A Somatic Meditation on the Judgment Before Caiaphas: A Tender Invitation to Hold the Tension of Spiritual Trauma

By Ashley E. Schumacher, MS, LAPC

[Music: Salt of Sound - Lamb of God or Kyrie Eleison]

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Find a space where your body feels supported—whether you're sitting, lying down, or resting in stillness.

Let your feet gently touch the ground if they are not already.

Feel the weight of your body where it makes contact with the earth or the chair, and allow yourself to arrive.

Breathe in softly, slowly.

Exhale gently, and as you do, notice the spaces in your body that are holding tension.

You don’t need to force anything to relax. Just notice.

You are allowed to take your time.

Let this breath be an invitation—not a demand.

With each inhale, sense your aliveness.

With each exhale, let your nervous system soften just a little.

You are not alone here.

Now, in your own time, imagine the scene unfolding in the courtyard of Caiaphas.

The room is heavy with shadows, the atmosphere thick with accusation.

There is no place for you to hide here, and the voices of the accusers ring in the air, sharp and unyielding.

Pause here.

Notice how your body responds to the sounds, to the weight of the moment.

Does your breath quicken? 

Do you feel your chest tighten, your stomach curl in response to the harsh voices?

 There may be a feeling of dread or unease creeping up your spine.

Titrate this tension.

Let yourself feel the sting of the accusations.

It’s not just what’s happening to Jesus—it’s also what may have been done to you.

The wounds of spiritual betrayal, the weight of judgment, the fear of rejection—they are real, and they belong here.

Can you feel where your body might want to retreat? Maybe a tightness in your throat or a clenching in your hands?

Notice this carefully. Let it be present, but don’t rush to move through it.

Pendulate now, gently.

Take a deep breath and bring your awareness back to the foundation beneath you—whether the earth, the chair, or the floor.

Feel the support that is there, holding you as you witness this pain.

Inhale...

Exhale...

Now, feel the contrast. In the distance, there is a presence.

Joseph of Arimathea stands quietly in the shadows, watching.

He sees the injustice unfolding, and though his presence is subdued, it is a quiet act of courage.

Titrate this—can you feel the subtle relief of knowing someone, even in the background, sees the truth?

Maybe your body softens just a little, feeling that glimmer of hope even in the midst of injustice.

Pendulate now to the love that is still present, despite the accusations.

Inhale deeply, letting the truth of that quiet support fill you—someone sees the injustice, even if it feels invisible to others.

You are not forgotten, even when it feels like you’re standing alone in the face of judgment.

Pause here.

Notice the physical responses in your body—are you feeling tension in your chest, your shoulders, your jaw?

Perhaps your breath is shallow, or there’s a heaviness in your heart.

Titrate the pain of rejection.

Does it feel like betrayal? The sense that you are being unjustly accused or abandoned?

Let yourself stay with the ache, the sting. 

This is the wound of spiritual trauma—the deep injustice that wounds the heart of the soul.

Pendulate now.

Shift your awareness back to Jesus, standing silent before the accusers.

His silence is not weakness—it is strength in the face of unfathomable wrong.

His love does not waver, even as the condemnation surrounds Him.

Inhale deeply, and let the strength of His love penetrate into the deepest places of your being.

Exhale slowly, releasing any fear that arises within you, 

knowing that He holds the tension of this moment, of this pain, with you.

Can you sense His presence here?

Even in the face of rejection, He is there, standing firm in truth. 

His silence speaks of a love so profound that it does not seek to defend itself but endures.

In this moment, He is with you, holding you in this pain, acknowledging the deep wounds of spiritual trauma you may carry.

Titrate the sense of helplessness.

You may feel the desire to fight back, to scream out against the injustice.

But notice—notice that Jesus does not do that. He holds the tension, offering Himself as the answer to the very accusation.

Pendulate back to His love, His silent endurance.

He is not abandoning you in your pain.

Let that truth wash over you. 

With each breath, feel His quiet presence, and allow it to soften the edges of your fear and grief.

Now, allow yourself to witness the injustice more deeply.

Feel the weight of the moment—the fear of being misunderstood, of being abandoned by God, of being left to suffer alone.

Titrate the pain of that fear—do you feel it in your chest, your throat, your belly?

Maybe it feels like suffocation, a pressure that is hard to bear.

This is the wound of spiritual trauma—when we are left alone in the midst of our deepest hurts.

Pendulate again.

Bring your awareness back to the steady, loving gaze of Jesus. Even though He stands alone,

He is not forgotten. His love does not abandon.

With each exhale, allow His love to be your anchor.

Inhale... Exhale...

Feel the deep tension in your body between the fear of abandonment and the presence of

Christ who will never leave you.

The accusation is real, but so is His love.

The rejection is felt, but so is the love that holds all things together.

Now, as the trial continues, Jesus remains steadfast. His silence is His answer.

Titrate the grief you may feel here. 

The grief of being misunderstood, of the profound injustice of spiritual trauma.

Let yourself hold that grief.

It is real, it is heavy, and it belongs to this moment.

Pendulate one last time.

Feel the deep connection to the One who endured this trial for you, for all of us.

He is still with you. Even in the worst of injustice, even in the silence, He remains.

Inhale deeply, and let your body soften, just a little.

You are not abandoned.

Even in this deep injustice, you are held in His love.

When you are ready, gently bring your awareness back to the space you are in.

Feel the surface beneath you, the breath still rising and falling in your body.

You have journeyed with Jesus in this moment of judgment. His love has never wavered, and

neither has His presence.

You are seen. You are loved. You are never alone.

Let that be enough for now.