The Passion of our Lord Jesus Christ according to Saint Matthew

Matthew 26:14–27

¹⁴Then one of the Twelve, called Judas Iscariot, went to the chief priests, ¹⁵and said to them, "What are you willing to give me and I will deliver it to you?" And they counted out thirty pieces of silver to him. ¹⁶From that moment on, he sought a favorable opportunity to betray Jesus. ¹⁷On the first day of Unleavened Bread, the disciples came to Jesus and asked, «Where do you want us to prepare the Passover meal?» ¹⁸Jesus answered them, «Go into the city to a certain man and tell him,» The Teacher says: My time is near; I will celebrate the Passover with my disciples at your house.'’ ¹⁹The disciples did as Jesus had commanded them, and they prepared the Passover. ²⁰When evening came, he sat down to eat with the Twelve. ²¹While they were eating, he said, "Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me."" ²²They were deeply saddened, and each one began to say to him, "Is it I, Lord?" ²³He replied: "Whoever has dipped their hand into the dish with me will betray me.". ²⁴The Son of Man will go as it is written about him, but woe to that man by whom the Son of Man is betrayed! It would have been better for him if that man had not been born.» ²⁵Judas, who betrayed him, spoke up and said, "Is it I, Master?" "You said so," Jesus replied. ²⁶During the meal, Jesus took the bread, and after saying a blessing, he broke it and gave it to his disciples, saying, «Take and eat; this is my body.» ²⁷Then he took the cup, and after giving thanks, he gave it to them, saying, «Drink from it, all of you:

Matthew 26:66

⁶⁶"What do you think?" They replied, "He deserves to die."

