JUDAS ISCARIOT
Matthew 26.47-50; 27.3-10

Tom Wright tells a story in his book John for Everyone that he heard from a priest in Cambridgeshire village.

Sheep are instinctive creatures who manage to sense when something is not quite right. At a particular slaughterhouse, there was something that alerted the sheep to the fact that this was not a good place for them - whether it was the smell or some other warning of danger they picked up, I don’t know, but something got to them.

When the lorry carrying them stopped and the gangplank went down, the sheep refused to move. This caused problems for the officials at the slaughterhouse, but they have found an ingenious solution to their problem.

They now keep a sheep on the premises who has become so used to the place that he isn’t bothered by it any more. They walk this sheep up the plank, on to the lorry, and down again. When the other sheep see it, one of their own leading the way, they all follow in spite of impending death.

The slaughterhouse workers have named this sheep Judas.

Judas, a friend turned enemy; one of Jesus’s intimate circle now a betrayer.

We don’t know for certain why Judas betrayed Jesus. Some suggest that he was wanting to put an end to the money that he had seen wasted, that he felt his source of income - John describes him as a thief, was threatened - greed is at the root of this suggestion.

Others think that Judas was not trying to seek Jesus’s death, only to hasten some crisis point, which might then push Jesus into becoming more powerful in bringing about his kingdom. Remember that Jewish ideas of the Messiah at the time were far from the path of servanthood that Jesus took. Maybe he killed himself because he realised that it had all got out of hand and far bigger than he had expected.

Others speculate that Isacariot comes from the words Sicarii. The sicarius, a small dagger, was used as the name for a known group of terrorists who carried such weapons concealed in their clothes and whose aim was to overthrow Rome. If Judas was one of them, the argument goes, he was probably disappointed with Jesus’s lack of action against the occupiers.

What we do know is that something changed Judas. His focus had shifted from friendship and faith in Jesus to a darker place.

The paths of our lives can change easily too depending on where our roots are. Although we all start as those made in the image of God, some of us allow that image to become distorted as we walk through life, by bitterness or greed, by envy or hatred, by shallowness or self-interest.

There is a story about Leonardo da Vinci’s painting of the Last Supper. He spent a long time looking for someone to act as a model for Christ. After a long search, he found a chorister in one of the churches in Rome who fitted perfectly with what he wanted. This man’s name was Pietro Bandinelli.

Many years passed, and da Vinci was still working on the painting. He finally reached the point where it was all finished except for one disciple - Judas. He began looking for a model - someone whose face had become hardened and distorted by sin. Eventually he came across a beggar living in the streets, a man who made him shudder even to look at.

Da Vinci hired this man, and modelled Judas on his face. When he had finished and was preparing to bid the man farewell, he became aware that he didn’t even know the man’s name.

“I am Pietro Bandinelli,” he said. “As a young man, i sat for you as your model of Christ.”

Jesus let Judas go to do his treacherous deed. He didn’t try and stop him. He doesn’t force us his love upon us either, but allows us to choose whether we respond or not.

But that love is so great that it was willing to give up life so that we might gain life, so that we might be restored in that image of God in which we were first created.

Thanks be to God.

PETER
Matthew 26.69-75

Peter’s best is never good enough.

Think of the stories of Peter that we know. Peter, impetuous and loyal ,but always failing. Peter who couldn’t walk on water. Peter who opened his mouth before thinking about what he was saying. Peter who, however hard he tried, didn’t really understand the depths of much of Jesus’s teaching.

Peter who fell asleep in the Garden of Gethsemane. Peter, who though loyal enough to follow Jesus to the high-priest’s house when the others had fled, denies that he knows Jesus when Jesus is facing real trouble.

Peter is loyal and faithful. Peter is keen to follow his Lord wherever that will take him. But when the crunch comes, as so many of us are, Peter is weak.

But Peter is also a great example of the love of Christ. In spite of the times when Peter gets it wrong, Christ still loves him and forgives him, and carries on teaching him. Peter is the one charged with leading the church once Jesus has gone. Peter is the one in whom Jesus puts his trust, in spite of Peter’s failings.

Tom Wright in Matthew for Everyone says that he suspects this story - told in all four Gospels - was included because it shows how not to do it. We know from John’s Gospel that Jesus restored Peter and forgave his denial of him but we can’t escape the fact that when it mattered, Peter got it wrong.

But we can take hope. We too like Peter get it wrong. We too allow our loyalty to Jesus to fade. Peter may well have feared for his life - a situation that not many of us face - but how would we respond, I wonder, if we did.

We who so often deny Jesus by our words and actions. We are too shy about talking with our friends about him or those in need. We who look the other way when confronted with someone or something we don’t like.

We, who come to church and confess our sins, and then go out and do the same things again and again and again.

