow was pressed to the post.
“Fifteen.
“Sixteen.”
He was mouthing a word with each blow. What was it?
“Seventeen.
“Eighteen.”
It came with a gasp. Barely audible.
“Father.
“Father.”
At twenty I called a halt. They had traversed the whole of his body, from shoulders to feet. It was a bloody path. I examined the wounds—more damage than I expected.
His breath came in huge gulps. His eyelids flickered. He remained conscious. At least he remained conscious.
Centur. Sw
I stepped over to Gaius. I cut another three studs from his whip. Then I did the same for Lucius.
“Harder! Harder!” came a shout from above and behind me. It was Cestas—Cestas going wild on the balcony of the guest chamber. He couldn’t wait for the lashing to resume. Like a giddy child, he bounced up and down and hollered for more.
I gave an upward nod to Lucius and then began calling out the stroke count again. “Twenty-one.
“Twenty-two.”
They started over at the shoulders.
“Twenty-three.
“Twenty-four.”
Once more the frenzied cheers went up.
“Twenty-five.
“Twenty-six.”
Each man aimed to outdo the other; each blow was more savage than the last.
“Twenty- seven.
“Twenty-eight.”
He did not cry out, unlike many men I have seen. He was silent beneath the cracking whip, uncommonly silent.
“Twenty-nine.
“Thirty.”
Stroke by flailing stroke they moved once more across his bloodied frame. A quivering, rutted mess. That’s what was left by the time we reached forty. I stood near him—watched his breathing. It was fast but shallow, very shallow by the time we finished.
4485 TWITTERAmerican readers click this link to purchase The Soldier Who Killed a King.

Canadian readers click this link to purchase The Soldier Who Killed a King directly from the author.

Excerpt 24 for Lent from The Soldier Who Killed a King

22 Thursday Mar 2018

Posted by in Books by David Kitz, Christ's Passion, Good Friday, Lent

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A journey to the cross is a journey to repentance. It’s a journey to deep personal change. Will you take this journey with me?

Date: Seven in the morning, Friday, April 7 A.D.
Jesus trial before Pontius Pilate continues.

In due course we all resumed our previous positions. At this point I fully expected Pilate to pronounce the prisoner guilty of high treason. After all, this Messiah had freely confessed to being a king. But I can only guess that Jesus’s words did have an impact on the governor. Upon taking his seat, Pilate announced, “I find no basis for a charge against him.”
A murmur arose from beyond the pikemen.
Caiaphas was livid. He let fly with a torrent of accusations, the last of these being that Jesus had threatened to destroy the temple and then rebuild it in three days.
Showing extraordinary patience, Pilate let the high priest rage. When Caiaphas’s fury was spent, Pilate turned to Jesus and asked, “Don’t you hear the testimony they are bringing against you?”
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But Jesus answered him not a word. His silence itself became a challenge. Pilate had cleared him. Why should he answer to these further allegations?
Though stunned by this silence, Pilate repeated his position. “I find no basis for a charge against him.”
Once again discontent began to rumble through the crowd on the street.
At this point I expected the trial to end and the prisoner to be released. Let the crowds rage. Rome had spoken.
But Annas stepped smartly into the breach. “He stirs up the people all over Judea by his teaching. He started in Galilee and has come all the way here.”
“Is he a Galilean?” Pilate asked. “Under Herod’s jurisdiction?”
“Yes,” the flustered Caiaphas confessed, not knowing where this questioning might lead. “Then to Herod he should go,” was Pilate’s prompt response. “Why drag me into this?” He sneered at the high priest.
The governor seemed weary of the whole affair, and for the third time that morning, he found a way to dodge and retreat.
This trial was over.
The dark-eyed Badger rose from his judgment seat. He walked over to Jesus, the accused, and with a rather cunning smile and a nod, he said, “Off to Herod you will go, man of truth.”

American readers click this link to purchase The Soldier Who Killed a King.

Canadian readers click this link to purchase The Soldier Who Killed a King directly from the author.

Excerpt 22 for Lent from The Soldier Who Killed a King

20 Tuesday Mar 2018

Posted by in Books by David Kitz, Christ's Passion, Good Friday, Lent

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A journey to the cross is a journey to repentance. It’s a journey to deep personal change. Will you take this journey with me?

Date: Six thirty in the morning, Friday, April 7 A.D.
Jesus trial before Pontius Pilate begins.

The governor peered over the heads of the men directly in front of him. He scanned the assemblage on the street, took in the significance of it all, and then cleared his throat. “Where is the man?”
Jonathon turned quickly. On reaching the first step, he beckoned beyond our pikemen to three of his own temple guards, who then advanced with their prisoner—Jesus of Nazareth.
Picture Cent-helmetHe was a mess, almost unrecognizable. His hair was matted. He had been spat upon. The spittle was drying in his beard. There were red welts on his face and neck, a blood- oozing gash above his left eye, a discernable limp to his gait.
It was apparent that during the night they’d had their way with him.
He was escorted to a position directly before me. Intuitively I knew he was my man now, my charge.
A twitch of Pilate’s eyebrow hinted his surprise at the condition of the man.
“Loose him,” he directed with a slight wave of his hand.
Two temple guards hastened to unfasten the leather strap binding Jesus’s arms to his torso. The third man freed the prisoner’s hands. With a second wave of his hand, Pilate dismissed the temple guards, who repositioned themselves on the first step and stood facing the proceedings.
Pilate took a seat on the throne of judgment, which had been brought out for him by two attendants. Raising the scroll in his left hand, he asked, “What charges are you bringing against this man?”
It was clear from this gesture that he was referring to the charges written on the scroll he now clutched in his hand. Undoubtedly he had read these charges himself, and in all likelihood had discussed them
with the assessor standing to his right. But he wanted the high priest to articulate them. “If he were not a criminal, we would not have handed him over to you,” Caiaphas said with a huff.
A rather cheeky response, I thought.
“Take him yourselves and judge him by your own law,” Pilate answered.
Here Annas interjected, “But we have no right to execute anyone.”
A devious response if there ever was one. The temple, in fact, routinely acted as bothbiblical-fiction-award-2017_orig judge and executioner in religious matters and had been granted full authority to do so. Death by stoning was commonplace. I had witnessed Annas himself cast the first stone at some hapless adulteress within the first week of my arrival here ten years ago. No, the temple had the right to execute, and these crafty fellows could surely find grounds to execute this man. They just didn’t want the blood on their hands. They did not want to be blamed for the death of this rabbi. For many he had become the hope of the nation. No, they wanted us to do the job, to act as their executioners. They wanted him judged and executed under Roman law. What Caiaphas said next made this abundantly clear.
“We have found this man”—he aimed a bony finger at Jesus—“subverting our nation. He opposes payment of taxes to Caesar and claims to be Messiah, a king.”
Now here was a capital offense—a capital offense under Roman law.
The Weasel had backed the Badger into a corner, and he was relishing the moment. These charges would need further examination. But Pilate would not proceed in full view of a gloating high priest, urged on by his consorts and a handpicked audience. He retreated.
He abruptly arose from his throne, fixed his eyes on me, and said, “Bring the man.” He motioned with a jerk of his head toward the great doors behind us and then marched off into his residence.
I stepped down to escort Jesus, but he was already in motion. It became clear that the steps were painful for him. I put my hand to his elbow.

American readers click this link to purchase The Soldier Who Killed a King.

Canadian readers click this link to purchase The Soldier Who Killed a King directly from the author.