Gospel of Jesus Christ according to Saint Matthew

Matthew 26:14–25

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.

At that time, one of the Twelve, named Judas Iscariot, went to the chief priests and said to them, «What will you give me if I hand him over to you?» 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, «Where do you want us to prepare the Passover meal?» 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.»» The disciples did as Jesus had instructed 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.» Deeply distressed, they 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, asked, «Surely you don’t mean me?» Jesus answered, «You say so.»

When betrayal becomes the passage: understanding the mystery of Judas and the sovereignty of the Son of Man

How Matthew 26:14-25 reveals that even the darkest night is part of God's plan — and what that means for our own lives

There is a scene in the Gospel of Matthew that grabs us by the throat: a man eats with Jesus, dips his bread into the same dish, and that very evening, he already has his reward in his pocket. Thirty pieces of silver. The contrast is staggering. Yet, in the midst of this night of betrayal, a word from Jesus illuminates everything: «The Son of Man will go, just as it is written.» This is not the resignation of a victim. It is the sovereign declaration of a King who walks freely toward his throne. This article is for you if you have ever doubted that God remains in control when everything seems to be falling apart.

We will explore this text in five stages. First, we will place it within its liturgical and narrative context to hear its true resonance. Next, we will analyze the mechanism of betrayal—how it is woven, how it is confessed. Then, we will develop the three major theological themes that this passage opens: human freedom in the face of divine plan, the identity of the Son of Man, and the power of Jesus' word in the face of falsehood. We will then see how this text speaks concretely to our lives. Finally, we will lay the foundations for a meditation and a prayer rooted in this Word.

The threshold of night

To truly understand Matthew 26:14-25, we must first know where we are in the Gospel narrative. We are at a pivotal point. Holy Week has just begun: Jesus has entered Jerusalem under the palm branches (Mt 21), he has cleansed the Temple, debated with the religious leaders, and delivered the eschatological discourse on the Mount of Olives (Mt 24-25). The tension is rising like water nearing its boiling point.

And Matthew, with his distinctive sense of drama, opens chapter 26 with two strikingly contrasting scenes. On the one hand, an unnamed woman pours expensive perfume on Jesus' head, a gesture of prophetic extravagance that Jesus himself interprets as a preemptive funeral anointing (Mt 26:6-13). On the other hand, immediately afterward, Judas rises from the table—metaphorically, at least—and goes to the chief priests. The evangelist doesn't explain why. He simply observes, clinically: "What will you give me if I hand him over to you?"«

This parallel is not accidental. Matthew is a theologian who composes in diptychs. The woman's total gift—her money, her gesture, her love—echoes Judas's bargaining. One gives without counting; the other calculates, negotiates, receives. Thirty pieces of silver: in Hebrew kesef, The legal price for an injured slave according to Exodus 21:32, and the same amount that the prophet Zechariah receives, in a gesture of divine irony, as payment for his despised ministry (Zechariah 11:12-13). Matthew knows this. His Jewish readers know this. The reader is thus forewarned: we are in the realm of scriptural fulfillment.

The following scene, the preparations for Passover, is mysteriously precise. Jesus sends his disciples to "so-and-so" (pros ton deina), a Greek phrase referring to someone whose name is not given—or whose name is deliberately withheld. Scholars debate: was this an intentional secrecy so that Judas couldn't warn the authorities too early? Possibly. What is certain is that Jesus controls the timing. He says, "My time is near."« Ho kairos mou engys estin. This is not a lament. It is a declaration.

The Passover meal is thus prepared. And it is in this rich liturgical setting — Passover, the memory of the liberation from Egypt, the ritual gestures of unleavened bread and wine — that Jesus utters the phrase that breaks the heart of the table: "One of you will betray me."«

You might like...

Leo XIV rekindles the flame of the Council: a return to the sources for a Church in motion

The impact of this word must be measured within the context. Haggadah The Passover meal is a story of deliverance. It praises God for snatching his people from the hands of the enemy. And there, in the midst of this meal of salvation, Jesus announces that he will be betrayed by one of those sharing his table. The salt of betrayal mingles with the Passover bread.

