Author: Aaron

Two others—criminals—were also led away to be executed with him. When they arrived at the place called The Skull, they crucified him there, along with the criminals, one on the right and one on the left. Then Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, because they do not know what they are doing.” And they divided his clothes and cast lots.

The people stood watching, and even the leaders were scoffing: “He saved others; let him save himself if this is God’s Messiah, the Chosen One!” The soldiers also mocked him. They came offering him sour wine and said, “If you are the king of the Jews, save yourself!”

An inscription was above him: This Is the King of the Jews.

Then one of the criminals hanging there began to yell insults at him: “Aren’t you the Messiah? Save yourself and us!”

But the other answered, rebuking him: “Don’t you even fear God, since you are undergoing the same punishment? We are punished justly, because we’re getting back what we deserve for the things we did, but this man has done nothing wrong.” Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

And he said to him, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.” Luke 23:32-43 (CSB)

Golgotha. The end, and beginning of all things. This is delivered to you on a day we call Good, but is anything but. Good, because we remember in whom our hope truly lies. Good because we know fully the depth of God’s love. Good because in the most brutal injustice known to man, Jesus pleads before the Father, “Forgive them!” An amazing display of God’s final thought, not for himself, but for others.  But horrible for our own condition, highlighted so wonderfully by the disparity on the cross.

This beautiful story of the two criminals is only in Luke’s Gospel, and shows us the two dispositions of one’s heart as we go to our own demise. Both were criminals. Both deserved the punishment of sorts. To be on a cross required a certain level of sedition—generally undermining the integrity of Rome—to warrant crucifixion. Petty criminals, mild thieves received fines or minor civil punishments.  They were not tortured, with nails hammered through their hands and feet and left strung up to asphyxiate. 

These two deserved death. (At least, according to Rome). 

And look at the one, up to the last moment, trying to escape his condition. Spewing insults, even then not recognizing his culpability. Instead, he accuses Jesus of not using what authority he has to free them all. It’s a mocking, ridiculing tone. This man will go to his grave deriding even others who are in his condition. There is no tender heart. There is no self awareness. There is only blindness and death to the end. 

How many of us continue to refuse our condition, and shift rapidly to blame. It’s society’s fault? It’s my parents’? It’s someone else’s? If only that was fixed, I wouldn’t be doing what I’m doing. I’ve met many such people, who, even to the very end, carry the bitterness of spirit with them. I’ve seen funerals where people were chastised instead of mourned. I’ve seen that lack of cognition, never bend. The will refuses to accept that it is me! 

This outward shift, doesn’t allow for the self awareness, nor repentance that we see from the second criminal, who not only recognizes his own culpability but also recognizes and defends the innocence of Jesus. I can’t imagine having that type of awareness in my final moments, which indicates there was likely already a type of spiritual defeat. A surrender to the Father, well before this moment. In surrendering, he received his condition, and offered it up, using his last moments to defend the goodness in another. And then, a plea, not from worth or merit, but in faith for that is the only way to describe it, “Jesus, remember me in your kingdom.” 

He surrendered, repented, acted justly, and believed (trusted) and was rewarded accordingly. Some discuss this as if it’s an easy way to heaven, but that is hardly true. I imagine crucifixion is a terrible entrance way, and even given that, the work of surrender wasn’t moments, but likely days, weeks, even months. This process stewed in his heart, and he internalized it all. Death bed conversions are rarely that.

Not on his merit, but according to God’s goodness. 

Imagine Jesus, looking at this criminal with tender eyes assuring him of his entrance. Jesus, dying, assures another. While the other criminal fades away, this one is comforted, even in the direst of conditions. 

Have you done the work to prepare yourself for such a moment? It is not on one’s death bed, but well before in which we prepare fully. In the bleakness of the day, may each of us find in the silence the invitation of God to tell us who we truly are. Receive it, acknowledge it, and ask him for his mercy which is ever available. It is not what we have done, or what we haven’t done, but the love of God for us that defines us. 

And that love is Good. 

(Image of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the likeliest location of both Golgotha and the burial of Jesus.)

As they led him away, they seized Simon, a Cyrenian, who was coming in from the country, and laid the cross on him to carry behind Jesus. A large crowd of people followed him, including women who were mourning and lamenting him. But turning to them, Jesus said, “Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me, but weep for yourselves and your children. Look, the days are coming when they will say, ‘Blessed are the women without children, the wombs that never bore, and the breasts that never nursed!’ Then they will begin to say to the mountains, ‘Fall on us!’ and to the hills, ‘Cover us!’ For if they do these things when the wood is green, what will happen when it is dry?” Luke 23:26-31
(CSB)

We are not just in Jerusalem, but on the Via Dolorosa: “The Sorrowful Way”. It’s a road that winds its way through Old City Jerusalem, starting the place where Pilates’ condemnation yesterday took place, and concluding at the place of the crucifixion and burial. The final hours are upon us. At one place on the modern road, The Covenant of the Sisters of Zion, there is actually a place where you can go underground some ways down and see an old Roman walkway that likely (although there is some debate) dates to the time Jesus walked the path. One scholar labels it as the very place of Gabbatha, or yesterday’s condemnation. On it, there are still markings assumed to be those made by Roman soldiers who played with their prisoners. Lots cast for clothing. Torture toyed with. Brutal thorny crowns jammed on heads. 

