Who Will Believe?  

Assuming that scourging will satisfy the mob, Pilate orders guards to do it, while he retreats to wash his hands. 

   "No one will believe in him," Tormenter resumes taunting. "We planted religions and gods all over the world to appeal to mortals. Who will worship a god whipped by men?" 

   Pilate again coaxes Jesus to defend himself. "Don't you know I have the power to crucify you?" You have no power except that given you from above. Well. Only one person can be in control here, and it isn't the defendant. 

   Not one to inflict death on the innocent, Pilate seeks to release him. "Behold, your king!" Demons stir the crowd ... "Crucify him! Crucify him!" 

   Rome's standard of justice gives way to expediency. "Take him away." 

   He is now at the mercy of Roman soldiers. Foreign duty in this peculiar land is not their idea of choice assignment. They entertain themselves when they can. Pleasure and brutality coincide. 

Hail to the king   

   Soldiers replace his clothing with a scarlet robe, befitting a king. He waits while they gather thorny vines for a crown to press onto his head. They give him a reed for a staff, and bow before him. "Hail to the king." 

   A soldier grabs the reed and begins hitting him on his head. He spits in his face. Above, Prophet recalls prophecy that horrifically comes to pass.

He was despised and rejected by men.

Surely, he took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows.

He committed no sin, and no deceit was found in his mouth.

He was numbered with the transgressors.

Men loved darkness...because their deeds were evil.

   Several women in tears follow their beloved teacher toward a skull-shaped, rocky hill outside city walls. Don't weep for me, they hear him say, but for yourselves and your children. 

   The battalion is ordered to stand down. 

Tomorrow: Staining the rock red