“We Were There”  Judas
John 18:1-11
St. John’s, Bradford
April 12, 2001 (Maundy Thursday)

	Wrong!  This is all wrong!   You Pharisees got it all wrong!  He was supposed to lead our revolution, bring about our salvation from these Gentiles.  He was to be the spark, the catalyst.  He was the man, the Messiah!  We were ready—the people were ready!  That angry crowd in the garden, Peter had his sword out in an instant.  Took an ear, Peter did!  Took an ear…
	But he rebuked them.  “No more of this!” he called…and the others listened.  Our moment had finally arrived; a little blood, a little persuasion, and the crowds would have turned, followed him to a new world.  But he stopped them, even healed that dog’s ear.  Then he asked, “Am I leading a rebellion?”  “Yes!” I wanted to shout.  “Yes!  Again and again you’ve told us so.  Now act on it!”  But instead he surrendered meekly.
	And we, we twelve, fled.
	Again and again.  How many times had he told us he had come to free us?  How many?  “’He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners,’” he read in the temple, and then he declared, “Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”  But the Romans are still here.  The nations press upon us.  We are not free!  He is a son of David—how often did he say he would rebuild his Father’s kingdom?  Imagine!  Our boundaries stretching to those set by Solomon, our land free of outsiders.  Once again, a promised land flowing with milk and honey.
	But again and again he missed the moment.
	Not four days ago he mounted a colt, as it was prophesied.  He rode into the city, as it was prophesied.  The crowds shouted to him:  “Hosanna!  Hosanna to the Son of David!  Hosanna in the highest!”  They all knew the signs.  They knew the Scripture.  “Hosanna!” they called, “Save us!  Save us!”  And you leaders, you Pharisees, you knew too:  “Teacher, rebuke your disciples!” you called, terrified of Roman wrath.  But he knew where we stood:  “I tell you,” he answered, “if they keep quiet, the very stones will cry out.”  Yes!  At last!  At last we were on the path to freedom.
	But then—again—he faltered.  We were on the path to the temple’s east gate, the gate everyone knows our Messiah will come through.  The crowd, frenzied, urged him to act on his claims and fulfill the prophecy.  They deafened us with their shouts of “Save us!”  But he, he rode past the east gate without so much as a glance and stopped instead at the northern gate—a gate defiled by sheep’s dung and the stench of death.  Only death comes from the north.  Only sacrifices pass through that door—only meek lambs being led to the slaughter.
	And tonight.  We gathered for the Passover and our “king”, our “Son of David,” our “Messiah” stripped, wrapped a towel around his waist, and washed our feet.  What sort of king plays at being a servant?  What sort of Saviour kneels before his disciples and washes the filth from their feet?  Again and again he missed the moment, but it was then, when I saw him groveling before us, that I realized I must act.  I—We needed to know if he was the Messiah.  If he refused, well then I would force the issue.  I would spark the revolution, and we would see if we had offered our faith foolishly.
	It was easy enough.  You Pharisees were looking for a way to bring him down; we all knew that.  A word in the right ear, a plan whispered discreetly, and you thought you had eliminated a problem while I, I knew I had started something bigger than any of us could imagine.  And to think!  (Laugh and pull out money bag)  To think you hypocritical fools paid thirty pieces of silver to start the revolution you so fear!  You Pharisees are the first to fill our coffers!
	But it all went wrong.  There is no revolt.  He has been “eliminated”…or will be soon.  You!  You have condemned him to die.  Through my word, my kiss, you have caught, tried, and condemned him.  He knew, you knew.  He knew what I planned!  I don’t know how, I don’t know how he learned, but at supper he told us all that one would betray him—a strong word, but I thought then that he understood.  After all, he handed me the bread dipped in wine.  He must have understood my plan, he must have known the test before him, he must have!  So why didn’t he act?  Why?
	And now he is condemned.  You!  You condemn—no, it was I.  
	O Almighty King in Heaven, what have I done?  He’s just a man, an innocent man!  And instead of rebellion, I have his blood on my hands.  Instead of Messiah, thirty pieces of silver.  They are no use now.  What good is a revolution without a leader?  He can’t save us from the grave.
	Oh, I have sinned.  Betrayal he called it?  Yes, betrayal and blood for thirty pieces of silver.