A dark image of human brutality. 

It is on this street that Jesus says what he says to the women crying for him. This line haunts me.  If they’ll do this while God is present, you can’t imagine what they’ll do when he’s not. This is nothing. 

I can’t overstate this. If we would kill God when he was actually with us, how would we act if we assume he’s not around? At this point in our Journey, there should be little doubt about Jesus’ view on human nature. He wasn’t the nice tolerant, inclusive, agree to disagree person we make him out to be. There were two types of people for him: Children of God, and Children of Satan. And no one automatically belongs to the former. 

I picture this as I remember walking upon the rows of crosses at Normandy, the terrible image of so many lives lost early. 
I picture this as I think about the lynching victims within this country. 
I picture this as I look at the memorials to mass killing that we pass without notice, including against the Huguenots within the boundaries of our own city. 
I picture this as I think of the over one million children currently in sexual servitude on this planet.

One million.  

I think of this as I imagine the brutal killings in the name of ideology in the twentieth century. 
I think about this as national leaders point nuclear missiles at each other with jocular pride, teetering on the annihilation of all. 

I think of Jesus carrying these images in his own head, as he walked with that cross along this burdensome, wearying road. So beaten and tired, that someone else had to bear it for him for part of the way. But I am buoyed by the unbelievable realization that despite what he knew about the darkness of the human heart, our Lord’s compassion for us is so profound that he was willing to walk it, chose to walk it, to save those who would desire it. Even though there is darkness —deep darkness worthy of mourning— the love of God is stronger yet. While this road is known as the Way of Sorrow, it’s also known as the Way of the Cross, which has come for us — those who hope and trust in the goodness of God — as the way of God’s love. 

Very near ahead, through nauseous tears,Jesus sees his final destination, and that which will be for us our saving cry.

Golgotha looms.  

Then Pilate took Jesus and had him flogged. The soldiers also twisted together a crown of thorns, put it on his head, and clothed him in a purple robe. And they kept coming up to him and saying, “Hail, king of the Jews!” and were slapping his face.

Pilate went outside again and said to them, “Look, I’m bringing him out to you to let you know I find no grounds for charging him.” Then Jesus came out wearing the crown of thorns and the purple robe. Pilate said to them, “Here is the man!”

When the chief priests and the temple servants saw him, they shouted, “Crucify! Crucify!”

Pilate responded, “Take him and crucify him yourselves, since I find no grounds for charging him.”

“We have a law,” the Jews replied to him, “and according to that law he ought to die, because he made himself the Son of God.”

When Pilate heard this statement, he was more afraid than ever. He went back into the headquarters and asked Jesus, “Where are you from?” But Jesus did not give him an answer. So Pilate said to him, “Do you refuse to speak to me? Don’t you know that I have the authority to release you and the authority to crucify you?”

“You would have no authority over me at all,” Jesus answered him, “if it hadn’t been given you from above. This is why the one who handed me over to you has the greater sin.”

From that moment Pilate kept trying to release him. But the Jews shouted, “If you release this man, you are not Caesar’s friend. Anyone who makes himself a king opposes Caesar!”

When Pilate heard these words, he brought Jesus outside. He sat down on the judge’s seat in a place called the Stone Pavement (but in Aramaic, Gabbatha). It was the preparation day for the Passover, and it was about noon. Then he told the Jews, “Here is your king!”

They shouted, “Take him away! Take him away! Crucify him!”

Pilate said to them, “Should I crucify your king?”

“We have no king but Caesar!” the chief priests answered.

Then he handed him over to be crucified.

Then they took Jesus away. John 19:1-16 (CSB) 

What a distorted mockery. Remember just a few days ago when we witnessed Jesus’ triumphal entry? It was the image of God returning to Jerusalem and returning to his temple. What we clearly see now is that people did not recognize him, but rather they had a distorted image of who they believed God was, and what they wanted him to do. 

This is kind of the main thesis of John’s. He says so right at the beginning after he declares Jesus as the logos incarnate: 

The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world. He was in the world, and the world was created through him, and yet the world did not recognize him. He came to his own, and his own people did not receive him. But to all who did receive him, he gave them the right to be children of God, to those who believe in his name, who were born, not of natural descent, or of the will of the flesh, or of the will of man, but of God. John 1:9-13 (CSB) 

They not only don’t recognize him, but they cast a distorted image of him. The crown of thorns, and the cries to crucify him are reverberations of what we did to God in the garden. They are shadows of his true regal image, seen through the lens of men who would sooner take his place through regicide. He is even presented in mockery by the perceived powers of the world. God turned into a joke, worthy of debasement.  As if they have real power.

“We don’t need him!” 
“He’s not our God!” 
“We can be like him!” 
“He is no king!”

If you’ve never heard that rebellion within your own heart, then you’ve not fully internalized the reality of our condition. 