The mechanism of the fall: how Judas ended up there

The analysis of this passage cannot avoid the question that every reader asks, often in a low voice: how did a man who walked three years with Jesus, who saw the miracles, heard the speeches, shared the life of the road - how did this man get to this point?

Matthew doesn't offer us a romanticized psychology. He doesn't explain Judas's deepest motivations. There is a restraint in his narrative that is itself an invitation not to reduce the mystery to a single explanation. Yet, a few textual elements deserve attention.

First point: Judas takes the initiative. «He went to the chief priests.» It is not the chief priests who come to him. He is the one who crosses the threshold, who takes the step. Human freedom is established there, irreducible, from the very first verse. No determinism can erase this fact: Judas chooses.

The second element is the question of price. «What do you want to give me?» The wording is troubling because it reveals a market logic applied to a person. Jesus is no longer the Master, the friend, the Lord: he is a commodity whose value is negotiated. The Church Fathers meditated at length on this shift. John Chrysostom writes in his Homilies on Matthew that Judas was afflicted with a "sickness for money" that had gradually numbed all his other spiritual faculties. This is a moralizing interpretation, but not without merit: the Gospels tell us that Judas was the keeper of the common purse and that he helped himself to money from it (John 12:6). Corruption doesn't appear suddenly. It takes root.

The third element—and this is the most disconcerting—is that during the meal, when Jesus announces the betrayal, the disciples react with collective sadness and an anguished question: «Surely it is I, Lord?» The question is magnificent because it reveals a fundamental humility: no one says to themselves, «Certainly not I.» Each one searches their own heart. Each one, except Judas. Judas asks the same question—«Rabbi, is it I?»—but notice the difference: he says Rabbi, not Lord. Didaskalos rather Kyrios. A title of respect, certainly, but one that speaks volumes about the distance being maintained. And Jesus' response, "You yourself have said so," is not a resounding accusation. It is a gentle, almost discreet confirmation, which leaves Judas fully responsible for his actions without publicly crushing him.

Here, something profound happens: Jesus does not denounce Judas before the other disciples. He answers him in Aramaic—according to the tradition of the manuscripts—in a way sufficiently veiled so that the others do not hear a definitive condemnation. To the very end, a door remains ajar. It is a merciful discretion that reveals more about the heart of Jesus than any speech.

Judas's fall thus follows a trajectory that spiritual tradition recognizes as typical of moral drift: an inner distance that gradually sets in, a substitute attachment (money), a distancing in language (Rabbi instead of Lord), and finally, the act itself after a long incubation period. The act of betrayal is not a sudden explosion. It is the ripe fruit of a long inner process.

Human freedom and God's plan, two realities that cannot be denied

The central phrase of the passage — "The Son of Man goes away, just as it is written about him; but woe to him by whom the Son of Man is betrayed!" — directly poses the oldest problem of Christian theology: the compatibility between divine predestination and human freedom.

If Judas's betrayal was "written," was Judas free not to betray? And if what he did was foreseen and even part of God's plan, can we truly speak of moral failing, responsibility, or deserved misfortune?

Matthew does not resolve this tension. He maintains it. And that is precisely where its depth lies. The Gospel simultaneously affirms: "as it is written" — the betrayal is part of a planned, announced, and deliberate design in its final outcome — AND: "woe to him by whom…" — personal responsibility is absolute and its consequences tragic.

How can we think about this? Patristic tradition offers a useful key. Saint Augustine, in The City of God and in his treatises on grace, he distinguishes between divine foreknowledge (praescientia) and divine causality (praedestinatioGod knows in advance what Judas will do, but it is not God who makes him do it. Knowledge is not the cause. God sees the whole story from a position of eternity, like someone observing a procession from a height: he sees both the beginning and the end without dictating each step.

