CHAPTER XI.
Mary in the House of Caiphas.
The Blessed Virgin was ever united to her Divine Son by interior spiritual
communications; she was, therefore, fully aware of all that happened to him—she suffered
with him, and joined in his continual prayer for his murderers. But her maternal feelings
prompted her to supplicate Almighty God most ardently not to suffer the crime to be
completed, and to save her Son from such dreadful torments. She eagerly desired to return
to him; and when John, who had left the tribunal at the moment the frightful cry, ‘He is
guilty of death,’ was raised, came to the house of Lazarus to see after her, and to relate the
particulars of the dreadful scene he had just witnessed, she, as also Magdalen and some of
the other holy women, begged to be taken to the place where Jesus was suffering. John, who
had only left our Saviour in order to console her whom he loved best next to his Divine
Master, instantly acceded to their request, and conducted them through the streets, which
were lighted up by the moon alone, and crowded with persons hastening to their home. The
holy women were closely veiled; but the sobs which they could not restrain made many who
passed by observe them, and their feelings were harrowed by the abusive epithets they
overheard bestowed upon Jesus by those who were conversing on the subject of his arrest.
The Blessed Virgin, who ever beheld in spirit the opprobrious treatment which her dear Son
was receiving, continued ‘to lay up all these things in her heart;’ like him she suffered in
silence; but more than once she became totally unconscious. Some disciples of Jesus, who
were returning from the hall of Caiphas, saw her fainting in the arms of the holy women,
and, touched with pity, stopped to look at her compassionately, and saluted her in these
words: ‘Hail! Unhappy Mother—hail, Mother of the Most Holy One of Israel, the most
afflicted of all mothers!’ Mary raised her head, thanked them gratefully, and continued her
sad journey.
When in the vicinity of Caiphas’s house, their grief was renewed by the sight of a group
of men who were busily occupied under a tent, making the cross ready for our Lord’s
crucifixion. The enemies of Jesus had given orders that the cross should be prepared directly
after his arrest, that they might without delay execute the sentence which they hoped to
persuade Pilate to pass on him. The Romans had already prepared the crosses of the two
thieves, and the workmen who were making that of Jesus were much annoyed at being
obliged to labour at it during the night; they did not attempt to conceal their anger at this,
and uttered the most frightful oaths and curses, which pierced the heart of the tender
Mother of Jesus through and through; but she prayed for these blind creatures who thus
unknowingly blasphemed the Saviour who was about to die for their salvation, and
prepared the cross for his cruel execution.
Mary, John, and the holy women traversed the outer court attached to Caiphas’s house.
They stopped under the archway of a door which opened into the inner court. Mary’s heart
was with her Divine Son, and she desired most ardently to see this door opened, that she
might again have a chance of beholding him, for she knew that it alone separated her from
the prison where he was confined. The door was at length opened, and Peter rushed out, his
face covered with his mantle, wringing his hands, and weeping bitterly. By the light of the
torches he soon recognised John and the Blessed Virgin, but the sight of them only renewed
those dreadful feelings of remorse which the look of Jesus had awakened in his breast. Mary
approached him instantly, and said, ‘Simon, tell me, I entreat you, what is become of Jesus,
my Son?’ These words pierced his very heart; he could not even look at her, but turned
away, and again wrung his hands. Mary drew close to him, and said in a voice trembling
with emotion: ‘Simon, son of John, why dost thou not answer me?’—Mother!’ exclaimed
Peter, in a dejected tone, ‘O, Mother, speak not to me—thy Son is suffering more than
words can express: speak not to me! They have condemned him to death, and I have denied
him three times.’ John came up to ask a few more questions, but Peter ran out of the court
as if beside himself, and did not stop for a single moment until he reached the cave at
Mount Olivet—that cave on the stones of which the impression of the hands of our Saviour
had been miraculously left. I believe it is the cave in which Adam took refuge to weep after
his fall.