But John also gives us salvation. While most won’t, some will recognize him for who he is. And these, these ones who see beyond the shadow veiled before their eyes, are invited to be Children of God. They will be born anew by the living Spirit (John 3:3) that is available upon recognition. I heard recently in a sermon by Bp. Robert Barron that all it takes for God to forgive is the tiniest tear. The smallest shift of the eye. The subtlest pause. The conscience piques, and our throat closes as we jeer “crucify” from the crowd. 

Wait, we say.
What am I doing? Maybe it is not him. 

And, like a flood, the light pours in, like water gushing through a broken dyke. 

It is enough. 

Child, welcome, the Father speaks. 

And suddenly that crown of thorn glows brighter than all of the gold and emeralds of the earth, and the blood a deep hue, more royal than any dye. 

With broken wills, we separate from the crowd. Run, dash away anywhere. The pressure is intense. Overwhelming. 

And as Pilate pronounces his judgment, all else pauses, while Jesus remains silent. It’s as if there’s a whole other play being enacted before us, one in which Pilate is unaware of the strings that draw upon him. He speaks but no sound comes forward. As if in slow motion a separation, the crowd, Pilate, and the scene are but surreal shadows of the true drama. Not paying any attention to the kangaroo court before which he stands, Jesus, instead, turns his eyes and his heart to follow after you. For upon that dais he stands, not to defend himself, but as true victor and true King. Our eyes finally see.

Glory upon glory we fall, and weep as Peter wept. Salvation. 

The dark pall that covers the earth trembles in its final convulsions. Those whose eyes it continues to blind continue in their perverse reveries. But Jesus, with consequence, moves his gaze from you, to him who he came to destroy. Him whose lies besot humankind, enslaving it to himself. Who troubled the gentle rest of the garden. Who tickled the ears of our first father and our first mother with his silver tongue. 

Serpent. The King declares. Your time has come. For you, and your children. 

For judgment has come. 

Then their whole assembly rose up and brought him before Pilate. They began to accuse him, saying, “We found this man misleading our nation, opposing payment of taxes to Caesar, and saying that he himself is the Messiah, a king.”

So Pilate asked him, “Are you the king of the Jews?”

He answered him, “You say so.”

Pilate then told the chief priests and the crowds, “I find no grounds for charging this man.”

But they kept insisting, “He stirs up the people, teaching throughout all Judea, from Galilee where he started even to here.”

When Pilate heard this, he asked if the man was a Galilean. Finding that he was under Herod’s jurisdiction, he sent him to Herod, who was also in Jerusalem during those days. Herod was very glad to see Jesus; for a long time he had wanted to see him because he had heard about him and was hoping to see some miracle performed by him. So he kept asking him questions, but Jesus did not answer him. The chief priests and the scribes stood by, vehemently accusing him. Then Herod, with his soldiers, treated him with contempt, mocked him, dressed him in bright clothing, and sent him back to Pilate. That very day Herod and Pilate became friends. Previously, they had been enemies. — Luke 23:1-12 (CSB)

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“What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun.”

Ecclesiastes 1:9 (CSB)

That’s what I think when I read this text. People have not changed at all, and our response to people we disagree with continues to be similar. How easily are you able to scroll past that baiting Facebook post? How easily can you listen to someone with differing political views talk about them without cringing? What about systems or countries? How do we feel about Communism? Capitalism? China? Russia? In a way, the world is a war of ideas … empires of truth. When our truth is challenged, especially that which is close to us, and impacts us dearly, we fight to maintain control. These all might be theories to you, but when they affect your pocketbook, or your family, or your life they matter. Some ideas we are willing to fight for. Die for.  

And we see Jesus is bringing a different kind of truth than those already waging war within the world. Full truth — the very essence of Creation made incarnate. As he stands before Pilate in John’s Gospel, the Gospel author is trying to highlight the reality of this. In that text, Jesus’ response is somewhat different. Rather than the curt response, he suggests: 

“You say that I’m a king,” Jesus replied. “I was born for this, and I have come into the world for this: to testify to the truth. Everyone who is of the truth listens to my voice.”

“What is truth?” said Pilate. John 18:37-38 (CSB)

This truth was a threat to the system as he called into question the very ideas that held it together. The response? Stop him! Of course, the two vassal powers cared little about him since it had no impact on them. Rome allowed the Jewish people to largely govern themselves. Herod found neither threat nor entertainment out of this Jesus fellow, so both were uninterested. That’s not to say that either was guiltless. After not finding Jesus amusing, Herod makes his own amusement of him, entertaining him with mockery and derision. It shows the nature of Herod’s heart that he was willing to belittle another for his own pleasure. Pilate refuses to stop what he sincerely knows is a farce. Several times he neglects his duty and abuses his authority by not shutting it down. 

These three caricatures continue to display themselves within the hearts of men. 

The desire to use threat or violence to control another, being entertained by the humiliation of another, and not using authority to help someone are all grave sins.