Thomas Aquinas will elaborate on this when discussing causality. seconda God is the primary cause of all good, but secondary causes—the free will of creatures—act in a genuinely free manner at their own level. Evil, however, does not have God as its cause. It has the creature as its cause—precisely because the creature can choose not to conform to the good for which it was made.

What happens at the Passover table illustrates this in an almost didactic way: Jesus knows. He announces. He doesn't hold back. He leaves Judas free to go through with it. And yet, from this misused freedom, God draws the salvation of the world. This is the quintessential Paschal paradox: the worst crime in human history—betraying and having the most innocent person killed—becomes, in God's hands, the act of universal salvation. Not because betrayal is good in itself, but because God is sovereign enough to write straight with the crooked lines drawn by our failing freedoms.

For the reader today, this is extraordinary news. Your mistakes, your betrayals, the times you sold someone or something precious for thirty pieces of instant gratification—these moments are not beyond God's redeeming power. He does not approve of them. He weeps over them, as Jesus wept over Jerusalem. But he can do something with them.

The Son of Man — who departs and where

The phrase "the Son of Man" is one of the most loaded in the entire Gospel. Jesus constantly uses it to speak of himself in the third person, and it is a way of referring to the vision in Daniel 7, where "someone like a son of man" receives from the Most High a universal and eternal reign.

Here, Jesus says that the Son of Man "is going away" (hypageiThis verb is interesting. It doesn't say: "they're going to kill me," "I'm going to die," "they're going to capture me." It says that he part. In this verb, he adopts an active stance. He is not carried away. He goes. This is the same logic that John expresses in his prologue and in the Passion narrative: Jesus himself lays down his life (Jn 10:18). The authority is his.

«As it is written» (kathôs gegraptaiThis formula is one of the most frequent in Matthew, the evangelist of fulfillment. It refers to a number of scriptural texts: Isaiah 53 with the Suffering Servant delivered up for the sins of the multitude, Psalm 41 with the traitor who eats the bread of the righteous, Zechariah 11-13 with the thirty pieces of silver and the shepherd struck down. Matthew does not explicitly quote these texts here—he doesn't need to: his readers know their Bible and hear the echoes.

This «as it is written» is fundamental to the Christian faith because it signifies that the Passion of Jesus was not an accident. It was not a case where events unfolded beyond all expectations, where a religious movement ended in disaster due to a lack of organization. It was the fulfillment of an ancient plan, woven through centuries of prophecy, figure, and type. The cross was anticipated. It was foretold. It was willed—not as sanctioned violence, but as an act of willing love.

Jesus' words in the face of man's lies

There's a moment in the text that's often glossed over: Jesus' response to Judas. When Judas asks, "Rabbi, is it I?", Jesus replies, "You yourself have said so." In Greek: Su eipas — «You said it.»

This formula recurs twice in the Passion narrative: before Caiaphas (Mt 26:64) and before Pilate (Mt 27:11). In all three cases, Jesus does not say "yes" directly. He turns the question back to the person he is speaking to. It is as if Jesus refuses to simply validate the cognitive framework within which the question is posed. He does not lie—he confirms the truth—but he does so in a way that engages the freedom of the one asking the question.

Faced with Judas, this response is particularly charged. Judas asked, «Is it I?»—probably knowing full well that yes, it was him. The question is perhaps a final test, a last moment where a direct word from Jesus might have stopped him. And Jesus replies, «You yourself have said so.» He doesn’t take on Judas’s confession for him. He reflects back to him his own truth. It is a form of profound respect for human freedom, even in its worst forms.

There is also something prophetic in this response: Jesus tells Judas the truth at the precise moment when Judas is living a lie—the lie of hypocrisy (asking the question when he already knows the answer), the lie of a double life (sharing the Passover meal while having already received the price of betrayal). Jesus doesn't cry scandal. He simply states the truth and lets it do its work.

This text speaks to our lives

In personal and spiritual life

The first challenge this text poses is that of honest self-examination. The Eleven's reaction—"Could it be me, Lord?"—is a model of what we might call clear-sighted humility: not presuming oneself immune to betrayal. Every spiritually mature person knows that the best intentions can falter, that misplaced attachment (to money, comfort, the approval of others) can gradually steer our choices in ways we don't always clearly perceive.