The Blessed Virgin was inexpressibly grieved at hearing of the fresh pang inflicted on the
loving heart of her Divine Son, the pang of hearing himself denied by that disciple who had
first acknowledged him as the Son of the Living God; she was unable to support herself, and
fell down on the door-stone, upon which the impression of her feet and hands remains to
the present day. I have seen the stones, which are preserved somewhere, but I cannot at this
moment remember where. The door was not again shut, for the crowd was dispersing, and
when the Blessed Virgin came to herself, she begged to be taken to some place as near as
possible to her Divine Son. John, therefore, led her and the holy women to the front of the
prison where Jesus was confined. Mary was with Jesus in spirit, and Jesus was with her; but
this loving Mother wished to hear with her own ear the voice of her Divine Son. She
listened and heard not only his moans, but also the abusive language of those around him. It
was impossible for the holy women to remain in the court any longer without attracting
attention. The grief of Magdalen was so violent that she was unable to conceal it; and
although the Blessed Virgin, by a special grace from Almighty God, maintained a calm and
dignified exterior in the midst of her sufferings, yet even she was recognised, and overheard
harsh words, such as these: ‘Is not that the Mother of the Galilean? Her Son will most certainly
be executed, but not before the festival, unless, indeed, he is the greatest of criminals.’
The Blessed Virgin left the court, and went up to the fireplace in the vestibule, where a
certain number of persons were still standing. When she reached the spot where Jesus had
said that he was the Son of God, and the wicked Jews cried out, ‘He is guilty of death,’ she
again fainted, and John and the holy women carried her away, in appearance more like a
corpse than a living person. The bystanders said not a word; they seemed struck with
astonishment, and silence, such as might have been produced in hell by the passage of a
celestial being, reigned in that vestibule.
The holy women again passed the place where the cross was being prepared; the
workmen appeared to find as much difficulty in completing it as the judges had found in
pronouncing sentence, and were obliged to fetch fresh wood every moment, for some bits
would not fit, and others split; this continued until the different species of wood were placed
in the cross according to the intentions of Divine Providence. I saw angels who obliged
these men to recommence their work, and who would not let them rest, until all was
accomplished in a proper manner; but my remembrance of this vision is indistinct.
CHAPTER XII.
Jesus confined in the subterranean Prison.
The Jews, having quite exhausted their barbarity, shut Jesus up in a little vaulted prison,
the remains of which subsist to this day. Two of the archers alone remained with him, and
they were soon replaced by two others. He was still clothed in the old dirty mantle, and
covered with the spittle and other filth which they had thrown over him; for they had not
allowed him to put on his own clothes again, but kept his hands tightly bound together.
When our Lord entered this prison, he prayed most fervently that his Heavenly Father
would accept all that he had already suffered, and all that he was about to suffer, as an
expiatory sacrifice, not only for his executioners, but likewise for all who in future ages
might have to suffer torments such as he was about to endure, and be tempted to impatience
or anger.
The enemies of our Lord did not allow him a moment’s respite, even in this dreary
prison, but tied him to a pillar which stood in the centre, and would not allow him to lean
upon it, although he was so exhausted from ill treatment, the weight of his chains, and his
numerous falls, that he could scarcely support himself on his swollen and torn feet. Never
for a moment did they cease insulting him; and when the first set were tired out, others
replaced them.
It is quite impossible to describe all that the Holy of Holies suffered from these heartless
beings; for the sight affected me so excessively that I became really ill, and I felt as if I could
not survive it. We ought, indeed, to be ashamed of that weakness and susceptibility which
renders us unable to listen composedly to the descriptions, or speak without repugnance, of
those sufferings which our Lord endured so calmly and patiently for our salvation. The
horror we feel is as great as that of a murderer who is forced to place his hands upon the
wound he himself has inflicted on his victim. Jesus endured all without opening his mouth;
and it was man, sinful man, who perpetrated all these outrages against one who was at once
their Brother, their Redeemer, and their God. I, too, am a great sinner, and my sins cause
these sufferings. At the day of judgment, when the most hidden things will be manifested,
we shall see the share we have had in the torments endured by the Son of God; we shall see
how far we have caused them by the sins we so frequently commit, and which are, in fact, a
species of consent which we give to, and a participation in, the tortures which were inflicted
on Jesus by his cruel enemies. If, alas! we reflected seriously on this, we should repeat with
much greater fervour the words which we find so often in prayer books: ‘Lord, grant that I
may die, rather than ever wilfully offend thee again by sin.’