But those who are deeply rooted in the truth of their worldviews that they sought his death, that’s where scripture says the full blame lay (Matthew 27:24-25). Those who benefited from it were ironically the ones who were assigned to watch out for God. They were to show the world God. This brings us back to several of Jesus’ parables, particularly the Parable of the Vineyard Owner (Matthew 21:33-46) Scripture is also clear that we belong in that crowd. It is not Pilate or Herod, but those who would crucify God to avoid responsibility and change. All of us.

Jesus’ response to the violence opposing him is of course telling. This is a different type of truth than one the world is used to dealing with. It’s not retributive. It’s not punishing. It’s not angry. It doesn’t use power, but it faces all the opposition of the world head on. The result of what this truth comes to bear up and tear down will be visible in the coming days. 

Tellingly, we see that Jesus’ never responds to Pilate’s question, “What is Truth?” with words. He shows him with the actions of His Passion, where ultimately, upon the cross, he will look evil in the eye and declares, “I Am”. 

While Peter was in the courtyard below, one of the high priest’s maidservants came. When she saw Peter warming himself, she looked at him and said, “You also were with Jesus, the man from Nazareth.”

But he denied it: “I don’t know or understand what you’re talking about.” Then he went out to the entryway, and a rooster crowed.

When the maidservant saw him again, she began to tell those standing nearby, “This man is one of them.”

But again he denied it. After a little while those standing there said to Peter again, “You certainly are one of them, since you’re also a Galilean.”

Then he started to curse and swear, “I don’t know this man you’re talking about!”

Immediately a rooster crowed a second time, and Peter remembered when Jesus had spoken the word to him, “Before the rooster crows twice, you will deny me three times.” And he broke down and wept.  Mark 14:66-72 (CSB)

I feel for this image, so so much. I was told recently by a spiritual counselor that one of the primary types of people that he sees are individuals who were raised in tightly controlled or legalistic spiritual environments. Notice the difference between a legalistic parent, and how Jesus approached Peter. Jesus didn’t even bring up the fact that Peter would betray him until Peter boldly proclaimed that he would never abandon Jesus. Jesus’ approach wasn’t chastisement, it was truth telling and, as importantly, drawing in meekness (https://joy-project.org/2025/04/09/peter-and-judas/). Peter thought that he would win favor with his fervor and devotion. Jesus prefers honesty and humility. It’s not the devotion of Peter at all, in the end, but rather Jesus’ devotion to him that is worth anything.

Peter failed. But he failed, something Jesus never expected of him — to be perfect. I imagine this a breaking point of sorts for Peter’s pride, the moment he recognizes his failure he weeps. But it’s his failure. A failure of his own expectation. Luke’s text tells us that the moment he fails Jesus looks at him (Luke 22:61). Again, not shame, except that which Peter applies to himself. Rather, it’s truth. A mirror, showing Peter himself. 

In a way, that’s what judgment is. A mirror that points out who we really are. Not who we think we are, or who we want to be, but who we are. Most turn away in shame, or embarrassment, but Jesus responds with truth, and love as we will see later in John’s Gospel (Chapter 21) And this is the moment Peter truly begins to become the Rock that Jesus says he will be (Matthew 16:18). Peter was always insightful, being the first to see Jesus for who he really was (Matthew 16:16). And now that insightfulness saw himself for who he really was—a crack in the defiance—allowing Jesus to finally being to work with him.

Peter’s sudden self awareness is rather like an addict finally being able to recognize their addiction. Like an addict, the root is rarely the presenting issue, but deep expectations and brokeness that lies within. It’s never about the alcohol, or the drugs, but the thing that leads an addict to that place. The first step is seeing yourself for who you really are. But the twelve steps of Recovery are not just for addicts, bur rather they are basic Christian living that has been adapted, intentionally, for people in dire circumstances. Following his self admittance, Peter would fully recognize each of these steps in his own life would you ask him, as would any other Christian regularly practicing their walk with Christ. Just like Christ, they are both merciful and honest, drawing someone deeper into the love of him, but yet not allowing them to hide from the truth of who they are.

Following 1. Self admittance, the rest are:
2. Turn from trusting yourself to trusting Jesus.  
3. Turn your life over to Jesus.  
4. Begin to take personal moral inventories. 
5. Confess your inadequacies, to self, God, and someone else. 
6. Be prepared to change. 
7. Seek higher power to remove weaknesses
8. Make a list of everyone you have ever wronged, 
9. Reach out to everyone on the list and make it right, if it doesn’t do them further damage (Ammends). 
10. Return to Self reflection and be quick to admit errors in the future (responsibility)
11. Regularly seek connection with God through prayer, meditation, and worship  
12. Use what you’ve learned to help others achieve the same. 

The steps of this program show us a love that is transformational, yet merciful. It is not legalistic, but it is truthful. It is unafraid to look at self and accept responsibility, and also unafraid to trust, surrender, and seek transformation from God. 

Peter denied Christ and realized it. It was his first step. Are you ready for your own? 

(Image of the yard outside Caiaphas’ House)

Those who had arrested Jesus led him away to Caiaphas the high priest, where the scribes and the elders had convened. Peter was following him at a distance right to the high priest’s courtyard. He went in and was sitting with the servants to see the outcome.