The abbreviations designating the different speakers are as follows: † = Jesus; L = Reader; D = Disciples and friends; F = Crowd; A = Other people. L. At that time, one of the Twelve, named Judas Iscariot, went to the chief priests and said to them, D, «What will you give me if I hand him over to you?» L. They gave him thirty pieces of silver. From then on, Judas looked for an opportunity to betray him. On the first day of the Festival of Unleavened Bread, the disciples came to Jesus and asked him, D, «Where do you want us to prepare the Passover meal?» L. He told them, † «Go into the city to a certain man and tell him, «The Teacher says: My hour is near. I want to celebrate the Passover with my disciples at your house.»» L. The disciples did as Jesus had instructed them and prepared the Passover meal. When evening came, Jesus was reclining at the table with the Twelve. During the meal, he said, «Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me.» They were deeply distressed and began to ask him one after another, «Surely you don’t mean me, Lord?» He replied, «The one who has dipped his hand into the bowl with me is the one who will betray me. The Son of Man will go just as the Scriptures foretell. But woe to that man by whom the Son of Man is betrayed! It would have been better for him if he had not been born.» Then Judas, the one who would betray him, said, «Surely you don’t mean me?» Jesus answered, «You say so.» During the meal, Jesus took bread, gave thanks, broke it, and gave it to his disciples, saying, «Take and eat; this is my body.» Then he took a cup, gave thanks, and gave it to them, saying, «Drink from it, all of you, for this is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins. I tell you, I will not drink again of this fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father’s kingdom.» After singing a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives. Then Jesus said to them, «This very night you will all fall away because of me, for it is written: «I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep of the flock will be scattered.» But after I have risen, I will go ahead of you into Galilee.» Peter spoke up and said, «Even if all fall away on account of you, I will never fall away.» Jesus answered him, «Truly I tell you, this very night, before the rooster crows, you will deny me three times.» Peter said to him, «Even if I must die with you, I will never deny you.» And all the disciples said the same. Then Jesus went with them to a place called Gethsemane and said to them, «Sit here while I go over there and pray.» He took with him Peter, James, and John, the two sons of Zebedee, and he began to be sorrowful and troubled. He said to them, «My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. Stay here and keep watch with me.» Going a little farther, he fell facedown to the ground and prayed, «My Father, if it is possible, take this cup from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.» Then he returned to his disciples and found them sleeping. He said to Peter, «So, could you not watch with me for one hour? Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.» Again, he went away and prayed a second time, «My Father, if this cup cannot be taken away unless I drink it, your will be done.» When he came back to the disciples, he found them sleeping again, because their eyes were heavy with sleep. Leaving them, he went away once more and prayed a third time, saying the same words. Then he returned to the disciples and said to them, «Are you still sleeping and resting? Look, the hour is near when the Son of Man will be betrayed into the hands of sinners. Rise! Let us go! Here comes my betrayer!» While Jesus was still speaking, Judas, one of the Twelve, arrived with a large crowd armed with swords and clubs, sent from the chief priests and the elders of the people. Now his betrayer had given them a sign: «The one I kiss is the man. Arrest him.» Immediately he went up to Jesus and said, «Greetings, Teacher!» And he kissed him. Jesus said to him, «Friend, do what you came for.» Then they came up, seized Jesus, and arrested him. One of those who were with Jesus reached for his sword, drew it, struck the servant of the high priest, and cut off his ear. Then Jesus said to him, «Put your sword back in its place, for all who draw the sword will die by the sword. Do you think I cannot call on my Father? He will at once put at my disposal more than twelve legions of angels. But how then would the Scriptures be fulfilled?» At that time Jesus said to the crowd, «Am I a robber, that you have come out with swords and clubs to arrest me? Every day I sat in the temple courts teaching, and you did not arrest me.» But all this took place to fulfill the writings of the prophets. Then all the disciples deserted him and fled. Those who had arrested Jesus brought him before Caiaphas the high priest, at whose house the teachers of the law and the officials had gathered. Peter followed him at a distance as far as the high priest's palace. He entered the courtyard and sat with the servants to see how it would all end. The chief priests and the whole Sanhedrin were looking for false testimony against Jesus so that they could condemn him to death. They did not find any, although many false witnesses came forward. Finally, two came forward and declared: A. «This man said, «I am able to destroy the temple of God and rebuild it in three days.»» L. Then the high priest stood up and said to him: A. «Have you nothing to say? What do you say to these testimonies against you?» L. But Jesus remained silent. The high priest said to him: A. «I adjure you by the living God, tell us if you are the Messiah, the Son of God.» L. Jesus answered him, † «You say so. But I tell you, from now on you will see the Son of Man seated at the right hand of the Almighty and coming on the clouds of heaven.» L. Then the high priest tore his clothes and said, A. «He has blasphemed! Why do we need any more witnesses? You have just heard the blasphemy! What is your opinion?» L. They answered, F. «He deserves death.» L. Then they spat in his face and slapped him. Others struck him, saying, F. «Prophesy, Messiah! Who hit you?» L. Meanwhile, Peter was sitting outside in the courtyard. A servant girl came to him and said, A. «You also were with Jesus of Galilee.» L. But he denied it before them all, D. «I don’t know what you’re talking about.» Another servant girl saw him go out to the gate and said to those standing there, «This man was with Jesus of Nazareth.» Again Peter denied him, swearing, «I do not know the man.» A little later, those standing there came up to Peter and said, «Surely you are one of them! Your accent gives you away.» Then he swore vehemently, «I do not know the man!» Immediately a rooster crowed. Then Peter remembered the word Jesus had spoken to him: «Before the rooster crows, you will deny me three times.» He went out and wept bitterly. Early in the morning, all the chief priests and the elders plotted against Jesus to put him to death. They bound him, led him away, and handed him over to Pilate, the governor. Then, when Judas, who had betrayed him, saw that Jesus was condemned, he was filled with remorse. He brought back the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and officials, saying, «I have sinned by betraying an innocent man to death.» They replied, «What is that to us? That’s your problem.» Throwing the pieces of silver into the temple, he withdrew and went away to hang himself. The chief priests gathered up the silver and said, «It is not lawful to put it into the temple treasury, since it is blood money.» After consulting together, they used the money to buy the potter’s field as a burial ground for foreigners. That is why that field is called the Field of Blood to this day. Thus was fulfilled the word of the prophet Jeremiah: They took the thirty pieces of silver, the price of him on whom the Israelites had put a price, and gave them for the potter’s field, as the Lord had commanded me. Jesus was brought before Pilate, the governor, who questioned him: A. «Are you the king of the Jews?» L. Jesus answered: † «You say so.» L. But while the chief priests and the officials accused him, he gave no answer. Then Pilate said to him: A. «Do you not hear all these accusations against you?» L. But Jesus gave him no further reply, so that the governor was greatly amazed. Now at the festival the governor was accustomed to release a prisoner whom the crowd wanted. At that time there was a prisoner known to him, named Barabbas. When the crowds had gathered, Pilate said to them, «Whom do you want me to release to you: Barabbas, or Jesus, who is called the Messiah?» He knew that it was out of jealousy that they had handed Jesus over. While he was sitting on the tribunal, his wife sent him a message: «Have nothing to do with that innocent man, for I have suffered a great deal in a dream today because of him.» The chief priests and the officials urged the crowds to demand Barabbas and to have Jesus killed. The governor asked again, «Which of the two do you want me to release to you?» They answered, «Barabbas!» Pilate said to them, «Then what shall I do with Jesus, who is called the Messiah?» They all answered, «Let him be crucified!» Pilate asked, «Why, what crime has he committed?» They shouted even louder, «Crucify him!» When Pilate saw that his efforts were in vain and only served to increase the uproar, he took water and washed his hands in front of the crowd, saying, «I am innocent of this man’s death. See to it yourselves.» All the people answered, «His blood be on us and on our children!» Then he released Barabbas to them. But he had Jesus flogged and handed him over to be crucified. The governor’s soldiers took Jesus into the Praetorium and gathered the whole company around him. They stripped him of his clothes and put a scarlet robe on him. Then they twisted together a crown of thorns and set it on his head. They put a reed in his right hand and knelt before him to mock him, saying, «Hail, King of the Jews!» «L. After spitting on him, they took a reed and struck him on the head. When they had mocked him, they took off his robe, put his own clothes back on him, and led him away to be crucified. As they went out, they found a man from Cyrene named Simon and forced him to carry Jesus» cross. When they arrived at a place called Golgotha (that is, the Place of the Skull), they offered Jesus wine mixed with gall. He tasted it but refused to drink it. After they had crucified him, they divided his clothes among themselves by casting lots. Then they sat there guarding him. Above his head they placed an inscription stating the reason for his condemnation: «This is Jesus, the King of the Jews.» Then they crucified two robbers with him, one on his right and one on his left.« Those who passed by hurled insults at him, shaking their heads and saying, «You who destroy the temple and rebuild it in three days, save yourself if you are the Son of God, and come down from the cross!» Likewise, the chief priests, the teachers of the law, and the officials mocked him, saying, »He saved others, but he cannot save himself! He is the King of Israel; let him come down now from the cross, and we will believe in him! He has put his trust in God; let God deliver him now if he pleases him! For he said, «I am the Son of God.»« The robbers who were crucified with him also hurled insults at him. From noon until three in the afternoon, darkness came over the whole land. Around three o'clock, Jesus cried out with a loud voice, "Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?" (which means, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"). When some of those standing there heard this, they said, "He's calling for Elijah!" Immediately, one of them ran and got a sponge, soaked it in vinegar, put it on a stick, and gave it to him to drink. The others said, "Wait! Let's see if Elijah comes to save him." But Jesus, with a loud cry, gave up his spirit. (Here one kneels and pauses for a moment) And behold, the curtain of the Temple was torn in two from top to bottom. The earth shook, and the rocks split. The tombs broke open, and the bodies of many saints who had died were raised to life. Coming out of the tombs after Jesus' resurrection, they entered the holy city and appeared to many people. When the centurion and those with him who were guarding Jesus saw the earthquake and these things, they were terrified and exclaimed, "Surely this was the Son of God!" Many women were there, watching from a distance. They had followed Jesus from Galilee to care for him. Among them were Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James and Joseph, and the mother of the sons of Zebedee. That evening, a rich man from Arimathea named Joseph, who had also become a disciple of Jesus, came to Pilate and asked for Jesus' body. Pilate ordered that it be given to him. Joseph took the body, wrapped it in a clean linen cloth, and placed it in his own new tomb that he had cut out of the rock. Then he rolled a large stone against the entrance of the tomb and went away. Mary Magdalene and the other Mary were there, sitting opposite the tomb. The next day, after the day of Preparation, the chief priests and the Pharisees gathered at Pilate's house, saying, "Sir, we remember that while he was still alive that deceiver said, 'After three days I will rise again.' So give orders that the tomb be made secure until the third day, lest his disciples come and steal the body and tell the people, 'He has risen from the dead.' This last deception would be worse than the first." Pilate told them, "You have a guard. Go and make it secure as you know how." So they went and made it secure, sealing the stone and setting a guard there.

