He is condemned to death.
Not a specific portrait of the stations, but they in general find me uneasy and here's why-
The subjectivity and non-accountibility of human emotion inspire me to disregard sentiment as non-essential. In fact, I search for believable excuses to skirt around accepting it as a valuable offering from anyone. Emotion comes with no guarantee of balance, no requisite intention to better its listener, and it rarely cleans up after itself.
I like to think about Jesus Christ. I like to think he is tidy. I imagine he feels as I do that most feelings muddy drinking waters. As long as I don't look Jesus in the eye, or see his posture, or absorb his mannerisms, I can maintain my half-human concept of him.
But these portraits don't allow me to make the rules around good humanity. If I refrain from entering into the goop of moods, I'm the one left in the cold. I don't get to have Jesus, or maybe I'm the numb part of the body.
Tonight I identify most with Pilate. The look on his face says what I want to say, "You're all a fine mess. I won't leave it be on my skin."
- Leah Samuelson