The chief priests and the whole Sanhedrin were looking for false testimony against Jesus so that they could put him to death, but they could not find any, even though many false witnesses came forward. Finally, two who came forward stated, “This man said, ‘I can destroy the temple of God and rebuild it in three days.’”

The high priest stood up and said to him, “Don’t you have an answer to what these men are testifying against you?” But Jesus kept silent. The high priest said to him, “I charge you under oath by the living God: Tell us if you are the Messiah, the Son of God.”

“You have said it,” Jesus told him. “But I tell you, in the future you will see the Son of Man seated at the right hand of Power and coming on the clouds of heaven.”

Then the high priest tore his robes and said, “He has blasphemed! Why do we still need witnesses? See, now you’ve heard the blasphemy. What is your decision?”

They answered, “He deserves death!” Then they spat in his face and beat him; others slapped him and said, “Prophesy to us, Messiah! Who was it that hit you?” Matthew 26:57-68  (CSB)

I’ve been to Caiaphas’ house, and into the dungeon in which Jesus was likely held. It’s really just a pit hewn out of rock. In Jesus’ day, the prisoner was lowered up and down through a hole in the top of the pit. Currently, there is a stairwell that winds down into it, but even with that my claustrophobia won’t easily allow me to go all the way in, and only then when the exit is clear.

Imprinted into the side of the stone walls are the scratching of prisoners, presumably going crazy and trying to claw their way out of the horrific place after being thrown in, beaten and abandoned. One wonders why a priest, a man of God, would need such a place.

This is where the Passion of God starts to get very real. Fitting, since we’re one week away from Easter. 

I remember as a child hearing the story of Corrie Ten Boom, whose family were Dutch Christians that attempted to hide Jews during the holocaust. They were ultimately captured and sent to a concentration camp, where she writes about the horrific things she both witnessed and experienced, including the death of her father and sister. 

Evil makes us uncomfortable in modern day America. We don’t like the sound of it. We want to pretend it doesn’t exist, and squirrel it away, assuming the best in others and the world. Evil is for somewhere else or some other time. This false sense of security blinds us to the reality that many have faced, and many continue to face. Boom walked away from the concentration camp even more devout. After having seen the direst evil, she was more convinced than ever that God was the only answer. Her famous line is apropos to both environments,

There is no pit so deep that God’s love is not deeper still.

This is the word we must know when there is little else to trust in. When there is little hope left or all seems hopeless. When there are no obvious material or political solutions, our hope must come from trusting in that. It’s the very hope that bore Jesus through the coming days, beginning with this dark one.

On a lectern, in the pit of this miserable dungeon, there is an old worn psalm that pilgrims read aloud, listening to the echos of their voices hauntingly dancing through the space. Hearing what we believe Jesus might have recited to maintain his own hope, when evil seemed about to win the day. 

Printed here for your reflection: 

88   Domine, Deus

1   O Lord, my God, my Savior, *
by day and night I cry to you.

2   Let my prayer enter into your presence; *
incline your ear to my lamentation.

3   For I am full of trouble; *
my life is at the brink of the grave.

4   I am counted among those who go down to the Pit; *
I have become like one who has no strength;

5   Lost among the dead, *
like the slain who lie in the grave,

 6   Whom you remember no more, *
for they are cut off from your hand.

7   You have laid me in the depths of the Pit, *
in dark places, and in the abyss.

8   Your anger weighs upon me heavily, *
and all your great waves overwhelm me.

9   You have put my friends far from me;
you have made me to be abhorred by them; *
I am in prison and cannot get free.

10 My sight has failed me because of trouble; *
Lord, I have called upon you daily;
I have stretched out my hands to you.

11 Do you work wonders for the dead? *
will those who have died stand up and give you thanks?

12 Will your loving‑kindness be declared in the grave? *
your faithfulness in the land of destruction?

13 Will your wonders be known in the dark? *
or your righteousness in the country where all is forgotten?

14 But as for me, O Lord, I cry to you for help; *
in the morning my prayer comes before you.

15 Lord, why have you rejected me? *
why have you hidden your face from me?

16 Ever since my youth, I have been wretched and at the point of death; *
I have borne your terrors with a troubled mind.

17 Your blazing anger has swept over me; *
your terrors have destroyed me;

18 They surround me all day long like a flood; *
they encompass me on every side.

19 My friend and my neighbor you have put away from me, *
and darkness is my only companion. (Book of Common Prayer 711)

After Jesus had said these things, he went out with his disciples across the Kidron Valley, where there was a garden, and he and his disciples went into it. Judas, who betrayed him, also knew the place, because Jesus often met there with his disciples. So Judas took a company of soldiers and some officials from the chief priests and the Pharisees and came there with lanterns, torches, and weapons.

Then Jesus, knowing everything that was about to happen to him, went out and said to them, “Who is it that you’re seeking?”

“Jesus of Nazareth,” they answered.

“I am he,” Jesus told them.

Judas, who betrayed him, was also standing with them. When Jesus told them, “I am he,” they stepped back and fell to the ground.

