Additionally, this discourse highlighted Pilate's vacillation and signaled to the Jews that the advantage lay with the throng. Consequently, they repeatedly shouted with fierce and vile outbursts, “Put Him to death! Crucify Him, and release Barabbas!”
Pilate, witnessing this frenzy fueled by the forces of darkness, was again reminded of a scene years prior outside his palace in Caesarea, when the same Jewish mob, incited by their leaders, howled and yelled for six days without fearing the Roman soldiers, continuing their siege until the proud procurator capitulated to their relentless clamoring, granting victory to this contemptible crowd. Back then, it was a matter of preserving the honor of the Roman standards, yet Pilate acquiesced; now, however, it was solely a concern for defending an innocent man against the blinded hatred of His own people—a Jew among the Jews—should we emphasize this? Yet, as he exhaustedly fought against the tide, his gaze fell upon the Prisoner. The Roman sense of justice, which in its finest expressions upholds righteousness above all, was reignited within him. Before him stood the very essence of innocence. Amidst the turmoil of shouting, stomping, and violently gesturing by the crowd, surrounded by malevolent, distorted faces with bloodthirsty eyes, stood resolutely the tall, white-coated figure of the Divine. The Prisoner, seemingly lost in His sacred thoughts, appeared untouched by the chaos surrounding Him, as though it did not pertain to Him at all, and the fury and shrieks were directed at someone else. This extraordinary serenity in the face of the dreadful destiny awaiting Him stirred profound sympathy in the Roman's heart. He was astonished to realize that even among the Jews there existed figures of honor like Coriolanus, Regulus, and Mucius Scaevola. Yet, such noble bravery is a rare exception in a people generally marked by contemptibility, insolence, and cowardice; thus, it was imperative to rescue this Galilean. He then made another attempt to safeguard the Prisoner.