Entering into the Passion: what Matthew reveals to us about love to the very end

Understanding Holy Week through the most structured narrative of the Gospels to transform our faith into concrete action

You have already read the Passion according to Matthew aloud, or heard this long narrative during the Palm Sunday liturgy, and wondered: why so much detail? Why does Matthew take care to note Pilate's wife, the potter's field, the tombs being opened? This text is not simply a historical account. It is a meticulously constructed theological fresco, linking the Old Testament to the Paschal event, and challenging each believer to examine the quality of their own faithfulness. This article is for anyone who wants to go beyond the narrative surface to touch the living heart of the Christian mystery.

Matthew's Passion narrative is not linear in the journalistic sense—it is theological in the truest sense: each scene fulfills a scriptural promise, each character is a mirror held up to the reader. We will first explore the unique literary and liturgical context of this text, then analyze the internal logic that structures the twenty-nine scenes of the narrative. Next, we will develop the three major spiritual themes that emerge—betrayal, silence, and fruitful death—before drawing concrete applications for ordinary Christian life. We will conclude with a prayer and a weekly practice of five simple steps.

Matthew at the heart of tradition: a story tailored for God's people

To understand why Matthew wrote the Passion as he did, we must know for whom he was writing. Around the years 80-90 AD, a Judeo-Christian community—probably based in Antioch of Syria—was searching for its bearings. It had just experienced the destruction of Jerusalem (70 AD), the break with the synagogue, and at the same time, it had to open itself to the nations. Matthew was a catechist as much as an evangelist. His Gospel is the most structured of the four: five major discourses imitating the five books of Moses, a genealogical prologue that connects Jesus to Abraham and David, and a constant concern for the fulfillment of Scripture.