Then he asked them again, “Who is it that you’re seeking?”

“Jesus of Nazareth,” they said.

“I told you I am he,” Jesus replied. “So if you’re looking for me, let these men go.” This was to fulfill the words he had said: “I have not lost one of those you have given me.”

Then Simon Peter, who had a sword, drew it, struck the high priest’s servant, and cut off his right ear. (The servant’s name was Malchus.)

At that, Jesus said to Peter, “Put your sword away! Am I not to drink the cup the Father has given me?” John 18:1-11 (CSB)

Pay close attention to the “I Am” statements within this text. What happens after Jesus says it? 

John knew what he was saying, and is intentionally connecting Jesus to Yahweh, and paralleling this garden experience to both Eden and Moses’ encounter with the burning bush. John connects it throughout the Gospel, with his gospel even referencing Christ as existing with God and as God before time, rewriting the Creation story in Genesis. 

This time, when we experience Yahweh, it is not as a friend and companion, like he is in Eden, nor is he seen with reverence and fear as Moses did, who would remove his shoes to tread lightly. Rather this is betrayal. Even then, at the sound of the Holy Name, the guards can’t help but to fall backward. It’s just that reverend. 

Think for a moment of yesterday’s text, with Jesus talking to the Father. Contrast it as well to Adam in the Garden with God. The full communion that existed has come back. Jesus is the new Adam, but the one that accomplished faithfulness where the first Adam failed and brought about the curse. In this garden, however, it is not God who will kick humans out, but humans who will attempt to kick God out. Out of our own exile! Even here, in our sorrow, where we were sent to reflect and become humble, we dare confront the very Creator of the universe and chasten him with trespassing on our territory. This is not just betrayal, it’s a sad, blasphemous tragedy, with the main players unable to see the irony of their actions. Like children grounded in their room, attempting to kick the parent out who has come to tell them they are welcome back out. 

And look at Jesus’ response. Tempered. Sorrowful, and resigned. How sad, he must be thinking, that they don’t know it doesn’t have to be like this! Instead of fighting, as Peter wants to, he merely hands himself over. If he wanted to he could send armies of Angels (Matthew 26:53)! But this is not God’s way. It’s not the way of love. 

Don’t think it was for nothing. I wonder how many of the guards went home changed. I wonder how many who tortured, or brutalized him, were converted, let alone the many billions who would hear the story. The actor Pietro Sarubbi has attested that even when he looked at Jim Cavizel’s suffering character playing Jesus in Mel Gibson’s “The Passion of the Christ” he felt an electric shock run through him that led him to faith. 

Love will never come at gunpoint.
Love can never be bought.
Love can never be coerced, or manipulated.
Love can never abuse.
Love will not insist. 

Love must wait, until it is welcomed. Until it is wanted. Until then, it will endure what it must, to patiently await all who will finally see. 

Then Jesus came with them to a place called Gethsemane, and he told the disciples, “Sit here while I go over there and pray.” Taking along Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, he began to be sorrowful and troubled. He said to them, “I am deeply grieved to the point of death. Remain here and stay awake with me.” Going a little farther, he fell facedown and prayed, “My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.”

Then he came to the disciples and found them sleeping. He asked Peter, “So, couldn’t you stay awake with me one hour? Stay awake and pray, so that you won’t enter into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.”

Again, a second time, he went away and prayed, “My Father, if this cannot pass unless I drink it, your will be done.” And he came again and found them sleeping, because they could not keep their eyes open.

After leaving them, he went away again and prayed a third time, saying the same thing once more. Then he came to the disciples and said to them, “Are you still sleeping and resting? See, the time is near. The Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. Get up; let’s go. See, my betrayer is near.” Matthew 26:36-46 (CSB)

Think about this for a moment: The Lord of the universe, through whom and for whom all of creation came to be, didn’t want to do something. He was, in fact, desperate to not do something, if it fit within the will of the Father. 

Two things strike me prominently about this.

Firstly, the hard thing that he was expected to do doesn’t fall within the ordered nature of the universe, but is a byproduct of its disordered state. That to say that death, sacrifice, murder, haunting cruelty and betrayal are not a part of the design of the cosmos, for the creator himself didn’t want to face it. The reality of this is that we must have far more mercy on ourselves for the struggles and difficulties we face in our everyday lives, as they are not normal ordered realities. God himself doesn’t want to face them. Don’t make fun of someone who doesn’t deal with loss well, or who has not finalized grief. Don’t minimize someone who doesn’t love conflict. Their tender hearts are shared with the tender heart of our creator, who doesn’t want to fight us. 

It is us who want to fight him. 

Secondly, and equally importantly, imagine the nature of the Trinity that Jesus is fully open about his vulnerabilities. He already knows what he must face, but he has no issue confessing that he doesn’t want to. In a) recognizing and b) confessing he is addressing the disparity within himself, and seeking solace from the relational nature of the Godhead. God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Spirit, ever in communion with itself, encourages, and satisfies itself in its own love. As God is love, and that love is fully satisfied by God’s self, any action he does for us is not in necessity but out of generosity. God doesn’t need our love as it is, by nature, satisfied. He doesn’t need our response. He wants it, and is inviting us into the very same dynamic that fully satisfies Jesus in this moment. That to say that the same communion is as available for us as it was for him through the Holy Spirit. When we face our own trials and temptations, the availability to communicate both discomfort and desire are not something God needs, but something for which he pleads us to share with him. Not so that he can remove them, but that he might share their burden with us. That our God might suffer as we do, and might redeem the suffering for the purposes of love. 

