Who thought it was a good idea to get a tiny room up here for Passover? This night is so hot and thirteen sweaty men all around a table for dinner does not make for an appealing meal. I can’t shake this pounding headache and my mind is racing. I need to eat. I wish they’d all settle down. I’m tired, I need to think, and I just want to try and enjoy one of my favorite nights of the year.
I’ve always loved Passover, even when I was a child. I was mesmerized by the idea of Moses leading our people through the Red Sea after escaping the slavery in Egypt. God showed his strength through the plagues and saved our people while destroying their captors in a mighty flood of power. It’s always inspired me and that is why, even now as we labor under Roman oppression, I’ve held out hope and worked for our freedom.
I reach for some bread. I can’t stop thinking that I’m just so confused and disappointed right now. I thought Jesus would be the Messiah, but he’s changed lately. I don’t know, maybe it’s not him. Maybe it’s me. But when I first signed on for all of this, I thought our liberator had finally come. I mean, the deaf had their ears opened, the blind could see, and even the lame were dancing! Everyone was talking about Jesus and clamoring to get near him, to touch the hem of his garment. The crowds were amazing! I couldn’t believe what we were accomplishing in such a short a time. We were right on the cusp of having enough followers to make Rome stand up and take notice.
But that one day, on the hillside, Jesus ruined it all. There had to be 5000 or more people there. He fed them all from a measly five loaves and a couple of fish. They couldn’t get enough, not just of the food, but of this teacher. Then he started talking crazy. My flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink? You have to eat my flesh? Who says things like that? I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, and neither could the crowd. Over and over, he kept repeating the same thing and they started walking away. And he just let them disappear down the hill. Before we knew it, all that was left were some baskets and us. Twelve men staring at Jesus. We were so close to having it all and I know I couldn’t have been the only one confused.
I wasn’t just confused. I admit it. I’ve been angry since then. What was he doing? What was he thinking? He looked at us with those eyes that seem to pierce your soul and asked us if we were going to leave too. Honestly, the thought crossed my mind. But before I could respond, Peter, who always thinks it’s his job to speak for all of us, pipes up with, “Where would we go? You have the words of everlasting life.” I was thinking of plenty of places we could go and seriously, how are the words “eat my flesh” conveying everlasting life to anyone. In just one afternoon, he was destroying everything we had built. I don’t care how many people he cured; this was taking things too far.
But I just bit my tongue and decided to wait. Peter tends to be impulsive, always running off at the mouth. I plan. I think. I consider all the nuances. That’s when I started forming a new plan. How best to lead Jesus to a point where the Romans couldn’t ignore him anymore. Tonight is the culmination. I spoke to our leaders, and they paid me generously to bring Jesus to them. Now they can use him to get Rome off our backs and out of our country. With their leadership and Jesus’ power, there will be no stopping our people.
What are they all upset about now? The volume in the room just went up considerably.
“Amen, I say to you, one of you will betray me.”
What did he say? Why are they all talking at once?
They are all repeating, “Surely it is not I, Lord?”
I don't feel right. I can't focus. I can barely hear what Jesus is saying now.
“He who has dipped his hand into the dish with me is the one who will betray me. The Son of Man indeed goes, as it is written, but woe to that man by whom the Son of Man is betrayed. It would be better for that man if he had never been born.”
Wow, my head is pounding. How long have I been holding this bread in my hand? I lean over to dip it in the bowl. My hand brushes against something.
“Oh, sorry, Jesus. I didn’t see you reaching as well.”
Why are they all looking at me? What is going on? What am I missing? I think I was too caught up in my own thoughts. Did he just say something about betrayal? Better not to have been born? Does he know? No! He can’t! How could he? I was careful and no one saw me meet with the Pharisees.
Wait, I’m still holding this bread I just dipped. That I dipped at the same time as he did. I better play along, or all my plans might fall apart.
“Surely it’s not I, Rabbi?” His gaze travels from the bread in my shaking hand to my face. Why is he looking at me with such a mixture of sadness and pain?
“You have said so”, he says quietly.
My heart stops.
He knows.