There appears though to be one big difference between Peter and Judas. Peter hasn’t premeditated this denial, though it was foretold. Peter is acting out of panic and fear. His denial is not something he has planned. And afterwards he is truly repentant.

He faces the risen Jesus again, knowing what he has done. Where Judas’s cowardice leads to his death, Peter’s courage leads to his facing what he has done and his repentance brings life and restoration of his relationship with Jesus.

And, of course, here we hit the heart of the power of Easter - restoration of relationship with Jesus. That’s what our faith is about.

We have all denied Jesus. We are all instrumental in nailing him to the cross. But through repentance, we can also all share in forgiveness and restoration.

When the cock crowed, Peter recognised his brokenness and weakness. True repentance follows a recognition that we are far from the heart of God. But, however, far we go, repentance will bring us back to the heart of God.

God uses the weak and vulnerable to change the world. God used Peter to lead the Church because he was humble enough to know when he got it wrong. Because Peter knew his weaknesses, God could use him mightily.

And it’s no different for us. In fact, it’s often our points of vulnerability that God uses most effectively in his work.

This story’s inclusion in our Bible should give us hope. Hope that we don’t need to be perfect before we can be used by God.

If we were, then the Passion story and resurrection has no meaning, for we would not have needed God’s redemption.

So, rejoice in your weakness, for when we are weak, God’s strength can be seen.

CAIAPHAS
Matthew 26.59-67; 27.1-2

There’s an enormous clash of culture between Jesus and Caiaphas.

Caiaphas, respected Jewish high priest, in charge of the temple, controlling its money and police, head of the Sanhedrin, the Jewish Council. Caiaphas was appointed though not by the Jews but by the Romans, so he had to stay in with them if he wanted to retain his power. In fact, he did. Caiaphas was one of the longest serving high priests in the first century - his rule of 18 years was exceptional.

Caiaphas was the face of the Jewish religion, its human figurehead. He was a man of power, and yet also a man whose power was not on his own authority for the Romans could hire or fire him.

But Caiaphas’s power was beginning to be threatened by this odd wandering teacher. Jesus had ridden into Jerusalem, feted as king, even though his mode of transport was somewhat unkinglike. He had overturned all the tables of the moneylenders and salesmen in the temple. He attracted huge numbers of followers because of what he said and did. People loved Jesus in a way that they never would love Caiaphas.

And, of course, the reason people loved Jesus is because he loved them first. Caiaphas ruled by power; Jesus through love and service.

Caiaphas, though a religious man, had become bound up with worldly trappings. Jesus challenged all this.

And, if Jesus was going to cause problems for Caiaphas, then he had to go. Too much was at stake for the high-priest. Fear and jealousy led his reaction to Jesus.

And, although he was a religious man, he shows us the hypocrisy which was one the things that Jesus spoke out against. Caiapahas is not too concerned about whether the truth comes out; he wants only an excuse to condemn Jesus.

So he doesn’t worry too much about the fact that the witnesses are not telling the truth. His main problem is that those witnesses haven’t collaborated on the stories so that they don’t agree. Even Caiaphas can’t convict on evidence that doesn’t stand up.

And then it’s OK for Caiaphas - Jesus digs his own hole with his words - the words he quotes from Daniel chapter 7: “From now on you will see the Son of Man seated at the right hand of power and coming on the clouds of heaven.” He doesn’t deny to Caiaphas that he is the Messiah, merely says “You have said so.” Caiaphas takes this as a yes.

Being religious doesn’t mean we get it right. Caiaphas’s religion was about external things; we know only too well that Jesus is more concerned about the heart.

We live in a world where there is a very strong clash of cultures, where Christian culture is so far removed from that of the world. Though Caiaphas believed he was serving God, he was extremely off track. He’d allowed the culture of power and of money and authority, of fear about his job, get to him. He was concerned to be seen doing the right things.

How easy it is to fall into those traps, to go along with what the world says is important, and to push out the image of Christ, the servant king.

Christ ruled not through power games but through service, not through authority derived from himself but from God.
Christ was never afraid to speak out against those who had it wrong, even the religious believers.

Caiaphas had allowed his faith to be distorted in the face of pressure from the world outside which became internal pressure to conform.

So often a clash of culture leads to extreme reactions as people become threatened. Think about how different the reactions of Jesus and Caiaphas are to this culture clash. Caiaphas determines to remove the threat; Jesus carries on following his Father’s will.

It’s tough to stand out against the crowd, but it’s what we’re called to do.

PILATE
Matthew 27.11-26

Have you heard those politicians being interviewed on the radio by ebullient journalists? They become more and more vehement and more and more insistent that they are right and that everyone else is wrong, and the harder the journalist pushes the more strident and adamant they become, the less likely they are to listen to any other view but their own. All that matters is that they keep banging away at their point to hammer home to people how right they are.

