16. JESUS MOCKED AND INSULTED
As soon as Caiaphas, having delivered Jesus to the soldiers, left the judgment hall with his Council, the very scum of the miscreants present fell like a swarm of infuriated wasps upon Our Lord, who until then had been held fast by two of the four executioners that guided the ropes with which He was bound. Two of them had retired before the sentence, in order to make their escape with the others. Even during the trial, the executioners and other wretches had cruelly torn whole handfuls of hair from the head and beard of Jesus. Some good persons secretly picked up the locks of hair from the ground and slipped away with them, but after a little while it disappeared from their possession. During the trial also the miscreants had spat upon Jesus, struck Him again and again with their fists, goaded Him with cudgels whose rounded ends were armed with sharp points, and had even run needles into His body. But now they exercised their villainy upon Him in a manner altogether frantic and irrational. They put upon Him, one after the other, several crowns of straw and bark plaited in various ludicrous forms which, with wicked words of mockery, they afterward struck from His head. Sometimes they cried: “Behold the Son of David crowned with the crown of His Father!” Or again: “Behold, here is more than Solomon!” Or: “This is the king who is preparing a marriage feast for His son!” And thus they turned to ridicule all the eternal truths which, for the salvation of mankind, He had in truth and parables taught. They struck Him with their fists and sticks, threw Him from side to side, and spat upon Him. At last they plaited a crown of coarse wheat straw, such as grows in that country, put upon Him a high cap, almost similar to the high mitres of the present day; and, after stripping Him of His knitted robe, placed over the mitre the straw crown. There, now, stood poor Jesus clothed only in His nether-bandage and the scapular that fell on His breast and back; but this last they soon tore from Him, and He never recovered it. They threw around Him an old, tattered mantle too short in front to cover the knees, and put around His neck a long iron chain which, like a stole, hung from the shoulders across the breast and down to the knees. The ends of the chain were furnished with two great, heavy rings studded with sharp points which, as He walked, struck against His knees and wounded them severely. They pinioned anew His hands upon His breast, placed in them a reed, and covered His disfigured countenance with the spittle of their impure mouths. His torn hair and beard, His breast, and the whole of the upper part of the mantle of derision were laden with filth in every degree of loathsomeness. They tied a rag across His eyes, struck Him with their fists and sticks, and cried out: “Great Prophet! Prophesy, who has struck Thee?” But Jesus answered not. He prayed interiorly, sighed, and bore their blows. Thus ill-used, blindfolded, and covered with filth, they dragged Him by the chain into the rear council hall. They kicked Him and drove Him forward with their clubs, while uttering such derisive cries as, “Forward, O King of Straw! He must show Himself to the Council in the regal insignia which we have bestowed upon Him!” When they entered the council hall wherein many of the members were still sitting with Caiaphas on the elevated, semi-circular platform, a new scene of outrage began; and with an utterly base meaning and purely sacrilegious violation, sacred customs and ceremonies were imitated. As, for instance, when they covered Jesus with mud and spittle, the vile miscreants exclaimed: “Here now is Thy royal unction, Thy prophetic unction!” It was thus they mockingly alluded to Magdalen’s anointing and to Baptism. “What!” they cried jeeringly, “art Thou going to appear before the Sanhedrin in this unclean trim? Thou wast wont to purify others, and yet Thou art not clean Thyself. But we will now purify Thee.” Thereupon, they brought a basin full of foul, muddy water in which lay a coarse rag; and amid pushes, jests, and mockery mingled with ironical bows and salutations, with sticking out the tongue at Him or turning up to Him their hinder parts, they passed the wet smeary rag over His face and shoulders as if cleansing Him, though in reality rendering Him more filthy than before. Finally, they poured the whole contents of the basin over His face with the mocking words: “There, now, is precious balm for Thee! There now, Thou hast nard water at a cost of three hundred pence! Now, Thou hast Thy baptism of the Pool of Bethsaida!”
This last outrage showed forth, though without their intending it, the likeness between Jesus and the Paschal lamb, for on this day the lambs slaughtered for sacrifice were first washed in the pond near the sheep gate and then in the Pool of Bethsaida to the south of the Temple. They were then solemnly sprinkled with water before being slaughtered in the Temple for the Passover. The enemies of Jesus were alluding to the paralytic who for thirty-eight years had been sick, and who had been cured by Him at the Pool of Bethsaida, for I afterward saw that same man washed or baptized in its waters. I say “washed or baptized,” because at this moment the action with its circumstances does not recur clearly to my mind.
Now they dragged and pulled Jesus around with kicks and blows in the circle formed by the members of the Council, all of whom greeted Him with raillery and abuse. I saw the whole assembly filled with raging, diabolical figures. It was a scene of horrible gloom and confusion. But around the ill-treated Jesus, since the moment in which He said that He was the Son of God, I frequently saw a glory, a splendour. Many of those present seemed to have an interior perception of the same, some more, others less; they experienced, at least, a feeling of dread upon seeing that, in spite of the scorn and ignominy with which He was laden, the indescribable majesty of His bearing remained unchanged. The halo around Him seemed to incite His enemies to a higher degree of fury. But to me that glory appeared so remarkable that I am of opinion that they veiled Jesus’ countenance on that account, because since the words: “I am He,” the High Priest could no longer endure His glance.