The Passion (Mt 26–27) is no exception to this logic. It is the narrative and theological culmination toward which the entire Gospel converged. From the very first chapter, the angel had announced that Jesus «would save his people from their sins» (Mt 1:21)—this promise finds its dramatic fulfillment here. The Greek term telos (fulfillment, end) resonates subtly through each prophetic quote: the thirty pieces of silver, the potter's field, the silence before Pilate, everything is explicitly linked to Jeremiah, Zechariah, Isaiah.

What distinguishes Matthew from Mark—from whom he draws inspiration—is precisely this scriptural depth. Mark is more direct, more immediate. Matthew, on the other hand, takes the time to name the fulfilled prophecies, to specify the ritual gestures, to add the episodes absent from Mark: Pilate's wife and her dream (Mt 27:19), Pilate's gesture of washing his hands (Mt 27:24), the guards at the tomb (Mt 27:62-66), the resurrected saints entering the Holy City (Mt 27:52-53). These additions in Matthew are not embellishments—they are keys to theological interpretation.

Liturgically, this text is proclaimed on Palm Sunday, at the beginning of Holy Week. It offers a total immersion: the reader enters into the Passion even before experiencing its daily rites. Matthew thus constructs a pedagogy for the week: one first hears the whole, and then relives each fragment—Holy Thursday, Good Friday, the Easter Vigil—with a deeper understanding. The narrative is therefore simultaneously catechesis, kerygmatic proclamation, and liturgical prayer. It speaks to the novice believer as well as the seasoned theologian.

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The structure of the text itself reveals this pedagogical care. Five main units can be distinguished: the betrayal and the Last Supper (26:14-35), the prayer in Gethsemane and the arrest (26:36-56), the religious and civil judgments (26:57 – 27:26), the crucifixion and death (27:27-56), and the burial with the guard at the tomb (27:57-66). Each unit is a dramatization of Jesus' identity: who is this man whom his friends abandon, whom his enemies condemn, and whom creation itself seems to recognize at the moment of his death?

The hidden thread: fulfillment as the key to understanding the entire Passion

If we had to summarize in one sentence the theological originality of the Passion according to Matthew, it would be this: everything that happens to Jesus was foreseen, announced, willed — not in the sense of a blind destiny, but in the sense of a love that goes to the end of its own logic.

Matthew uses the phrase "to fulfill the Scriptures" or its equivalents seven times in these two chapters. This is not apologetic rhetoric intended to convince opponents. It is a confession of faith: the God who spoke through the prophets is the same God who acts in the story of Jesus. There is no break between the two Testaments—there is a dramatic continuity, like that between a betrothal promise and the wedding itself.

Let us take the most striking example: the thirty pieces of silver. Matthew quotes (Mt 27:9-10) a prophecy he attributes to Jeremiah, but which actually comes from Zechariah 11:12-13, with an echo in the Book of Jeremiah (32:6-15) regarding the purchase of the field. This juxtaposition is not a mistake: it is a midrashic technique, a typological reading that superimposes two prophetic texts to construct a richer meaning. The price of betrayal—thirty pieces of silver, the price of a wounded slave according to Exodus 21:32—becomes the symbol of a humanity that values the Son of God at the price of a serf. The fulfilled prophecy is not an anecdotal detail; it is a declaration of the dignity of Jesus and the blindness of those who reject him.

This same structural motif of fulfillment illuminates Jesus' silence. Before Caiaphas and Pilate, Jesus does not defend himself—or hardly at all. This disconcerts everyone in the narrative: "The governor was greatly astonished" (Mt 27:14). But this silence is a direct transposition of Isaiah 53:7: "He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth, like a lamb led to the slaughter." Isaiah's Suffering Servant found in Jesus not a willing imitator but an ontological fulfillment. Jesus is not silent because he has nothing to say. He is silent because his strongest utterance will be his cry of abandonment (Mt 27:46) and his death (Mt 27:50)—two moments to which all of creation responds.

The resurrection of the saints at the moment of Jesus' death (Mt 27:52-53) is one of the most enigmatic passages in the entire New Testament. Nowhere else in the Gospels is such an event found. Matthew inserts it to make it clear that Jesus' death already inaugurates an eschatological reality: the veil of the Temple is torn from top to bottom (a sign that access to God is now open to all), the earth trembles, the rocks split, and the dead are raised. This is not gratuitous miracle: it is a theology of creation recapitulated. When the Son of God gives up his spirit, the old order is overturned and the new begins.

