Here is a man who is in excruciating pain, who has been humiliated and mocked, abandoned by his friends, scourged, stripped of his clothes, so that he is naked except, perhaps, for a loincloth, and who is probably now gasping for the smallest amount of air, given the method of his execution, and the nature of the instrument of that execution (which would cause each instant of his straining to put pressure on his wounds, and increase his agony); and upon him is foisted the knowledge not only of his own sorry state, but also the fact that his mother, who gave birth to him and who loves him as a mother loves her child, and is now witnessing his torture, helpless to do anything for him but stand there, and be present for him, is experiencing unspeakable grief. And that he, too, is helpless to do anything for her.