Jesus continued to pray for his enemies, and they being at last tired out left him in peace
for a short time, when he leaned against the pillar to rest, and a bright light shone around
him. The day was beginning to dawn,—the day of his Passion, of our Redemption,—and a
faint ray penetrating the narrow vent-hole of the prison, fell upon the holy and immaculate
Lamb, who had taken upon himself the sins of the world. Jesus turned towards the ray of
light, raised his fettered hands, and, in the most touching manner, returned thanks to his
Heavenly Father for the dawn of that day, which had been so long desired by the prophets,
and for which he himself had so ardently sighed from the moment of his birth on earth, and
concerning which he had said to his disciples, ‘I have a baptism wherewith I am to be baptised,
and how am I straitened until it be accomplished!’ I prayed with him; but I cannot give the words
of his prayer, for I was so completely overcome, and touched to hear him return thanks to
his Father for the terrible sufferings which he had already endured for me, and for the still
greater which he was about to endure. I could only repeat over and over with the greatest
fervour, ‘Lord, I beseech thee, give me these sufferings: they belong to me: I have deserved
them in punishment for my sins.’ I was quite overwhelmed with feelings of love and
compassion when I looked upon him thus welcoming the first dawn of the great day of his
Sacrifice, and that ray of light which penetrated into his prison might, indeed, be compared
to the visit of a judge who wishes to be reconciled to a criminal before the sentence of death
which he has pronounced upon him is executed.
The archers, who were dozing, woke up for a moment, and looked at him with surprise:
they said nothing, but appeared to be somewhat astonished and frightened. Our Divine
Lord was confined in this prison an hour, or thereabouts.
Whilst Jesus was in this dungeon, Judas, who had been wandering up and down the
valley of Hinnom like a madman, directed his step towards the house of Caiphas, with the
thirty pieces of silver, the reward of his treachery, still hanging to his waist. All was silent
around, and he addressed himself to some of the sentinels, without letting them know who
he was, and asked what was going to be done to the Galilean. ‘He has been condemned to
death, and he will certainly be crucified,’ was the reply. Judas walked to and fro, and
listened to the different conversations which were held concerning Jesus. Some spoke of the
cruel treatment he had received, other of his astonishing patience, while others, again
discoursed concerning the solemn trial which was to take place in the morning before the
great Council. Whilst the traitor was listening eagerly to the different opinions given, day
dawned; the members of the tribunal commenced their preparations, and Judas slunk
behind the building that he might not be seen, for like Cain he sought to hide himself from
human eyes, and despair was beginning to take possession of his soul. The place in which
he took refuge happened to be the very spot where the workmen had been preparing the
wood for making the cross of our Lord; all was in readiness, and the men were asleep by its
side. Judas was filled with horror at the sight: he shuddered and fled when he beheld the
instrument of that cruel death to which for a paltry sum of money he had delivered up his
Lord and Master; he ran to and fro in perfect agonies of remorse, and finally hid himself in
an adjoining cave, where he determined to await the trial which was to take place in the
morning.
CHAPTER XIII.
The Morning Trial.
Caiphas, Annas, the ancients, and the scribes assembled in the morning in the great hall
of the tribunal, to have a legal trial, as meetings at night were not lawful, and could only be
looked upon in the light of preparatory audiences. The majority of the members had slept in
the house of Caiphas, where beds had been prepared for them, but some, and among them
Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea, had gone home, and returned at the dawn of day.
The meeting was crowded, and the members commenced their operations in the most
hurried manner possible. They wished to condemn Jesus to death at once, but Nicodemus,
Joseph, and some others opposed their wishes and demanded that the decision should be
deferred until after the festival, for fear of causing an insurrection among the people,
maintaining likewise that no criminal could be justly condemned upon charges which were
not proved, and that in the case now before them all the witnesses contradicted one another.
The High Priests and their adherents became very angry, and told Joseph and Nicodemus,
in plain terms, that they were not surprised at their expressing displeasure at what had been
done, because they were themselves partisans of the Galilean and his doctrines, and were
fearful of being convicted. The High Priest even went so far as to endeavour to exclude from
the Council all those members who were in the lightest degree favourable to Jesus. These
members protested that they washed their hands of all the future proceedings of the Council,
and leaving the room went to the Temple, and from this day never again took their seats in
the Council. Caiphas then ordered the guards to bring Jesus once more into his presence,
and to prepare everything for taking him to Pilate’s court directly he should have
pronounced sentence. The emissaries of the Council hurried off to the prison, and with their
usual brutality untied the hands of Jesus, dragged off the old mantle which they had thrown
over his shoulders, made him put on his own soiled garment, and having fastened ropes
round his waist, dragged him out of the prison. The appearance of Jesus, when he passed
through the midst of the crowd who were already assembled in the front of the house, was
that of a victim led to be sacrificed; his countenance was totally changed and disfigured
from ill-usage, and his garments stained and torn; but the sight of his sufferings, far from
exciting a feeling of compassion in the hard hearted Jews, simply filled them with disgust,
and increased their rage. Pity was, indeed, a feeling unknown in their cruel breasts.
