The Price of Thirty Pieces

In 2018, a photograph surfaced of a former bodyguard testifying against the very person he had sworn to protect. Reporters noted how he avoided eye contact with his old employer across the courtroom. He had been offered immunity — his freedom in exchange for betrayal. Afterward, interviews revealed he could barely sleep. The deal that saved him also hollowed him out.

Judas knew that arithmetic. Thirty silver coins — roughly four months' wages for a laborer — was the price the chief priests set for the Son of God. It was not a fortune. It was insultingly ordinary. And yet Judas took it, walked to the garden where he had shared bread and prayers, and handed Jesus over with a kiss. The most intimate gesture became the instrument of treachery.

What strikes the heart in Matthew's Passion narrative is not just the betrayal but the willingness of the Betrayed. Jesus did not flee Gethsemane. He told Peter to sheath his sword. He stood silent before Pilate when a single sentence could have saved Him. The Almighty wrapped in human flesh chose the nails.

Every one of us has stood in that courtyard with Peter, warming our hands by the fire, calculating what loyalty might cost us. The good news of Good Friday is that Jesus already knew we would. He went to the cross not because we were faithful, but precisely because we were not — and He loved us through every denial.