It is helpful to regularly ask ourselves the question the disciples ask: "Could that be me?" Not in a spirit of self-flagellation, but in a process of discernment. In which relationships do I give unconditionally? In which do I calculate, negotiate, and keep an escape route?

The second challenge concerns how we experience betrayal. Many of us have known our own Judas: a friend who sold our trust, a colleague who exploited our vulnerability, a loved one who turned their back on us when we needed them most. This text doesn't say that it's insignificant. It says something both more difficult and more liberating: even this can be part of a greater purpose. Not that we should accept passive abuse, nor minimize it. But betrayal doesn't have the final say.

In ecclesial and community life

This scene takes place at a table. Betrayal occurs within a community, not in some abstract no man's land. The most painful betrayals are those that come from within—from those who have shared the same meal, the same path, the same convictions.

The Church has been riddled with betrayals throughout its history: clerics who abused their authority, leaders who sacrificed the weak to protect the institution, believers who betrayed their brothers for social approval. Matthew 26 doesn't shield us from this reality. It provides us with a framework for navigating it: with open eyes, without naivety, but also without despair. Jesus knew. He didn't dissolve his community because of it. He continued to share the meal.

In major life decisions

The "kairos"—the opportune moment—that Jesus mentions ("My time is near") is an invitation to live each moment with an awareness of its intensity. We all go through decisive times when we can either give our best or shirk our responsibilities. The text suggests that these moments are often less dramatic than we imagine: it is around a table, in the ordinariness of a meal, that everything is decided.

Betrayal in the grand tradition

The scene in Matthew 26 cannot be read in isolation. It is part of a vast conversation that runs throughout the entire Bible and the entire Christian tradition.

In the Old Testament, the closest parallel is that of Joseph, sold by his brothers for twenty pieces of silver (Genesis 37:28). The similarity to Judas's thirty pieces of silver is striking, and the Church Fathers were quick to note it. Joseph, like Jesus, is betrayed by a close friend, suffers injustice, and ultimately becomes the instrument of salvation for those who betrayed him. The parallel is structural: God transforms betrayal into grace.

Psalm 41, which Jesus implicitly quotes during the meal (cf. Jn 13:18 in a parallel version): «Even my close friend, in whom I trusted, who ate my bread, has lifted up his heel against me.» This lament of the betrayed righteous man is taken up by Jesus and ordered to its Paschal fulfillment. The psalmist's pain becomes the pain of Christ, and in this accepted pain, it is already transcended.

Among the Fathers, Origen meditates at length on the case of Judas in his Comment on Matthew. He subtly distinguishes the prescience and the causality, and insists that prophecy does not negate freedom: "The prophecy did not cause Judas to betray; it is because Judas was going to betray that the prophecy said so." This is an argument of reverse causality that remains philosophically relevant today.

Saint John Chrysostom, in his Homilies on Matthew, His approach is more pastoral: he sees in the disciples' situation a model of Christian humility and urges his Antiochian listeners never to presume on their own faithfulness. It's a sermon that could be preached today without changing a single comma.

On the medieval side, Saint Bernard of Clairvaux, in his Sermons on the Song of Songs, He meditates on the love that continues to give itself even in the face of ingratitude. He sees in the gesture of Jesus sharing the meal with Judas an icon of divine mercy that "cannot not love," even the one who turns away.

Closer to our time, Hans Urs von Balthasar, in The Divine Drama, Von Balthasar offers a striking reflection on the descent into hell and universal hope: can we hope that even Judas will be saved? He doesn't offer a definitive answer, but he refuses to close the door. This isn't a mechanical universalism; it's a faith in mercy that surpasses our capacity for self-destruction.

Lectio divina

Enter the scene

Time 1 — Read slowly. Take the text of Matthew 26:14-25. Read it aloud once, slowly, as if you had never heard it before. Let a word or phrase catch your attention. Write it down.

