During this Holy Week 2021 I’ve been particularly aware of how far we all of us seem to fall short of the glory of God. The news is full of stories which are at best unedifying, and at worst downright disheartening. From petty squabbles over vaccines, and the over-zealous guarding of national borders, to the brutal silencing of the voices of opposition in Myanmar, Russia and Hong Kong. And I watch myself failing to do the slightest thing to intervene, eating my more-than-adequate supper in front of the TV screen as the daily horrors unfold. I’m reminded of St Paul’s rueful admission, ‘I can will what is right, but I cannot do it. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do.’ (Romans 7:18-19)

Plus ça change. Rewind to Palestine, circa 33 CE, to the events playing out in Jerusalem. Petty squabbles amongst the disciples? Tick. (Who will be greatest in the Kingdom of God? Who wanted Judas around, anyway?) The over-zealous guarding of borders? Tick. (Whose jurisdiction does Jesus fall under, Romans or Jews? Is he a rebel, or a freedom fighter?) The brutal silencing of opposition? The terror of falling into the hands of the powerful? Oh yes, absolutely. Tick, tick, tick. Why else does Peter sink further back into the shadows every time someone says, ‘You’re one of them’? Why else does that unnamed disciple wearing only a loin-cloth run from Gethsemane, leaving his linen cloth in the soldiers’ hands, risking shame rather than capture (Mark 14:51-52)?

There’s nothing new about the political wheeler-dealing over Jesus’s trial – the Jewish leaders jockeying for position, testing out the reactions of their political masters, allowing the occupying forces of Rome to take the responsibility and the blame. Nothing new about the profit motive, which tempts Judas to hand over the man he once idolized for a substantial ‘consideration’. (Perhaps it’s to Judas’s credit that unlike so many businessmen who make their fortune by clambering over the necks of the poor, he is actually horrified by what he’s done, and ends up committing suicide.)

And there’s nothing new about the response of Jesus’s friends, who deal with impending crisis by falling asleep. Are we not nearly all of us sleepwalking towards disaster (climate change; racial unease; the growing polarization of rich and poor, left and right)? ‘Keep awake, then, for you never know the day nor the hour’, warns Jesus (Mt 25:13). ‘Could you not stay awake with me one hour?’ (Mt.26:40) I don’t think I’ve got the energy today; I’ll think about that tomorrow.

I used to believe that the stories woven into the Passion narrative were there as warning examples. So that we would learn from what happened to Peter, what happened to Judas, and not do those things ourselves. But increasingly I feel that the gospels simply tell us how things are. For every Nazanin Zaghari-Radcliffe with an educated and vocal spouse determined to bring about her release, there are hundreds of dissenters whose families and friends look on in helpless horror, unable to do a thing to help. People are bought and sold every day of the week. Used as pawns, treated as collateral damage. And others take care to look the other way, try not to enquire too closely, insist that we all need to keep a sense of perspective.

We are all – potentially – Peter, sticking our hands in our pockets and fading into the background. We are all – potentially – Pilate, washing his hands of the blood, wondering aloud what truth is, anyway. We are even all – potentially – Judas (everyone has his price). In a manner of speaking, of course. In our own way. And the Passion story faces that fact head-on, traces out the desolating nexus of pride and weakness, selfishness and ruthlessness that leads to the death on the cross, the moment when humankind falls into the abyss. The appalling moment of triumph.

Thank God, it doesn’t end there. It’s hard to believe that it was all calculated in, that everything happened the way it was meant to happen. That in the infinite kindness of God, even our failings are taken into account and somehow redeemed. It doesn’t sound right, does it? But to read the Passion narrative that way seems to go less against the grain of reality. For if we had all been our best selves – if Judas hadn’t let resentment and envy get the better of him, if Peter hadn’t bottled it yet again, if Pilate had shown a bit of backbone – then the crucifixion might never have happened. And neither would the resurrection. And then where would we be? Forever locked out of grace.

This will be the last of my regular(-ish) weekly blogs. After a year of pandemic, I’m finding it increasingly difficult to write to order. I’ll continue to contribute to the St Mary’s blog page once a month or so – whenever something moves me to write. In the meantime, I’d like to wish you a blessed and happy Easter, and a safe path out of lockdown.