This thread of fulfillment runs through the entire Passion like a spine. It's not about proving Jesus was the Messiah by ticking prophetic boxes. It's about showing that God's love for humanity is consistent, faithful, and irrevocable. What God has promised, he fulfills—even when it means the cross.

Betrayal, or the face of sin in our lives

Judas is the most psychologically complex character in the Passion narrative of Matthew. Matthew is the only evangelist to give us his reflection after Jesus' condemnation (Mt 27:3-10). And what he describes is not indifference—it is remorse. "I have sinned by betraying an innocent man to his death." This sentence is extraordinary. Judas acknowledges his guilt, proclaims Jesus' innocence, and yet cannot find the path to forgiveness. He goes to hang himself.

This contrast with Peter is striking and deliberate. Peter, too, betrays—he denies Jesus three times, with oaths and vehement protests. But Peter, unlike Peter, weeps. «He went out and wept bitterly outside.» And the Gospel of Matthew doesn't tell us what happens next to Peter in this passage—but the reader knows, from the foretold resurrection, that this path of tears leads to restoration.

What distinguishes Judas's remorse from Peter's repentance? Classical Christian theology, particularly that of Augustine and Thomas Aquinas, answered: it is not the gravity of the sin, but the direction of the gaze. Judas looks at his sin and condemns himself. Peter looks at Jesus—and Jesus had looked at him (Luke 22:61 specifies this, but Matthew implies it through his account of the prediction of the denial). Remorse turns inward; repentance turns toward the Other.

There is a profound spiritual lesson here for contemporary Christian life. How many believers carry the burden of past sins not because they haven't been forgiven, but because they refuse to accept forgiveness? Judas's sin wasn't simply betraying Jesus—it was believing that this act defined him forever and that no mercy could overcome him. This is, in a sense, the sin against the Holy Spirit that Jesus speaks of elsewhere: not a specific transgression, but the refusal to believe that God is greater than our sins.

In Matthew's Passion, betrayal also takes on a collective face. The disciples who "all fled" (Mt 26:56), the crowds who shouted "Crucify him!" after having acclaimed the King a few days earlier during the entry into Jerusalem, the high priests who preferred political stability to truth—all these figures are mirrors. Matthew does not condemn them moralistically; he presents them so that the reader may recognize themselves and make a different choice.

Gethsemane, the laboratory of authentic prayer

The scene in Gethsemane (Mt 26:36-46) is probably one of the most theologically dense in the entire New Testament. It shows us Jesus—the Son of God according to Peter's confession (Mt 16:16) and according to the Father's voice at the Baptism and the Transfiguration—in the grip of absolute human distress. "My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death."«

This formulation echoes Psalm 42 («Why are you bowed down, my soul?») and signals a kenosis—a humbling—that is not merely superficial. Matthew’s Christ is not stoic. He does not pass through the Passion like an ancient hero above the fray. He truly suffers, he truly trembles, he asks—three times—that «this cup be taken from him.» Three times he prays. Three times he returns and finds his disciples asleep. This threefold structure mirrors Peter’s threefold denial: the two scenes reflect each other and underscore the chasm between human weakness and Christ’s faithfulness.

But the heart of the scene is the formula of the third prayer: «Thy will be done!» (Mt 26:42)—a formula that the Matthean reader immediately recognizes as the third petition of the Lord’s Prayer (Mt 6:10). Jesus is not reciting a prayer he has taught; he is living it. He embodies it in flesh and blood, in the darkness and in anguish. The Lord’s Prayer is not a ritual formula—it is the blueprint for a life conformed to the Father’s will, even when that will costs everything.

For Christian spirituality, this scene is foundational. It legitimizes the prayer of petition—Jesus asks—while situating it within a broader movement of filial trust. It also reveals something essential about suffering: it is not denied, circumvented, or explained away. It is presented to the Father with complete honesty. It is precisely this model that the monastic tradition, from Cassian to Teresa of Avila, has meditated upon as the foundation of contemplative prayer.

Finally, there is something gentle and poignant in the reproach made to the sleeping disciples: «Could you not stay awake with me for even one hour?» It is not a harsh rebuke. It is the complaint of a friend who longed for companionship in his night. And Matthew notes that Jesus twice found them asleep without abruptly waking them—he allowed them to sleep. This says something about how God takes our limitations into account without lowering his expectations. He still wants us with him, even when we are asleep.

The death of Jesus as a cosmic event and ultimate revelation

The central moment of the entire Passion narrative of Matthew is the cry of Psalm 22: «My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?» (Mt 27:46). This cry is often cited as evidence of genuine despair in Jesus’ soul. But to understand it in this way, without reading it within its scriptural context, is to miss its profound meaning.

