Describe the scene and emotions at the crucifixion of Christ as a witness.

“We have a law, and according to the Law he ought to die, because he has claimed to be the Son of God.” The verdict was passed and the men walked out briskly, conducting the matter with a civil air about them, as if instructed to deal with some sort of plague. Though in every way the subject was human, of flesh and blood, just as any one of us; yet his claims bold, that crowns himself the righteous king, and above all the King of the Jews. How by any stretch of imagination could he possibly be Son of God? For he is simple peasant, of the lowest rung and order of society. A crack in the broken tiling of the pathway, nothing more than a meaningless cobblestone kicked away on the sidewalk, a drop of water in the ocean, a tiny contribution in the vivacity of the world. A man to be noted for his unpopularity, his ill fate, his unlucky redemption, his fatal final judgement – his call of death!  A man doomed by destiny and the destruction of his own people, the ones he so ironically came down to gratify, save and award salvation.

Take him away, take him away. Crucify him! The death toll repeated continuously, spreading an ominous vibe. Shockwaves of surprised and excited people partook in the celebrating, pure aggressive pleasure. Then they took charge of Jesus and carrying his own cross he went out of the city to the place of the skull, the fields of death, or as it was called in Hebrew, Golgotha. Sweat rolled down his forehead, his hair hung limp, matted down his head and his back. The dirt smudges ran along his body, and bruises entwined his body, sapping little sprouts that bleed. They crucified him with two others, one on either side with Jesus in the middle. His face burdened with the conscience of the crowd, and the awareness of the actual situation.

 Pilate wrote out a notice and fixed it to the cross; it ran: ‘Jesus the Nazarene, King of the Jews.’ It was engraved in three of the regional languages so onlookers came to stare and to mock.

When the soldiers finished crucifying Jesus they took his clothing and divided it into four shares, one for each soldier. His undergarment was seamless, woven in one piece from neck to hem, so one said to one another, instead of tearing it, lets throw dice to decide who is to have it. They reduced whatever sliver of self-respect he may have had to absolutely nothing. He had been robed of it all, he was a dead body that no one cared about, a corpse that had only faded away shortly, separated by hatred in the same ugly way that he was hated when he lived.