Caiphas, who did not make the slightest effort to conceal his hatred, addressed our Lord
haughtily in these words: ‘If thou be Christ , tell us plainly.’ Then Jesus raised his head, and
answered with great dignity and calmness, ‘If I shall tell you, you will not believe me; and if I
shall also ask you, you will not answer me, or let me go. But hereafter the Son of Man shall be sitting
on the right hand of the power of God.’ The High Priests looked at one another, and said to
Jesus, with a disdainful laugh, ‘Art thou, then, the Son of God?’ And Jesus answered, with the
voice of eternal truth, ‘You say that I am.’ At these words they all exclaimed, ‘What need we
any further testimony? For we ourselves have heard it from his own mouth.’
They all arose instantly and vied with each other as to who should heap the most abusive
epithets upon Jesus, whom they termed a low-born miscreant, who aspired to being their
Messiah, and pretended to be entitled to sit at the right hand of God. They ordered the
archers to tie his hands again, and to fasten a chain round his neck (this was usually done to
criminals condemned to death), and they then prepared to conduct him to Pilate’s hall,
where a messenger had already been dispatched to beg him to have all in readiness for
trying a criminal, as it was necessary to make no delay on account of the festival day.
The Jewish Priests murmured among themselves at being obliged to apply to the Roman
governor for the confirmation of their sentence, but it was necessary, as they had not the
right of condemning criminals excepting for things which concerned religion and the
Temple alone, and they could not pass a sentence of death. They wished to prove that Jesus
was an enemy to the emperor, and this accusation concerned those departments which were
under Pilate’s jurisdiction. The soldiers were all standing in front of the house, surrounded
by a large body of the enemies of Jesus, and of common persons attracted by curiosity. The
High Priests and a part of the Council walked at the head of the procession, and Jesus, led
by archers, and guarded by soldiers, followed, while the mob brought up the rear. They
were obliged to descend Mount Sion, and cross a part of the lower town to reach Pilate’s
palace, and many priests who had attended the Council went to the Temple directly
afterwards, as it was necessary to prepare for the festival.
CHAPTER XIV.
The Despair of Judas
Whilst the Jews were conducting Jesus to Pilate, the traitor Judas walked about listening
to the conversation of the crowd who followed, and his ears were struck by words such as
these: ‘They are taking him before Pilate; the High Priests have condemned the Galilean to
death; he will be crucified; they will accomplish his death; he has been already dreadfully illtreated;
his patience is wonderful, he answers not; his only words are that he is the Messiah,
and that he will be seated at the right hand of God; they will crucify him on account of
those words; had he not said them they could not have condemned him to death. The
miscreant who sold him was one of his disciples; and had a short time before eaten the
Paschal lamb with him; not for worlds would I have had to do with such an act; however
guilty the Galilean may be, he has not at all events sold his friend for money; such an
infamous character as this disciple is infinitely more deserving of death.’ Then, but too late,
anguish, despair, and remorse took possession of the mind of Judas. Satan instantly
prompted
him to fly. He fled as if a thousand furies were at his heel, and the bag which was hanging at
his side struck him as he ran, and propelled him as a spur from hell; but he took it into his
hand to prevent its blows. He fled as fast as possible, but where did he fly? Not towards the
crowd, that he might cast himself at the feet of Jesus, his merciful Saviour, implore his
pardon, and beg do die with him,—not to confess his fault with true repentance before God,
but to endeavour to unburden himself before the world of his crime, and of the price of his
treachery. He ran like one beside himself into the Temple, where several members of the
Council had gathered together after the judgment of Jesus. They looked at one another with
astonishment; and then turned their haughty countenances, on which a smile of irony was
visible, upon Judas. He with a frantic gesture tore the thirty pieces of silver from his side,
and holding them forth with his right hand, exclaimed in accents of the most deep despair,
‘Take back your silver—that silver with which you bribed me to betray this just man; take
back your silver; release Jesus; our compact is at an end; I have sinned grievously, for I have
betrayed innocent blood.’ The priests answered him in the most contemptuous manner, and,
as if fearful of contaminating themselves by the contact of the reward of the traitor, would
not touch the silver he tended, but replied, ‘What have we to do with thy sin? If thou
thinkest to have sold innocent blood, it is thine own affair; we know what we have paid for,
and we have judged him worthy of death. Thou hast thy money, say no more.’ They
addressed these words to him in the abrupt tone in which men usually speak when anxious
to get rid of a troublesome person, and instantly arose and walked away. These words filled
Judas with such rage and despair that he became almost frantic: his hair stood on end on his
head; he rent in two the bag which contained the thirty pieces of silver, cast them down in
the Temple, and fled to the outskirts of the town.