17. PETER’S DENIAL
When Jesus solemnly uttered the words: “I am He,” and Caiaphas rent his garments crying out: “He is guilty of death”—when the hall resounded with the mocking cries and furious shouts of the rabble—when the heavens opened above Jesus—when Hell gave free vent to its rage—when the graves gave up their captive spirits—when all was horror and consternation—then were Peter and John, who had suffered much from having to witness silently and passively the frightful abuse to which Jesus was subjected, no longer able to remain. John went out with many of the crowd and some of the witnesses who were leaving the hall, and hurried off to the Mother of Jesus, who was staying at Martha’s, not far from the corner gate, where Lazarus owned a beautiful house in Jerusalem. But Peter could not go—he loved Jesus too much. He could scarcely contain himself. He wept bitterly, though trying to hide his tears as well as he could. He could not remain standing any longer in the judgment hall, for his deep emotion would have betrayed him, nor could he leave without attracting notice. So, he retired to the atrium and took a place in the corner near the fire, around which soldiers and people of all kinds were standing in groups. They went out occasionally to mock Jesus and then came back to make their low, vulgar remarks upon what they had done. Peter kept silence; but already the interest he manifested in the proceedings, joined to the expression of deep grief depicted on his countenance, drew upon him the attention of Jesus’ enemies. Just at this moment, the portress approached the fire; and as all were prating and jesting at Jesus’ expense and that of His disciples, she, like a bold woman, saucily put in her word and, fixing her eyes upon Peter, said: “Thou too art one of the Galilean’s disciples!” Peter, startled and alarmed, and fearing rough treatment from the rude crowd, answered: “Woman, I know Him not! I know not what thou meanest. I do not understand thee!” With these words, wishing to free himself from further remark, he arose and left the atrium. At that moment, a cock somewhere outside the city crowed. I do not remember having heard it, but I felt that it was crowing outside the city. As Peter was making his way out, another maidservant caught sight of him, and said to the bystanders: “This man, also, was with Jesus of Nazareth.” They at once questioned him: “Art thou not also one of His disciples?” Peter, greatly troubled and perplexed, answered with an oath: “Truly, I am not! I do not even know the man!” And he hurried through the inner to the exterior court, to warn some of his acquaintances whom he saw looking over the wall. He was weeping and so full of grief and anxiety on Jesus’ account that he hardly gave his denial a thought. In the other court were many people, among them some of Jesus’ friends, who not being able to get nearer to the scene of action, had climbed on the wall to be better able to hear. Peter, being allowed to go out, found among them a number of disciples whom anxiety had forced hither from their caves on Mount Hinnom. They went straight up to Peter, and with many tears questioned him about Jesus. But he was so excited and so fearful of betraying himself that he advised them in a few words to go away, as there was danger for them where they were. Then he turned off and wandered gloomily about, while they, acting on his word, hastened to leave the city. I recognized about sixteen of the first disciples among them: Bartholomew, Nathanael, Saturnin, Judas Barsabas, Simeon (later on, Bishop of Jerusalem), Zacchaeus, and Manahem, the youth endowed with the gift of prophecy but born blind, to whom Jesus had restored sight.
Peter could not rest anywhere. His love for Jesus drove him back into the inner court that surrounded the house. They let him in again, on account of Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea, who had in the first instance procured his admittance. He did not, however, return to the court of the judgment hall, but turning went along to the right until he reached the entrance of the circular hall at the back of the tribunal. In that hall was Jesus being dragged about and abused by the vile rabble. Peter drew near trembling, and although he felt himself an object of remark, yet his anxiety for Jesus drove him through the doorway, which was beset by the crowd watching the outrages heaped upon Jesus. Just then they were dragging Him, crowned with straw, around the circle. Jesus cast a glance full of earnest warning upon Peter, a glance that pierced him to the soul. But when, still struggling with fear, he heard from some of the bystanders the words: “What fellow is that?” he re-entered the court. There, sad and distracted with compassion for Jesus and anxiety for his own safety, he wandered about with loitering steps. At last seeing that he was attracting notice upon himself, he went again into the atrium and took a seat by the fire. He had sat there a considerable time when some that had seen him outside and noticed his preoccupied and excited manner re-entered and again directed their attention to him, while referring in slighting terms to Jesus and His affairs. One of them said: “Truly, thou also dost belong to His adherents! Thou art a Galilean. Thy speech betrays thee.” Peter began to evade the remark and to make his way out of the hall, when a brother of Malchus stepped up to him and said: “What! Did I not see thee with Him in the Garden of Olives? Didst thou not wound my brother’s ear?”
Peter became like one beside himself with terror. While trying to free himself, he began in his impetuous way to curse and swear that he knew not the man, and ended by running out of the atrium into the court that surrounded the house. The cock again crowed. Just at that moment, Jesus was being led from the circular hall and across this court down into a prison under it. He turned toward Peter and cast upon him a glance of mingled pity and sadness. Forcibly and with a terrifying power, the word of Jesus fell upon his heart: “Before the cock crows twice, thou wilt deny Me thrice!” Worn out with grief and anxiety, Peter had entirely forgotten his presumptuous protestation on the Mount of Olives, rather to die with his Master than to deny Him, as also the warning he had then received from Jesus. But at that glance, the enormity of his fault rose up before him and well-nigh broke his heart. He had sinned. He had sinned against his ill-treated, unjustly condemned Saviour, who was silently enduring the most horrible outrages, who had so truly warned him to be on his guard. Filled with remorse and sorrow, he covered his head with his mantle and hurried into the other court, weeping bitterly. He no longer feared being accosted. To everyone he met he would willingly have proclaimed who he was, and how great was the crime that rested on him. Who would presume to say that in such danger, affliction, anxiety, and perplexity, in such a struggle between love and fear, worn out with fatigue, consumed by watching, pursued by dread, half-crazed from pain of mind caused by the overwhelming sorrows of this most pitiful night, with a temperament at once so childlike and so ardent, he would have been stronger than Peter? The Lord left Peter to his own strength, therefore did he become so weak, just as they always do that lose sight of the words: “Pray and watch, that ye enter not into temptation.”
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