Psalm 22 is one of the most Christological psalms in the Old Testament. It begins with this cry of abandonment—and it ends with a triumphant confession of faith: «Future generations will be taught by the Lord… He has done it!» (Psalm 22:31). By quoting the opening lines of the psalm, Jesus summons the entire psalm into the consciousness of the instructed reader. It is not merely a cry of despair—it is a prayer that includes ultimate trust, even if the body does not yet see the outcome.

This does not diminish the reality of the experience. Hans Urs von Balthasar forcefully emphasized the reality of the abandonment experienced by Christ in his death: it is a total solidarity with sinful humanity in its estrangement from God, a descent into the night of separation so that no one is ever alone in that night again. This theology of vicarious substitution—Jesus bearing our abandonment so that we may no longer be abandoned—is the heart of the Paschal Mystery according to Matthew.

And then come the cosmic signs. The Temple curtain is torn—from top to bottom, an important detail: it is God who acts, not man. The earth trembles. The rocks split. The dead rise and enter the Holy City. This cascade of extraordinary events has a precise theological function: the death of Jesus is not the end of an individual story, however holy it may be. It is an event that reconfigures the order of the world.

The Roman centurion who declares, «Truly, this was the Son of God!» is the symbol of this movement toward universality. A Roman soldier, representing the imperial power that has just executed Jesus, becomes the first confessor of the Easter faith. Matthew thus echoes the promise of the universal mission that will conclude the Gospel (Mt 28:18-20): this Son of God is recognized in the four corners of the earth, even by those who seemed the most distant.

What Passion changes in concrete terms

The Passion according to Matthew is not a text to be contemplated from afar, from the comfortable armchair of history. It directly addresses every sphere of the believer's life.

In the inner life and in prayer. Gethsemane permits, and even demands, honesty with God. Too many believers pray with polite words that mask genuine distress. Matthew shows that Jesus himself prayed in sweat and tears, with a request that went in one direction and an acceptance that went in another. Authentic prayer is not passive resignation; it is a dialogue with the Father where we bring our whole being, trusting that his will is better than our own.

In broken relationships. The characters of Judas and Peter teach us that sin is not the final word—but that we can, through our rigidity toward ourselves or others, allow it to have the final say. The grace of forgiveness exists; however, we must allow ourselves to be embraced by it. This requires concrete humility: returning, like Peter, even after a crushing failure, even without being certain of being accepted.

In professional and social life. Jesus' silence before Pilate was a provocation in an era that valued self-assertion, defending one's interests, and controlled communication. There are times when the most powerful word is silence. There are injustices that cannot always be corrected by arguments, but that can be borne in other ways—with a dignity that confounds persecutors, just as Christ confounded Pilate.

In community engagement. Joseph of Arimathea, a discreet figure, makes a decisive move: he steps out of the shadows to claim Jesus' body. He takes a real political risk. The women who "watched from a distance" (Mt 27:55)—Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, the mother of the sons of Zebedee—are the only ones to remain present until the end. Faithfulness, in Matthew's Passion, is not expressed through grand pronouncements (Peter had promised to die with Jesus) but through small, concrete actions in the midst of the difficult moment.

Following in the footsteps of the Fathers: how tradition has interpreted this Passion

The patristic reception of the Matthean Passion is extraordinarily rich. A few key points allow us to measure the depth of this tradition.

John Chrysostom, In his homilies on Matthew (written in Antioch around 390), Chrysostom emphasizes the royal paradox of the Passion: Jesus is both king and servant, judge and condemned. The red cloak with which the soldiers cover him to mock him is, for Chrysostom, a sacred irony: they were unaware that they were actually dressing a king. This understanding of kingship from below, of power in weakness, would permeate all of Christian spirituality up to Thérèse of Lisieux and her "little way.".

Augustine of Hippo meditates at length on the cry of abandonment in his Enarrationes in Psalmos. For him, it is Christ who prays in his Church: it is not only the individual Jesus who cries out, but all redeemed humanity which, in him, carries its distress to God. This "corporate" reading of Christ—Christ and the Church forming a single praying subject—is one of Augustine's great contributions to liturgical theology.

Bernard of Clairvaux He sees in the scene of Gethsemane the model of the monk in prayer: the monk, like Jesus, must pass through night before dawn, through doubt before certainty, through supplication before surrender. His meditation on the Song of Songs in connection with the Passion influenced all of Rhenish and Flemish mysticism of the Middle Ages.

Thomas Aquinas, in the Summa Theologica (IIIa, q. 46-50), analyzes the Passion from the perspective of theological appropriateness: why was it fitting that the Son of God should suffer in this way? His answer articulates five reasons related to atonement for sin, the model of virtue, victory over the devil, the confirmation of faith, and the exaltation of human dignity. This scholastic synthesis does not replace spiritual meditation, but it provides a rational framework that protects faith from misunderstandings.