When we also a) recognize and b) confess, we are being honest and truthful with ourselves, and with God (as Jesus was), and that honesty is the very heart of the communion which draws us deeper into himself. But not just in mourning or difficulty, also with joy, anticipation, anxiety, fear, happiness, and pleasure. To share these with the Father through the Holy Spirit is to communicate a prayer of worship with our very lives. Our whole bodies, our souls, become temples for him in whatever we do, because we lift it all up to him, that he might share in it with us, and use us to share himself with others. 

(Photo from the Garden of Gethsemane)

When he had left, Jesus said, “Now the Son of Man is glorified, and God is glorified in him. If God is glorified in him, God will also glorify him in himself and will glorify him at once. Little children, I am with you a little while longer. You will look for me, and just as I told the Jews, so now I tell you, ‘Where I am going, you cannot come.’

“I give you a new command: Love one another. Just as I have loved you, you are also to love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”

“Lord,” Simon Peter said to him, “where are you going?”

Jesus answered, “Where I am going you cannot follow me now, but you will follow later.”

“Lord,” Peter asked, “why can’t I follow you now? I will lay down my life for you.”

Jesus replied, “Will you lay down your life for me? Truly I tell you, a rooster will not crow until you have denied me three times. John 13:31-38 (CSB) 

In the end, they all abandon him regardless of what they say they will do(Matthew 26:56 referencing Zechariah 13:7). In this way, Peter is not all that different from Judas. Judas betrays Jesus for some silver, but Peter does so to save his own hide. What’s the difference? 

I wonder, perhaps, if this is the Gospel. The Good News. We know what we must and should do. Love one another and love God as Jesus lays out multiple times. I hope that this has registered with us by now. We know the secret to a happy and good life. We know what it looks like to be faithful. But the truth is, we’re terrible at it. Downright awful. Even those closest to Jesus, those he knew best, and spent time forming and shaping, leave him. One outright betraying, and eleven running away and hiding. So much for Jesus as a mere example for how we should live as some churches portray him. If it was just that, he failed at his own mission with his own disciples. The incarnational experience would have been a colossal waste of time and effort. 

But in this story, we see two responses to the Gospel. The first, Judas, gave into the god of greed and envy, allowing it to consume and corrupt him. Satan’s lies about who Jesus was infiltrated Judas so deeply, that after the betrayal he finds the ends (or product) of sin which is death by hanging himself (Matthew 27:3-5). Quite grotesquely at that (Acts 1:18-19). He obviously had a twinge of conscience, but that conscience, instead of leading to repentance, leads to self-destruction and self-loathing. Satan was satisfied, I’m sure, completing the separation between God and man, and destroying the man in the process. In what I know about Jesus, there is not one small part of me, not the least bit of doubt, that had Judas brought that shame, even to the foot of the cross, fully seeing the implication of his betrayal, that Jesus would have redeemed him even then as he does for those who actually crucify him (Luke 23:34). Judas’ destruction was not his betrayal, as bad as that was, but his attempt to hide from his condition and solve it himself using death as an escape. If he had even just waited. Just hid, as Peter did, I wonder if the experience would have been different. 

For Peter also had the same twinge of guilt. The same twinge we all have when we are doing something we know isn’t right. And, just like Judas, he didn’t do anything about it. There was no confession at the foot of the cross for Peter either. But, unlike Judas, he does not allow his sorrow to lead to despair. Unlike Judas, he did not run away from Jesus, but ran towards him (Luke 24:12). Unlike Judas, he didn’t try to hide from his shame, meaning there was still hope and faith. And it would be that hope and faith that saved him, as Jesus revealed himself to Peter several times, most promisingly in perhaps the most beautiful image in all scripture (IMHO) when Jesus invites Peter back into full communion by cooking him breakfast on the beach (John 21:15-19; Peter’s Primacy pictures in today’s photo).

See the Gospel is not that we’re going to love perfectly or get it right. Nor is it that we shouldn’t bother trying. It is that, even in our worst and most shameful failure, the Lord is always inviting us back into communion with himself. It is his Grace, that operates through our faith, like it did with Peter(Ephesians 2:8-9) He doesn’t dismiss the betrayal, but neither does he hold it against us. He heals it. In fact, in the final scene, which we won’t touch in this series, it is not Jesus who withholds full communion from Peter, but the lingering shame of Peter that will not allow Peter to fully accept Christ’s love. How often that is the case with ourselves. So when people will later come to Peter and ask what they must do to be saved, he tells them, repent, and be baptized, and you will receive the Holy Spirit (New life — Acts 2:38). Don’t let your sin destroy you, consume you, or separate you from God. Don’t run away from it and him out of shame or stubborn pride, but bring it to him,  confess it, that he might heal it, and draw you further and further into his loving embrace. Allow his Grace to heal you.