Step 2 — Sit down at the table. Imagine you are one of the Twelve. Not Judas, not Peter, not John—one of the others, the one whose name is never spoken. You are there. You hear Jesus say, «One of you will betray me.» How do you feel? What question arises within you?

Step 3 — Ask the question. Let the disciples' question arise within you: "Is it I, Lord?" Ask it honestly. In what relationship in your life are you perhaps calculating where you should give? In what area is your faithfulness more fragile than you let on?

Time 4 — Hear Jesus' response. Jesus does not respond with condemnation. He responds with a stark truth and an appeal to conscience. Listen to him say to you, too: "You yourself know." Let this silence work its magic.

Time 5 — Receiving Passover. The scene takes place at the Passover table—the table of liberation. Even in this dark moment, Jesus does not rise. He remains at the table. He shares the bread again. Allow yourself to be reached by this presence that does not withdraw, even when it is betrayed. And give thanks.

Current challenges

This biblical passage is not merely a document of the past. It addresses very contemporary issues with surprising acuity.

The challenge of moral relativism. A culture that dissolves the notion of personal responsibility into determinism—social, genetic, psychological—struggles with Jesus's "woe to him by whom..." If everything is explained by external factors, guilt certainly disappears, but with it also disappears the dignity of being truly the subject of one's own life. Matthew's text, by simultaneously maintaining Judas's freedom and situating the event within a divine plan, offers a more nuanced anthropology than our modern categories. Human beings are both conditioned and free. This is not a contradiction: it is the precise description of the human condition.

The challenge of cynicism in the face of institutional betrayal. In an era where scandals within the Church have shaken the confidence of many, it may seem naive to still speak of community, of a shared table, of brotherhood. How can we believe in a Church that has produced its own Judases—sometimes numerous, sometimes in positions of high responsibility? The text does not offer an answer that avoids the pain. It offers a perspective: Jesus knew there would be a traitor at his table. He continued nonetheless to gather the Twelve. The Church is not a society of perfect people. It is a table where imperfect people receive something they do not deserve—and are called to live better for it.

The challenge of providence in suffering. «As it is written»—this phrase is wonderful when all is well. It becomes scandalous in the face of unjust suffering. What does it mean to believe that even the darkest pages of our personal history are part of a plan? A word of caution: this statement should never be used to minimize real suffering, nor to justify the injustice endured. It is not a form of anesthesia. It is a compass: even in the night, the course remains. Even when I don't understand, it is possible to trust in the One who sees the whole procession from on high.

The challenge of truth in a world of competing narratives. Judas asks a question to which he already knows the answer. It's a lie in its purest form. In a world saturated with communication, storytelling, and self-presentation, the question Jesus turns back on itself—"You yourself said it"—is a reminder that inner truth always comes to light. We can tell ourselves many stories. The heart knows.

Prayer: Friday of betrayal and grace

Lord Jesus, Son of Man, who goes freely,

You knew about this night before it began. You knew the price that had been negotiated. You knew whose hand had touched the silver coins and would nevertheless dip into your dish.

And yet you lit the lamps. You still set the table. You still said the blessing over the bread.

Lord, I'm not sure I'm any better than Judas. I too have days when I calculate where I should give, days when I ask questions to which I already know the answer, days when I call someone "Master" but my heart is already elsewhere.

Teach me the question of the Eleven. Teach me to ask myself honestly: "Could it be me, Lord?" Not to torture myself, but to stay awake.

Teach me your merciful discretion: You who answered Judas without denouncing him, You who left a door open until the last moment, Teach me to hold the truth without crushing people with it.

And when I walk through the nights where someone I loved has traded my trust, when I find myself delivered by a familiar hand, help me to hear, behind the noise of betrayal, your serene voice saying: "My time is near."«

Not like the resignation of a vanquished man, but like the declaration of a King who knows where he is going and whose march no one can stop.

Lord, who departs as it is written, Go all the way through what is written. And take me with you into your passage.

Lamb who lets yourself be led to the slaughterhouse Not out of weakness but out of love, You do not need my strength. You need my consent.