I again beheld him rushing to and fro like a madman in the valley of Hinnom: Satan was
by his side in a hideous form, whispering in his ear, to endeavour to drive him to despair, all
the curses which the prophets had hurled upon this valley, where the Jews formerly
sacrificed their children to idols.
It appeared as if all these maledictions were directed against him, as in these words, for
instance: ‘They shall go forth, and behold the carcases of those who have sinned against me, whose
worm dieth not, and whore fires shall never be extinguished.’ Then the devil murmured in his ears,
‘Cain, where is thy brother Abel? What hast thou done?—his blood cries to me for
vengeance: thou art cursed upon earth, a wanderer for ever.’ When he reached the torrent of
Cedron, and saw Mount Olivet, he shuddered, turned away, and again the words vibrated
in his ear, ‘Friend, whereto art thou come? Judas, dost thou betray the Son of Man with a kiss?’
Horror filled his soul, his head began to wander, and the arch fiend again whispered, ‘It was
here that David crossed the Cedron when he fled from Absalom. Absalom put an end to his
life by hanging himself. It was of thee that David spoke when he said: “And they repaid me
evil for good; hatred for my love. May the devil stand at his right hand; when he is judged, may he go
out condemned. May his days be few, and his bishopric let another take. May the iniquity of his father
be remembered in the sight of the Lord, and let not the sin of his mother be blotted out, because he
remembered not to show mercy, but persecuted the poor man and the beggar and the broken in heart, to
put him to death. And he loved cursing, and it shall come unto him. And he put on cursing like a
garment, and it went in like water into his entrails, and like oil into his bones. May it be unto him like
a garment which covereth him; and like a girdle, with which he is girded continually.” Overcome by
these terrible thoughts Judas rushed on, and reached the foot of the mountain. It was a
dreary, desolate spot filled with rubbish and putrid remains; discordant sounds from the city
reverberated in his ears, and Satan continually repeated, ‘They are now about to put him to
death; thou has sold him. Knowest thou not the words of the law, “He who sells a soul among
his brethren, and receives the price of it, let him die the death”? Put an end to thy misery, wretched
one; put an end to thy misery.’ Overcome by despair Judas tore off his girdle, and hung
himself on a tree which grew in a crevice of the rock, and after death his body burst asunder,
and his bowels were scattered around.
CHAPTER XV.
Jesus is taken before Pilate.
The malicious enemies of our Saviour led him through the most public part of the town
to take him before Pilate. The procession wended its way slowly down the north side of the
mountain of Sion, then passed through that section on the eastern side of the Temple, called
Acre, towards the palace and tribunal of Pilate, which were seated on the north-west side of
the Temple, facing a large square. Caiphas, Annas, and many others of the Chief Council,
walked first in festival attire; they were followed by a multitude of scribes and many other
Jews, among whom were the false witnesses, and the wicked Pharisees who had taken the
most prominent part in accusing Jesus. Our Lord followed at a short distance; he was
surrounded by a band of soldiers, and led by the archers. The multitude thronged on all
sides and followed the procession, thundering forth the most fearful oaths and imprecations,
while groups of persons were hurrying to and fro, pushing and jostling one another. Jesus
was stripped of all save his under garment, which was stained and soiled by the filth which
had been flung upon it; a long chain was hanging round his neck, which struck his knees as
he walked; his hands were pinioned as on the previous day, and the archers dragged him by
the ropes which were fastened round his waist. He tottered rather than walked, and was
almost unrecognisable from the effects of his sufferings during the night;—he was
colourless, haggard, his face swollen and even bleeding, and his merciless persecutors
continued to torment him each moment more and more. They had gathered together a large
body of the dregs of the people, in order to make his present disgraceful entrance into the
city a parody on his triumphal entrance on Palm Sunday. They mocked, and with derisive
gestures called him king, and tossed in his path stones, bits of wood; and filthy rags; they
made game of, and by a thousand taunting speeches mocked him, during this pretended
triumphal entry.
