Over the next few hours, Mari sat at the foot of the cross crying and watching how the strong man became weaker. She wanted to clean his wounds, wash his feet, give him something to drink, cook a nice meal — but she was not allowed.
Mother Mary and her sister arrived. His mother gained permission from the senior soldier to approach the cross. She gently touched Iesous’ feet and looked up at him. Tender, as she used to when she fed him. Iesous smiled at her through the wounds and blood. She smiled back, tears streaming down her cheeks. Mari watched, and realized that although her own relationship with Iesous was unique and deeply special, there was something more profound happening there, between mother and child. She thought, “Mary understands things from a different perspective than I. She sees the big picture, the true Reality. I, I am focused on the ministry.” Those observations gave Mari some peace, some hope to cling to. She knew things would work out well, she trusted, but she could not see it, could not understand the cruelty. “It is too easy to hate the people of this god,” she thought.
Together, the three women waited, watching. “We are waiting for him to die. It feels wrong…,” said Mari after a while, into the silence. Mother Mari held her hand and tried to sound reassuring, “He is still losing blood, it won’t be long.”
The next moment Mari looked up was when Iesous coughed again. And she saw, clearly saw, how the deities of Sukhavati were all around the Lord. She saw Gautama Buddha, Lord Krishna, Lao Tzi, and others she did not recognize. Clear as day, there they were. And all that came to mind was, “Heaven came here to judge these people and their god for what they did to one of their own.”
Mari got up and was about to prostrate to the gods of heaven to beg them for help but realized neither the soldiers nor Mary and her sister saw it. She looked up at Iesous and saw that he knew they were there all along. Mari greeted each with her namaste, to each and all. Jesus could do a small smile, happy that she could see them. She could only trust they would do what was right.
Hours, that felt like days later, when evening finally rolled in, Iesous knew the time was right. He lifted his head, opened his eyes and readied himself to speak. “Mother…,” he said, first in a whisper, then tried again, “Mother, this is your daughter. Mari, your mother.” His mother nodded and put her arm around Mari.
Iesous looked at Mari, her suffering touched him deeply. He prayed to Sukhavati. Then, raising his torso for breath, he said three lines of a poem in Sanskrit.
Later, Mari wrote it down to show Mother Mary on these notes:
“ehi ila rame śabdaya cittāni” - एहि इल रमे शब्दय चित्तानि - Come, be calm dear, show and speak to the hearts. “ehi elaya ramaya śabdāt cittāni” - एहि एलय रमय शब्दात् चित्तानि - Come, be calm, delight the hearts by teaching the Word. “ehi elaya rame sabhāṃ ca atāni” - एहि एलय रमे सभां च अतानि - Come, be calm dear, I shall always wander amongst the assembly.
One of the Roman soldiers whispered, “I think he prayed in Aramaic to his god El.”
Mother Mary and her sister were puzzled at the strange language. “What did he say?” Mother Mary whispered, leaning over to Mari, “Do you know?”
Mari stuttered, she was flustered, too many things…a peace came over her and a deep insight filled her soul, but…, “I…mother…I don’t know, not yet.”
His mother asked again, more urgently this time, “Mari, what did he say? Sounds the same as before?”
“Not exactly the same, mother. Similar sounds, different arrangement, different meaning…” Mari’s mind rushed. She wrestled her emotions away from the moment. Iesous was a master at Sanskrit. She remembered her lucid mind while studying, her training in the mountains with Iesous, his poetry, his love of word-play with Sanskrit. “It’s a poem! He is saying a poem, mother! My Lord is saying a poem with layers of meaning: We must be calm. We must show theWAY in our behavior, we must teach it in their hearts. We must delight their hearts by teaching the Logos. We must be calm, he will always be with us when we assemble.
The Lord lifted his head again and looked at his mother for a long time. She looked back at him, holding his gaze; his swollen mouth blew a kiss to her. Slowly she lifted her hand and waved. Then he looked at Mari, smiled, and said, “It is done.” His human body died.
The wealthy benefactor who had arranged for Iesous’ bones to not be broken, sent workers to quickly remove the body from the cross after he had died. They rushed to wash him and laid his body to rest in a private burial cave before dark. The Jewish Law got what they wanted, even to the last minute, all was fulfilled. People were scared of persecution from the religious authorities, so they did not stay after dark.