Here it is.

Amen.

The night that brings morning

There's a quote from Dostoevsky that often comes to mind when reading this passage: "Beauty will save the world." It's often quoted out of context, but in The Idiot, It emerges precisely in a world permeated by moral ugliness, betrayal, and violence. Dostoevsky was not naive. He believed that a beauty stronger than ugliness could transcend it without being destroyed.

Matthew 26 tells us about a night of real moral ugliness. A man betrays his friend for money. And in that night, something infinitely beautiful happens: Jesus stays. He shares. He speaks the truth gently. He stays the course. He "goes away as it is written"—not as a victim, but as a King who has chosen his hour.

This text invites us not to despair in the face of the nights of betrayal we are experiencing, nor in the nights we have caused. It invites us to the humble vigilance of the Eleven, to the courageous question — «Could it be me?» — and to trust in a purpose that transcends our current understanding.

If you close this article with a single conviction, let it be this: your darkest night is already traversed, in its essence, by the One who freely goes to his cross. There is no betrayal that his grace cannot redeem. There is no table so compromised that he cannot still sit at it.

Go and prepare for Passover.

Seven steps to experience this passage

• Reread Matthew 26:14-25 each morning of Holy Week, asking yourself the question: "Could it be me, Lord?"«
• Identify a relationship in which you are giving more than you are receiving, and make a concrete decision to reverse it.
• Meditate on the formula Su eipas — «You said it yourself» — in a situation where you need to reconnect with your own inner truth.
• Read Isaiah 53 in its entirety, slowly, hearing it as the road map that Jesus freely followed.
• Pray for a person who has betrayed you, without minimizing the hurt, sincerely wishing them the grace of a turnaround.
• Participate in the Chrism Mass or the Lord’s Supper on Holy Thursday with the text of Matthew 26 in hand, as a living reading grid.
• Write down in a personal notebook a moment in your life when a betrayal suffered or committed ultimately opened an unexpected path.

References

Primary Sources

• Matthew 26:14-25 The Jerusalem Bible, Éditions du Cerf, 2000.
• Zechariah 11:12-13 and 13:7 — prophetic figure of the struck shepherd and the thirty pieces.
• Isaiah 52:13 – 53:12 — the suffering Servant given up for the multitude.
• Psalm 41 (40), 10 — «Even my friend has lifted up his heel against me.»

Patristic and theological sources

• Origen, Commentary on the Gospel of Matthew, French translation, Sources Chrétiennes.
• John Chrysostom, Homilies on Matthew, Homilies 80-81, trans. J.-B. Aubert, Paris, 1865.
• Augustine of Hippo, The City of God, books XI-XIV, Augustinian Library.
• Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica, I, q.22-23 (providence and predestination).
• Hans Urs von Balthasar, The Divine Drama, vol. IV, Lethielleux Publishing, 1994.
• Raymond E. Brown, The Death of the Messiah, Éditions du Cerf, French translation, 2005 — exhaustive commentary on the Passion in the four Gospels.

✝ Biblical references

1 passage · 1 book

📖 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.

→ Explore the Matthew Codex

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 Passion of our Lord Jesus Christ according to Saint Matthew (Mt 26:14 – 27:66)

🕊️ 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

✨ Saints

• Burning for the Eucharist: Saint Peter Julian Eymard

🌿 Live

• In the night, they adore him: the worldwide Eucharistic awakening that is changing the Church

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

👤 Characters

AT

Abraham

Patriarchs

NT

Caiaphas

Other NTs

AT

Isaac

Patriarchs

AT

Jacob

Patriarchs

NT

Jean-Baptiste

Precursor

NT

Jesus Christ

Jesus

NT

Judas Iscariot

Apostles

NT

Married

Family of Jesus

AT

Moses

Exodus

NT

The woman with the alabaster

NT

The woman who anointed Jesus at Bethany

NT

The soldier who strikes Jesus

NT

Malchus

NT

Simon the Leper

NT

Zebedee

🗺 Map