Before the Passover Festival, Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.

Now when it was time for supper, the devil had already put it into the heart of Judas, Simon Iscariot’s son, to betray him. Jesus knew that the Father had given everything into his hands, that he had come from God, and that he was going back to God. So he got up from supper, laid aside his outer clothing, took a towel, and tied it around himself. Next, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet and to dry them with the towel tied around him.

He came to Simon Peter, who asked him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?”

Jesus answered him, “What I’m doing you don’t realize now, but afterward you will understand.”

“You will never wash my feet,” Peter said.

Jesus replied, “If I don’t wash you, you have no part with me.”

Simon Peter said to him, “Lord, not only my feet, but also my hands and my head.”

“One who has bathed,” Jesus told him, “doesn’t need to wash anything except his feet, but he is completely clean. You are clean, but not all of you.” For he knew who would betray him. This is why he said, “Not all of you are clean.”

When Jesus had washed their feet and put on his outer clothing, he reclined again and said to them, “Do you know what I have done for you? You call me Teacher and Lord—and you are speaking rightly, since that is what I am. So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have given you an example, that you also should do just as I have done for you.

“Truly I tell you, a servant is not greater than his master, and a messenger is not greater than the one who sent him. If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them. John 13:1-17 (CSB)

At the end of their supper together, the disciples immediately jump to arguing about who is the greatest amongst themselves. I wish life has changed amongst Christians, but it continues to be a competitive industry. Many clergy conferences contain passive-aggressive small talk about clergy ego issues like number of baptisms, or church size and budget. Many churches claim they are the only true way and the only true disciples. I wish it weren’t so. You think Washington is bad, you should see an Episcopal Bishop’s election. Ughhh

If I were to guess, the same would be true in your own industries. I believe this instinct goes back to the Cain and Abel comparison, where, in looking for validation from God, we instead compare ourselves to our neighbors to see how we measure up. Statistics on wealth, success, and gratitude are all similar and show that, by and large, our comfort in each of these areas is relative to how we perceive our own status relative to our peers. It’s why Instagram and Facebook have blown mental health so far out of whack. What we used to compare to those within our relatively small networks, we are now able to look all over the world to see our relative status. You may have been relatively well off in your small town, but there is always someone far richer in the world. And professional influencers profit on creating a manicured look for the very things that evoke emotional response from us, while the algorithm sells more ads if it can point those towards you. It doesn’t care if that feeling is joy, or sorrow, anger, or happiness, with the exception that it is far easier to make someone angry and jealous, than content and happy. In short, as I heard it said, that while we used to metaphorically(!) see into our neighbors windows as we walked by on occasion, and we could compare ourselves relative to a small grouping, we now are able to see in the windows of nearly everyone in the world at any point. And the windows we see have professionals manicuring every inch of that space. 

If you want to be happy, firstly delete social media and turn the TV off. Period. There is no study that suggests it helps our mental and emotional well-being at all. Quite the opposite. Don’t even read anything more until that is done.(I did it after someone used social media to try to guilt my dying grandma into thinking that I was in trouble in an attempt to defraud her.). But secondly, and this is vital, we have to reverse the curse that led to the insecurity of Cain, and that which is innate within all humans. Where Adam said to God, “I think I can quite manage on my own thank you,” thus severing the relationship, Jesus responds to the same temptation in the desert with, “Don’t you know that while man needs bread, he needs the Words of God in his life even more!” (Matthew 4:4) We’re designed for that connection. 

When it comes to the final judgment, I’m going to point to Jesus for my hope. But, at this moment, we see him attempting to lead us towards the unbroken and unalienated future, by leading us back to what it looks like to be human. And, like a true leader, he doesn’t do so merely with words, but by leading with example. With all the disciples fussing over their egos, Jesus quietly gets down on his knees, and grabs a towel and some water, and begins to wash their feet. 

I suppose this image is somewhat lost in a nation with socks, tennis shoes, and pedicures, but feet are gross. Really gross. And sandaled feet that have crossed mud, animal waste, dirt and long distances in a hot climate are even grosser. Only the lowest of the low would be obligated to clean feet in a setting like this. Peter’s little tussle with Jesus is an image of our own ego learning to surrender to the voice of the Spirit within us.

No way Jesus! You don’t have to do that! 
Yes I do. 
Then wash all of me, because I want to be the best at being cleaned. 
No Peter. You still don’t understand what I’m doing. I’m going to do this for you, and I want you to be like this for others. Because if I’m like this for you, and you call me Lord, how much more must you be like this with others. 

You can almost hear the plea of Jesus, desperate for them, for us, to see: This is what it looks like to be a real human being. When you wash feet, you are no longer comparing ourselves to others. You are not competing with your ego, or leering with lust. You are not sizing up greedy opportunities, but you are serving and loving in the most basic way. If you want to be my servant, Jesus says, you must do as I do. If you want to live, let me show you what life looks like.