But before he was raised, Jesus died. He died just as he told them he would. He went to Jerusalem at Passover and became victim to the religious and the romans, hell bent on crushing rebellions and dreams. They had to stop him from becoming bigger than he was, a mere Galilean peasant with grandiose ideas and a following of naïve and needy souls. He told them it was going to be that way, that it must be that way. He told them that he would die and in three days rise again. They hadn’t believed him though. They had chosen not to believe it because they loved him, they needed him, they expected more than death from him. Accepting mortality and death is hard for any of us. We hate death and how it robs us of ourselves, our loved ones. Besides, they expected that he was the one to set right what was wrong with the world. They believed that he could change the world, heal the wounds, reconcile the wrongs, fix the broken. Usually putting that much hope in a single human being is a bad idea, never ends well. But they believed that he had the power to change everything, if he stayed alive and accepted his role as the anointed King. They believed that he was messiah, a holy king sent by God himself to restore the kingdom of Israel, to abolish the powers that threatened daily existence, to release prisoners, heal the sick, give hope to the dying. They had reason to believe in him; he was healing and teaching with power and authority and what he said and did was Good, very good. His goodness seemed to include all kinds of people; jews, pagans, men, women, children, ethnic minorities practicing other forms of Judaism, soldiers, tax collectors working for the roman empire, prostitutes, lawyers, the wealthy and the poor. Everyone was invited, but few were willing to accept. No one wanted to be with those people. What he offered was life for the ages, but not without cost. Discipleship was about serving others, giving freely and generously, accepting the other, loving the enemy. Following his path might mean to reject one’s own family. Putting God’s mission first. Putting my wants and needs last. He called fishermen and zealots and tax collectors and not-so-trustworthy followers. And he entrusted them with his work of healing and forgiveness. He said, only in becoming the last, the least, and the loser does one get into God’s kingdom. For those who did believe this, the last thing they needed was a dead rabbi.
