It's okay, they gave him a ton of tequila before the crucifixion, Set. Contrary to popular belief, he felt no pain.
Now here is a poem to ponder, by John Donne, who I really enoy. It certainly wasn't unusual for medieval Christians to hate Jews, but I did find the use of this reality at the time very intriguing, poetically:
Holy Sonnet XI: Spit In My Face You Jews, And Pierce My Side
John Donne
Spit in my face you Jews, and pierce my side,
Buffet, and scoff, scourge, and crucify me,
For I have sinned, and sinned, and only he
Who could do no iniquity hath died:
But by my death can not be satisfied
My sins, which pass the Jews' impiety:
They killed once an inglorious man, but I
Crucify him daily, being now glorified.
Oh let me, then, his strange love still admire:
Kings pardon, but he bore our punishment.
And Jacob came clothed in vile harsh attire
But to supplant, and with gainful intent:
God clothed himself in vile man's flesh, that so
He might be weak enough to suffer woe.
To think that all this came from a poor, soul-torn poet who just wanted to get laid without guilt.