In the more recent tradition, Hans Urs von Balthasar (The Theology of the Three Days, (1990) renewed reflection on death and the descent into hell by emphasizing Christ's solidarity with all humanity, including those who seem furthest from God. This Paschal theology directly informs contemporary pastoral care for those who are grieving, depressed, or experiencing a loss of faith.

Lectio divina

Stop and contemplate: a five-step meditation itinerary

The Passion is a text meant to be inhabited, not just read. Here is a structure for meditation that can be practiced in one week, one evening per day.

First night: enter through Judas. Reread Matthew 26:14-16 and 27:3-10. Ask yourself: where am I calculating in my relationship with God? Where am I negotiating what should not be negotiable? Conclude by specifically naming a place where I want to "return the thirty pieces" — that is, return to a selfless relationship.

Second evening: entering through the Last Supper. Read Matthew 26:26-29 again. Take a piece of bread, hold it in your hand, and meditate silently on these words: «This is my body, given for you.» What bodies have I received? What bodies have I wounded? The Last Supper is not just a rite—it is an ethics of the body.

Third night: enter through Gethsemane. Read Matthew 26:36-46 again. Formulate aloud or in writing the prayer you don't dare say to God—the one that goes against what you think is His will, but that you carry within you. Then, after a silence, add: "Yet not as I will, but as you will."«

Fourth evening: enter through the crosses. Reread Matthew 27:45-50. Stay with the cry of abandonment. Don't explain it right away. Simply hold it, as you would hold the hand of a friend who is suffering and doesn't understand. Think of someone in your circle who is going through their own night of Gethsemane or Golgotha.

Fifth night: entering through the tomb. Read Matthew 27:57-66 again. Joseph of Arimathea and the women remain. They don't yet understand—there is no resurrection yet on their horizon. But they remain. What is the tomb to which you are called to remain faithful, even without a visible resurrection?

The challenges of our time in the face of Passion

Matthew's Passion is not just a first-century text. It speaks to very contemporary challenges, and it would be dishonest not to name them.

The challenge of violence. The Passion narrative describes a judicial execution at the end of an unjust trial. For many contemporaries, especially after the horrors of the 20th century and the persistent injustices of the 21st, it is difficult to see this death as a "redemptive" event without glorifying suffering. Contemporary Christian theology has had to grapple with this pitfall. It is not suffering in itself that saves—God is not a sadist—but the love that pervades suffering without flinching. The cross does not sanctify violence; it reveals its absurdity and responds with a stronger love.

The challenge of antisemitism. The phrase «His blood be on us and on our children!» (Mt 27:25) was used for centuries to justify persecutions against the Jewish people. It is one of the most painful chapters in Christian history. Catholic theology, since the Second Vatican Council and the declaration Nostra Aetate (1965) is clear: the Passion of Christ cannot in any way be attributed to the entire Jewish people, neither to those of the first century nor, a fortiori, to those of today. This crowd crying out in Jerusalem is not "the Jews"—it is all of humanity, represented by all its actors: Roman soldiers, Jewish priests, fleeing disciples, the manipulated crowd. Each of us is in this story.

The challenge of God's silence. For many suffering believers—after a sudden loss, a long illness, or an unanswered injustice—Jesus' cry, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" is the only verse in the Bible that truly speaks to them. And that is precisely its power. Matthew does not censor this cry. He does not immediately offer a comforting response. He lets it be what it is: the most honest prayer in human history, uttered by the Son of God himself. In doing so, he says to every man and woman in the darkness: you are not alone in your cry—God himself uttered it.

The challenge of long-term loyalty. The Passion confronts us with our own fragility as disciples. Who among us can honestly say they wouldn't have slept in Gethsemane, fled at the arrest, or denied everything by the fireside? Social psychology teaches us that the disciples' behavior is perfectly normal under pressure. What Matthew offers is not an unattainable heroic ideal, but a path of conversion that is constantly renewed: falling, weeping, rising again, like Peter.

Prayer inspired by the Passion according to Matthew

To enter into the Easter Triduum

Lord Jesus, you experienced the night of Gethsemane — that night when prayer is costly, when friends sleep, and when the Father's will seems impossible to attain.

Teach me to pray like this: with all that I am, with my fears that I dare not name, with my requests that seem contrary to your will, and with this fragile, trembling, real yes — Thy will be done.

You have known betrayal—the betrayal of a friend, the betrayal of a crowd, the betrayal of loved ones who chose to flee. Teach me not to judge Judas too harshly, I who also sometimes negotiate what should not be negotiated. And teach me, if I betray, to weep like Peter—to you—and not to hang myself with my own guilt.

You remained silent before Pilate, not out of resignation, but because some truths cannot be defended—they are embodied. Grant me the wisdom to discern when speaking is to betray the truth, and when remaining silent is to serve it.

You cried out your abandonment on the wood of the cross — and that cry was the truest prayer ever formulated, because it came from the depths of the human condition and was addressed to a Father whom you never doubted, even in the night when you no longer felt Him.

