You know, this just about sums up why you never really made it. Honestly, riding into town on a jackass! Your antagonists must have gone nuts with snide comments seeing this. Don Quixote got his inspiration from you, right? Jesus, delusional doesn’t even hint at what you were thinking. Let your crowds get silly over you. They’ll learn soon enough where you’re headed. Don’t expect them to cheer for you then. They’ll turn faster than a dizzy skater in a spin.

Crowds were everywhere, and if you hadn’t heard about him before, this week you couldn’t miss it. Before Jesus even got into town, they lined the road, spreading a carpet of coats, waving branches and shouting, Hosanna, ironically meaning, “Save us now!” Expectations were high. If only he had come to fulfill them.

All accounts record it. It must have been quite the procession. Everyone came out to see the spectacle of Jesus riding into Jerusalem on a jittery donkey, not a battle-strong stallion. People spread their coats on the ground, and the road was strewn with leafy branches, all to make the ride smoother and keep down the dust. Clamorous voices called him a king, the one who would establish a new kingdom on the level of their greatest hero, King David. Best yet, he came “in the name of the Lord,” fulfilling what the ancient prophets had promised. Not lost on anyone was the celebration of Passover only days away, the commemoration of the Israelite deliverance from slavery and oppression by the Egyptians. Part parade, part protest, however you see it, God was on the move and doing it again!

You’re right though to ridicule it, this parody, a caricature of royal processions for which Romans were notorious. Their hero had never called up an army or plotted overthrow of the regime. While the people thought they’d only be saved by military rebellion and nationalism, Jesus had called to turn the other cheek and love one’s enemy. Instead, he was being promoted as everything he was not. 

By Thursday, the strain was stretching him and the disciples. He had made a scene at the Temple, literally throwing out merchants who were gouging the faithful for Passover sacrifices.  He healed people right there and sparred with the lead priests over the attention he was getting and where he thought he got the right to do what he was doing. He even insinuated sinners like prostitutes would have a better chance getting into heaven before they did. Calling them hypocrites, he charged, “For you cross land and sea to make one convert, and then you turn him into twice the son of hell as you yourselves are.”

With too much popularity and too many attacks on the powers-that-be, Jesus wasn’t making it easy on himself. Sooner or later, someone was going to put a stop to this. As it was, it wasn’t only one.

The First Betrayal

Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples, has lived in infamy as the betrayer of Jesus. Sizing up the situation, he could tell the religious leaders not only wanted him out of their hair, but even more so, permanently out of the way. With the deal of 30 silver coins, he only had to seize the moment. (Matthew 26:14-16)   Jesus made it easy for him. Over the Passover meal, Jesus said, “One of you will betray me.” While Judas played at acting as a faithful follower, Jesus let him know he knew what Judas would do. From there, it was only a matter of a kiss to identify Jesus as the one the mob should drag away. 

His Closest Betrayer

But Judas wasn’t the only one. Jesus also told the twelve, “Tonight, all of you will desert me.” Not being one to show himself by deed rather than declaration, Peter insists he never will. As he had been clear to Judas, Jesus was now just as forthright with Peter. “The truth is, this very night, before the rooster crows, you will deny me three times.”   

Before sunrise, while the kangaroo court assembled by the high priests were condemning him, Peter’s words were, “I swear by God, I don’t know the man.” 

Was he denying that he had followed Jesus, or that the Jesus he followed was not the leader he thought Jesus would be?

An Unholy Alliance

Pilate, a Roman governor, was tasked with keeping Jerusalem and the Jews under control. The system allowed for them to have their religion as long as the Romans had a say in leadership. Ultimately, though the religious authorities wanted Jesus dead, they were not permitted to execute offenders of the faith on their own. While that morning Judas hanged himself in remorse after realizing where this was headed, and Peter along with the rest of the disciples abandoned him, Jesus was dragged in front of Pilate by the leading priests with charges he claimed to be King of the Jews, an indication he would overthrow the Roman government.

Pilate is caught in the middle. He can’t ignore such a charge, but he seems to have a handle on what these Temple tetrarchs were scheming. Seemingly looking for a way out, he urges Jesus to make a defense, but he won’t talk. It’s not what his accusers say, but rather the way they say it. They had been looking for a Messiah, but they didn’t want this Messiah. So they did what they could to do away with him. Thus, those set apart for holy office among the chosen people turned on him.

Meanwhile, Pilate tries again. He offers them a carrot. For the holy day, the Romans would release a Jewish prisoner. Figuring he could make them choose the lesser of two evils, Pilate offers the crowd either Jesus or the notorious criminal Barabbas. The priests though work the crowd to call for Barabbas’ release. Pilate can’t see what Jesus could have done that would be so bad for them, but the crowd, some of whom had likely cried Hosana earlier in the week, roars for more. “Crucify him!”

Pilate literally washes his hands of the matter as the crowd takes responsibility for Jesus’ execution. In an act of bloody mercy, Pilate orders Jesus flogged with a lead-tipped whip. It will make his death come faster. To avoid a riot and to protect his job, Pilate orders Jesus’ crucifixion.

Betrayed by Abandonment

Torture and mockery follow. More beatings, a crown of thorns, nailed through flesh and bone, Jesus is crucified, a death designed to be slow, painful, smothering as lungs collapse and blood flows. The King of the Jews has taken the cup of bitter wine, the cup of his own blood, and life oozes out.

The only faithful witnesses to his demise are the women who followed and supported him, women to whom he’d given honor and status, now rendered as impotent as he. But even they stood watching from a distance, distraught and detached at the same time. The comfort they were called to give wasn’t available to him when he needed it most.

Even the sky felt it. A weird darkness fell around noon. Three hours later, Jesus calls to heaven, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” He dies, abandoned in the will of God to take death upon himself, death that separates, rejects, leaves him alone with all that the worst of the world could do. 

Was Judas the one who betrayed Jesus? Or rather, who along with Judas deserted and betrayed him? His best friends, the leaders of his faith, the fickle crowd, the prevailing political system, the women who had anointed his feet in adoration all had a part. Most heart wrenching of all though must have been his God, the very part of himself that had set this in motion since the first animal sacrifice in that garden.

To be covered in such shame that you can’t stand yourself is how he died. It was shame that was not of his own doing, but a shame Jesus accepted for himself that isolates one from love of God and love of neighbor. In this then, he knew a hell which he wanted no one to ever know.

But what of those who won’t accept what his death meant for them?

Would this be the ultimate in betrayal?

Matthew 21:1-11, Matthew 26, Matthew 27:1-55

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