What a contrast with Jesus, who when faced with Pilate’s questions, remains silent. All he says before Pilate is “You say so,” in response to the questions Are you the king of the Jews?” And after that he is silent.

He doesn’t rise to the challenge presented by the accusations made against him. He retains his dignity, however, much those around him try to remove it. So different from most people when they are questioned, who feel they must argue their case or speak louder and louder until they have been heard.

If we believe the Gospels, Pilate knows that Jesus is innocent - and yet he still condemns him. Roman Governor of the province of Judea from AD 26 for ten years, Pilate is a bully and a coward. There have been several other flashpoints with the Jews before Jesus’s trial, like Caiaphas, his job is at risk if he doesn’t keep things calm and ordered.

Pilate lived mainly in Caesarea but would come to Jerusalem for festivals when there were likely to be many more people around and the threat of unrest was greater. He felt insecure when faced with the possibility of trouble.
Unlike Jesus, who, though he was the one on trial, stayed resolute and firm, trusting in God his Father.

Pilate appears to long for Jesus to reply to the accusations against him, so that he has an excuse to release him.

That doesn’t work so he tries another tack - remembering the tradition by which he has the power to release a prisoner sometime during the Passover Festival. Which Jesus do you want, he asks - this one or that one. Jesus called Barabbas, (Barabbas means son of the father) or Jesus who is called the Messiah (the true Son of the Father).

His plan doesn’t work. The crowd bay for the blood of the innocent Jesus and call for the murderer’s freedom. They’ve been stirred up by others, but large crowds can be fickle friends. Only hours before they were welcoming Jesus into Jerusalem and hailing him as king.

Pilate’s still not happy - what’s he done wrong, he asks. But the crowd continue to shout for Barabbas.

So Pilate gives in to the inevitable and capitulates to the crowd, who were becoming riotous. It was more than his job was worth to ignore their wishes.

But in spite of the fact that he is the one who condemns Jesus, he then washes his hands of his act, he refuses to accept responsibility.

That’s a plague of today too. People and companies are always seeking to blame other people when things go wrong. The “it wasn’t me” syndrome can affect people of all ages and at all times. It’s sometimes fear which pushes us in that direction - certainly I remember lying as a child when I’d broken one of my father’s standard roses in half with the edge of a deck chair because I was fearful of what he might do.

Sometimes it’s not wanting to face the consequences of taking responsibility or even laziness. Whatever the motive, it’s something I’m sure we are all familiar with.

And it’s not entirely surprising that that attitude comes about because in general people are unforgiving when we make mistakes.

But it’s the complete opposite of what Jesus did. Usually the guilty blame the innocent and try to make them take the blame; here the innocent takes responsibility upon himself for things he has never done.

Barabbas was set free. The innocent man was condemned. Pilate had not intended setting a murderer free but that was the consequence of his action.

And that is the story of us all. We don’t intend to kill Jesus. But his death is our path to freedom from sin. We can’t like Pilate wash our hands of the crucifixion and say it’s got nothing to do with me.

It has something to do with all of us, because, like Barabbas, we are all set free through its power. Pilate is no less guilty because he has washed his hands

But the responsibility we have is like no other. For taking on the responsibility means not taking the rap but receiving forgiveness, not accepting some kind of punishment. What a relief!

About ten years ago, I borrowed a friend’s fairly new Land Rover Discovery. At the time, my own car was a small, old Peugeot 205 with a few dents and scratches. I was so careful with this friend’s car, but, however careful I was, I struggled to adjust to the size of it compared with the only other car I had ever driven.
And then manoeuvering out of someone else’s driveway, I scratched the paint work.

It was pure accident, but on that drive back home I was so fearful of what the penalty would be and of what the owner would say. I went over in my mind what words I would use, how I could get round it. There was no option but to be upfront and open.

And when I did pluck up the courage and tell him about his car, he didn’t scream or shout. When I showed him the scratch, he wasn’t upset. He forgave me. He didn’t even make me pay for the repainting.

I felt so free at that point. All the guilt and fear I had felt, slid off me. The matter was never mentioned again.

That is what Jesus’s death does for each one of us when we receive forgiveness. It liberates us from our guilt and fears. Alleluia!

MARY
John 19.16b-18, 23-28

Of all the people we are looking at today, Mary seems to have the roughest deal. She is the one who seems blameless as far as the events have proceeded.

Let’s think about what she has faced. The miraculous birth of her first born son, all those unusual visits from angels and so on. Those piercing words of Simeon when she took Jesus to the Temple to be dedicated - “and a sword will pierce your own heart too”. She’s followed her son around, never failing to offer him love. She’s watched as people flock to him and others become bitter enemies.

