The days were troubled. The government led with a strong hand. Descent was not tolerated. Free speech was for the backrooms and woods. Disatisfaction was at a zenith. Yet no one stepped forward to speak truth to power.

A man of simple eloquence had a following. Word of mouth spread. ‘He speaks truth,’ the Lame Man said. ‘His words settle in my heart,’ the Lame Man continued. ‘He is not recognised by the powerful nor our religious leaders,’ the Lame Man continued. ‘He is dressed in our raiment and speaks with our accent,’ the Lame Man observed. ‘When I asked him where he came from, he asked me what I thought,’ the Lame Man noted. ‘The Teacher often asked a question with a question,’ the Lame Man mused. ‘He was non-descript and seemed to have no riches,’ the Lame Man explained. ‘His words were like the rushing of many waters and the flight of doves,’ the Lame Man laughed.

‘Leader…there is a man who speaks against you in the throng of humanity,’ Father said. ‘He is becoming popular with the poor and needy,’ Father continued. ‘His words are direct and pierce the hearts of many who hear them,’ Father noted. ‘I listened to him and for a brief moment…I believed,’ Father said with tears in his eyes. ‘He spoke of joy in the midst of suffering…our duty to help the poor and needy…peace in a time of war,’ Father said. ‘I heard music of a vast orchestra although there was none visibly present,’ Father explained. ‘The Teacher said he was back…although most did not realise it,’ Father said with a smile. ‘He speaks of being tempted by wealth and fame…internet influencers desire him to come on their podcasts…he said that he was offered all of the kingdoms of the world if he would just listen to you…Leader,’ Father said with solemnity. ‘The Teacher said he has chosen the poor of the land as his flock…those who are marginalised…halt and hungry…the forgotten,’ Father continued. ‘The Teacher says he is here to see us through the End Of Days…Armageddon…the Apocalypse,’ Father said.

‘Give us Barabas, the Throng cried out!

The Teacher’s back bled from the lash,’ Mary said. ‘The crown of thorns caused blood to impair his vision, Mary continued. ‘He is first of all…kind,’ Mary said. ‘He is unassuming and gentle,’ Mary noted. ‘He is a man who you would not pick out of the crowd of fishermen and carpenters unless you saw his eyes and heard him speak,’ Mary noted. ‘He loves his mother…he works with his hands as a carpenter in his Dad’s shop,’ Mary continued. ‘He came slowly to his role as Teacher…he wanted to open his own carpenter shop…he enjoys eating roasted lamb and fish cake with figs for dessert,’ Mary said. ‘He loves playing with his brothers and sisters and visiting the theatre to see the performances,’ Mary explained. He is a storyteller and writer…he loves to make people happy,’ Mary said with a smile. ‘He grieves when he sees people with leprosy and crippled…he loves the unloved,’ Mary said with tears in her eyes. ‘He talked with me as to the mission God had for him and wondered if it was his imagination or the truth,’ Mary said. ‘He wrestled with his doubts in the Garden and almost gave in to a deceiver with a voice of oil and pleasant to the ear,’ Mary noted.

‘What shall we do in the face of overt oppression?’ Child asked. ‘Is it safer to comply with the wishes of the Leader and disappear into the crowd of followers?’ Child asked. ‘Teacher says stay close to him, and he will see us through,’ the Child continued. ‘I love my friends who are hungry and hurting,’ the Child said. ‘My friends tell me to go along, but I can not when it hurts my friends, ‘ the Child said.

‘Never have I seen such a man,’ the Roman Centurian said. ‘He forgave us…We did not deserve it,’ Roman Centurian said. ‘He did not want to die…he was full of life and love…care for those who had no one to care for them,’ Roman Centaurian said. ‘He had the appearance of the angels,’ the Roman Centurian observed. ‘Have we crucified the one who had come to save us?’ Roman Centurion asked.