Teach me to scream too, without dressing up my distress with polite words. Teach me that the abandonment I feel is not the real abandonment — and that you are in my night before I could invite you in.

You were laid in the tomb, and guards watched to ensure nothing more happened. But God cannot be guarded. Grant me the hope of Easter that does not deny Good Friday, but knows that the last word does not belong to death.

Amen.

The Passion, a text that reads us

There's a strange thing about the Passion according to Matthew: the more you read it, the more you get the impression that it's reading you. Each character is a mirror. Judas calculating, Peter promising too much, the disciples sleeping, the crowd giving in to social pressure, Pilate washing his hands, the women staying behind—which character do you identify with this morning?

Matthew wrote for a community in crisis, searching for its bearings between an ancient tradition and a new world. His answer is not primarily doctrinal—it is narrative. He says: look at how he lived, look at how he died, look at who he was to the very end. And decide if you want to follow him.

Holy Week is the annual invitation to relive this decision. Not in the sense of an empty ritual repetition, but in the sense of a renewal of baptism — of this foundational choice to configure one's life to that of Christ, who died and rose again.

The call is simple: enter this text not as a spectator, but as a character. Identify our personal Gethsemane—that cup we would rather not drink from. Present it honestly to the Father. And let His will be greater than our resistance.

For it is there, says Matthew, that the resurrection begins.

Five practical tips for Holy Week

• Reread one episode from Matthew 26–27 each evening for five to ten minutes, choosing a character and asking yourself: Where am I in this scene?
• Write down your own "Gethsemane prayer" — an honest request to God, followed by an act of trust in his will, even without understanding.
• Choose a concrete gesture of presence for someone suffering this week, like the women who "remained" at the foot of the cross without being able to do anything else.
• Identify a betrayal you have committed — against God, against someone, against yourself — and make an appointment with a confessor or spiritual director before Easter.
• Participate physically, if possible, in the Good Friday liturgy, letting the silence of the adoration of the cross last longer than usual, without trying to fill it.
• Offer Holy Week to someone close to you who is going through a difficult time, simply by saying: "I'm thinking of you this week."«
• Reread Mt 28:1-10 — the beginning of the resurrection — on the evening of Holy Saturday, before the Easter Vigil, as a promise that precedes the dawn.

References

Primary texts

• Gospel according to Saint Matthew, official liturgical translation (AELF), chap. 26–27.
• Chrysostom, John, Homilies on the Gospel of Matthew, homilies 80–88, PG 58. French translation: Sources Chrétiennes.
• Augustine of Hippo, Enarrationes in Psalmos, Ps 21 (22), PL 36. Sources Chrétiennes 58.
• Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica, IIIa Pars, questions 46 to 50 (De Passione Christi). Trans. Deer, Paris.

Secondary texts

• Balthasar, Hans Urs von, The Theology of the Three Days. Mysterium Paschale, Desclée de Brouwer, Paris, 1990.
• Brown, Raymond E., The Death of the Messiah, 2 vols., Anchor Bible Reference Library, Doubleday, New York, 1994. (Major exegetical reference on the Passion narratives in the four Gospels.)
• Gnilka, Joachim, The Gospel of Matthew, Herder, Freiburg, 1988. (Reference scientific commentary.)
• Second Vatican Council, Nostra Aetate, Declaration on the Church's relations with non-Christian religions, §4, 1965. (On the non-collective imputation of the Passion to the Jewish people.)

✝ Biblical references

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📖 Codex — Biblical Book

Matthew

Matthew (tradition) · 80–90 AD · 1071 verses

Behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age. (Matthew 28:20)

The Gospel of the King: Jesus, the new Moses, fulfills the Scriptures for Israel and the nations.

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Matthew 26

📖 Read Matthew 26 🔍 Cross-references

💡 Understanding

• His clothing was as white as snow (Dan 7:9-10, 13-14)
• You will drink from my cup (Mt 20:20-28)
• He revealed himself to them in the breaking of the bread (Luke 24:13-35)
• The Son of Man will go, as it is written; but woe to him by whom he is betrayed! (Mt 26:14-25)

🕊️ Meditate

• To be different in order to be free: the Christian, a happy stranger in a world that rejects him
• When love resists betrayal: Judas, Jesus, and the abyss that has yet to reveal its final word
• When a fragrance breaks the silence: Marie, spikenard, and the mystery of total self-giving
• Hosanna today, crucify him tomorrow: the disturbing mirror of the crowds of Jerusalem
• Let us open the gates to the King: when Jerusalem hesitates between hosanna and the cross

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• Burning for the Eucharist: Saint Peter Julian Eymard

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📍 Locations Gethsemane Luke 22:42 Jerusalem Psalm 122:6

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