Like any mother, she will have rejoiced and agonised over her son’s actions. She will have known that deep joy and deep pain that a mother experiences when seeing her children joyful or suffering.

She has followed to the bitter end, and resolutely stands by her son, even though the pain of seeing him dying must have been so great.

But she remains, faithful to the last.

And Jesus, hanging there on the cross in absolute agony, still thinks of those who are not himself. In utter torment, he is still able to look down from the cross and to show compassion for his mother and his friend. As he leaves them, he binds them together. You will be a new family, he says.

When we suffer, compassion for the other is usually one of the first things to go. Jesus can’t take away the pain of Mary or the disciples whom he loves, but he can help them to find comfort together in their shared love of him and their shared grief.

There’s a lovely story about a little boy whose elderly neighbour had recently lost his wife. He became very depressed and the little boy was somewhat concerned about him. One day, the boy spotted his neighbour sitting outside his house looking very downcast. He hopped over the garden fence and went and sat on the old man’s lap silently.

When he arrived home later, his mother asked him what he’d been doing. He explained how he had been next door. What did you say while you were with him, asked the mother. Nothing, said the little boy, I just helped him cry.

Mary and John could do nothing else but weep together and stand united in their grief.

Jesus’s care for his mother and his friend was evident. It was so powerful it could outlast the suffering of the cross.

But that message Jesus had for them, that they were part of one family, is also for us. That compassion he showed to them is also compassion he shows to us. More than anything the message God longs to give us is that he loves us.

It was love that nailed Jesus to the tree, love for us all. It was love that allowed sin to gain the upper hand for a while, but it was love too that was stronger than death and the power of sin.

Greater love have no one than that they lay down their life for their friends.

Jesus’s love extends far beyond Mary and the disciple whom he loved. Jesus’s love, those open arms on the cross, are wide open for us. They are calling us to him, an ever welcoming posture.

When we hug someone we usually start with wide open arms before we grip them tightly.
The wide open arms say “Come to me.” The open arms of Jesus on the cross say the same thing.

JOSEPH AND NICODEMUS
John 19.38-42

So we reach the final two characters in our story: Joseph and Nicodemus.

Whatever happens the cross of Christ pushes us into a decision. We can either ignore him or openly follow.

Joseph has been a secret disciple until this point, because he is scared to do otherwise. But the death of Jesus brings him out into the open. The death of Jesus faces each and every person with the question: do you wish to follow me? It’s a question that ha+s only two possible answers - yes or no.

Jesus has harsh words for those who try to ignore making a decision - the one who is not for me is against me.

Each Holy Week, we too are faced with that question again. Do you wish to follow me?
As Joseph discovers secret following is no longer possible. The cross draws us out and towards Christ.

We know so little about Joseph. We know that he is a Jewish member of the council who has secretly been following Jesus. He is rich and he owns a tomb.

And he comes with Nicodemus, who knows what it is like to be a secret follower. His first meeting with Jesus occurs at night, suggesting that he too doesn’t want to be found out.

And in that conversation with Jesus reported by John, we have some of the most powerful words in the Bible - God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send the Son to condemn the world but in order that the world might be saved through in.

Those words could be said to sum up the heart of the Gospel, what it’s all about. But only after the resurrection was their full impact known.

Later in John’s Gospel, Nicodemus is a little more open. When a dispute is going on between the chief priests and Pharisees and the temple police, who are reluctant to arrest Jesus because they have been affected by the way he speaks, it is Nicodemus who reminds the Pharisees that the law allows an accused person to be heard before they are judged.

He hasn’t openly said that he is a follower of Jesus, but he does show himself to have an interest in him.

He too by the time Jesus has died is outed as a disciple. Perhaps now that Jesus is dead, he feels he has nothing to lose by being open. We don’t know.

But he takes a huge amount of myrrh and aloes - a hundred pounds worth for the burial, far too much for one body. The sort of amount that would normally be used only for a king.

Joseph and Nicodemus are saying more in their actions than might be seen at first glance. Under Roman law, the bodies of executed criminals were usually handed over to their families. The Jews didn’t want to contaminate family tombs with evildoers, so they had a pit outside Jerusalem in which criminals could be buried.

Joseph and Nicodemus, by giving Jesus a new tomb, are implying that he is not a criminal. The amount of spices seems to be implicitly saying they recognise him as a king.

So Jesus’s death forces them to acknowledge who they think he is.

We too are asked who is this? Jesus himself asked his disciples that same questions earlier in his ministry. Who do people say that I am? And then who do you say that I am?  Peter acknowledged then Jesus as Messiah.

The question that we too need to ponder as we remember Jesus breathing his last this Good Friday is that same one.

Who do you say that I am?