We pick up the story on Thursday night of Holy week. Jesus has just had a memorable meal with his disciples, one where he unfolds to them them what was to come, and explains how they are going to remember what he's about to do. An action that was started at that moment has continued down through the millennia to today, where we still often celebrate and remember what happened there at our very own dinner table at the front of our church and in churches all over the world, many miles and many years from that first dinner table.
After the dinner, as many of us like to do after filling our stomachs, Jesus headed out to a Garden nearby for a walk and talk with his friends. While there, he decided he wanted some time alone to pray, and separated himself from the group spending some time along with the Father. He struggled through prayer, worried about what was to come, but willing.
After returning from prayer, in a whirlwind of activity, Jesus was betrayed by one of his closest followers, and taken into the custody of the high priests.
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One of Jesus' closest followers and friends followed him and the crowd as he was being taken away, sneaking into the courtyard of the high priest where he was being held. It was a cold night, so Peter huddled as close as he dared to the fire, too cold to stay away, but afraid that someone would recognize him as one of the friends and followers of the man who was just arrested. His fears were not without warrant, and a woman pointed at him from across the fire, saying she recognized his face from the group of people with whom Jesus was associated. Peter was quick to deny this connection, but with his very words, his accent gave him away… all heads now turned to look more closely at the man with the Galilean accent who looked oddly like the same Galilean who followed Jesus. Again, his words denied his Lord. More accusations followed, and Peter with sheer fear swore that he did not know the man. At that point, a cockerel started to crow on the other side of the yard, and Peter remembered the words of Jesus that he would deny him three times before the night was out. Words that he had vehemently rejected at the time, never expecting in a million years to have become truth within a matter of hours.
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Meanwhile, indoors, mere metres away from where Peter denied Him, Jesus sat awaiting trial. Before 24 hours had passed, he would have been juggled from judge to judge, between kings and rulers, trying to make sense of why the Jewish aristocracy so desperately wanted this so called "miracle-worker" dead. There was no evidence to support the accusations that were being hurled at him, at least no evidence that was standing up under any scrutiny…and so he was juggled around, until he landed once again at the feet of Pilate. The people were offered an ultimatum. Free Jesus, or a murderer. The people, whipped up into a state of frenzy by the Jewish leaders, chose the murderer to go free, and the One who had never done anything wrong, was sent to be measured for a cross.
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A cross was put upon Jesus and he was forced to carry it to it's resting place. He struggled through the narrow winding streets of Jerusalem as people looked on, jeering and spitting upon his crushed and whipped body. He collapses, and a man, by the name of Joseph is pulled out of the crowd to take the cross upon himself, to help Jesus in his greatest hour of need. Step by step, side by side, they walked towards the hill where Jesus was going to be crucified.
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On that hill, they put Jesus on the cross, and on that cross, Jesus breathed His last. The breath of God was extinguished for us. An incredible image, that the God who created the universe, who set the stars in their place and dug the furrows and pits of the oceans before filling them with water, hung on a cross for one purpose, for us. There was nothing in it for Him, that is the definition of a sacrifice. But on that hill, God died, and He did all that out of love.
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And for this day. That is where the story ends.
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