In the corner of a building, not far from the house of Caiphas, the afflicted Mother of
Jesus, with John and Magdalen, stood watching for him. Her soul was ever united to his;
but propelled by her love, she left no means untried which could enable her really to
approach him. She remained at the Cenacle for some time after her midnight visit to the
tribunal of Caiphas, powerless and speechless from grief; but when Jesus was dragged forth
from his prison, to be again brought before his judges, she arose, cast her veil and cloak
about her, and said to Magdalen and John: ‘Let us follow my Son to Pilate’s court; I must
again look upon him.’ They went to a place through which the procession must pass, and
waited for it. The Mother of Jesus knew that her Son was suffering dreadfully, but never
could she have conceived the deplorable, the heartrending condition to which he was
reduced by the brutality of his enemies. Her imagination had depicted him to her as
suffering fearfully, but yet supported and illuminated by sanctity, love, and patience. Now,
however, the sad reality burst upon her. First in the procession appeared the priests, those
most bitter enemies of her Divine Son. They were decked in flowing robes; but at, terrible to
say, instead of appearing resplendent in their character of priests of the Most High, they
were transformed into priests of Satan, for no one could look upon their wicked
countenances without beholding there, portrayed in vivid colours, the evil passions with
which their souls were filled—deceit, infernal cunning, and a raging anxiety to carry out
that most tremendous of crimes, the death of their Lord and Saviour, the only Son of God.
Next followed the false witnesses, his perfidious accusers, surrounded by the vociferating
populace; and last of all—himself—her Son—Jesus, the Son of God, the Son of Man,
loaded with chains, scarcely able to support himself, but pitilessly dragged on by his infernal
enemies, receiving blows from some, buffets from others, and from the whole assembled
rabble curses, abuse, and the most scurrilous language. He would have been perfectly
unrecognisable even to her maternal eyes, stripped as he was of all save a torn remnant of
his garment, had she not instantly marked the contrast between his behaviour and that of his
vile tormentors. He alone in the midst of persecution and suffering looked calm and
resigned, and far from returning blow for blow, never raised his hands but in acts of
supplication to his Eternal Father for the pardon of his enemies. As he approached, she was
unable to restrain herself any longer, but exclaimed in thrilling accents: ‘Alas! is that my
Son? Ah, yes! I see that it is my beloved Son. O, Jesus, my Jesus!’ When the procession was
almost opposite, Jesus looked upon her with an expression of the greatest love and
compassion; this look was too much for the heartbroken mother: she became for the
moment totally unconscious, and John and Magdalen endeavoured to carry her home, but
she quickly roused herself, and accompanied the beloved disciple to Pilate’s house.
The inhabitants of the town of Ophel were all gathered together in an open space to meet
Jesus, but far from administering comfort, they added a fresh ingredient to his cup of
sorrow; they inflicted upon him that sharp pang which must ever be felt by those who see
their friends abandon them in the hour of adversity. Jesus had done much for the
inhabitants of Ophel, but no sooner did they see him reduced to such a state of misery and
degradation, than their faith was shaken; they could no longer believe him to be a king, a
prophet, the Messiah, and the Son of God. The Pharisees jeered and made game of them,
on account of the admiration they had formerly expressed for Jesus. ‘Look at your king
now,’ they exclaimed; ‘do homage to him; have you no congratulations to offer him now
that he is about to be crowned , and seated on his throne? All his boasted miracles are at an
end; the High Priest has put an end to his tricks and witchcraft.’
Notwithstanding the remembrance which these poor people had of the miracles and
wonderful cures which had been performed under their very eyes by Jesus; notwithstanding
the great benefits he had bestowed upon them, their faith was shaken by beholding him thus
derided and pointed out as an object of contempt by the High Priest and the members of the
Sanhedrin, who were regarded in Jerusalem with the greatest veneration. Some went away
doubting, while others remained and endeavoured to join the rabble, but they were
prevented by the guards, who had been sent by the Pharisees, to prevent riots and confusion.