Holy Wednesday — The Conspiracy

In Jerusalem, the chief priests and elders gathered at the palace of Caiaphas, the high priest. The problem was urgent: Jesus had publicly humiliated them on Tuesday, challenged their authority, predicted the Temple’s destruction, and pronounced devastating “woes” against them before the crowds. He had to be eliminated.

But how?

“Not on the feast day,” they agreed, “lest there be an uproar among the people.”

Passover would bring hundreds of thousands of pilgrims to Jerusalem — some estimates suggest 300,000 or more. Many had witnessed Jesus’ miracles or heard His teaching. He was wildly popular with the common people. An arrest during the festival could spark a riot — and Roman intervention. The Romans were already on edge during Passover, which celebrated Israel’s liberation from a foreign empire. The last thing the priests wanted was Roman soldiers in the Temple.

Better to wait until after Passover, when the crowds dispersed and Jesus was less protected.

But then Judas came — and everything changed.

Meanwhile, in Bethany, a very different scene was unfolding — one of the most beautiful moments in the Gospel narrative.

According to Matthew and Mark, Jesus was dining at the house of Simon the leper (probably a man Jesus had healed). This dinner sets the stage for the anointing that would follow — a profound contrast to the conspiracy unfolding in Jerusalem.

A woman came to Jesus with an alabaster jar of very expensive ointment — pure spikenard, imported from the Himalayan region, worth nearly a year’s wages.

She broke the jar — these vessels were often designed to be broken open, sealing the precious contents until use — and poured the ointment over Jesus’ head.

Some of those present were indignant: “Why this waste? This ointment might have been sold for much, and given to the poor.”

John identifies the chief objector as Judas (John 12:4–5) — ironic, given that he had just agreed to sell Jesus for a fraction of the ointment’s value.

Jesus defended her: “Why trouble ye her? She hath wrought a good work on me… She is come aforehand to anoint my body to the burying. Verily I say unto you, Wheresoever this gospel shall be preached throughout the whole world, this also that she hath done shall be spoken of for a memorial of her.”

What the disciples saw as waste, Jesus received as worship. This woman understood — perhaps better than the Twelve themselves — that Jesus was about to die. In Jewish practice, bodies were anointed with fragrant oils before burial. She anointed Him as one prepares a body for the grave — before the grave.

(Note: John’s Gospel places a similar anointing six days before Passover, identifying the woman as Mary of Bethany and saying she anointed Jesus’ feet. Scholars debate whether these are two separate events or one event with different details preserved. Either way, the act of extravagant devotion remains powerful.)

One of the Twelve walked into Caiaphas’s palace and offered what the priests desperately needed: inside information.

“What will ye give me, and I will deliver him unto you?”

The priests had a problem: they couldn’t arrest Jesus publicly without risking a riot. They didn’t know where He stayed at night (He had been sleeping in Bethany, outside the city). They needed someone who could lead them to Jesus when He was alone, away from the crowds. Judas could do exactly that.

Why did Judas do it? The Gospels offer several clues:

• Greed: John tells us Judas was a thief who “had the bag, and bare what was put therein” — he pilfered from the disciples’ common fund (John 12:6).

• Disillusionment: Perhaps Judas had joined the movement expecting a political Messiah who would overthrow Rome. When Jesus rode a donkey instead of a war horse, spoke of suffering and death, and failed to claim an earthly throne, Judas may have decided to cut his losses.

• Satanic influence: Luke states simply that “Satan entered into Judas” (Luke 22:3). Whatever human motivations drove him, a darker power was at work.

Thirty Pieces of Silver: The Price of a Slave

“And they covenanted with him for thirty pieces of silver.”

This specific amount was loaded with prophetic significance:

According to Exodus 21:32, if an ox gored a slave to death, the owner of the ox must pay thirty shekels of silver to the slave’s master. Thirty pieces of silver was the compensation for a dead slave — the lowest valuation of human life in the Mosaic code. The chief priests valued the Son of God at the price of a slave.

Centuries earlier, the prophet Zechariah had enacted a prophetic drama. Acting as a shepherd of Israel, he asked for his wages. They paid him thirty pieces of silver — an insulting amount. The Lord told him: “Cast it unto the potter: a goodly price that I was prised at of them.” Zechariah threw the money into the Temple treasury, to be given to the potter (Zechariah 11:12–13).

Matthew would later note that when Judas returned the money in remorse, the priests used it to buy the potter’s field — fulfilling Zechariah’s prophecy in precise detail (Matthew 27:3–10).

Two Offerings — The Contrast

The contrast between Wednesday’s two offerings could not be sharper:

• Judas sold Jesus for thirty pieces of silver — the price of a slave.
• The woman poured out a year’s wages in worship — the costliest gift she could give.

One sought to profit from Jesus’ death. The other prepared Him for it with love. One would be remembered with infamy. The other would be remembered “for a memorial of her” wherever the gospel was preached.

The Calm Before the Storm

The sun set on Wednesday. Tomorrow would be Passover preparation day. Tomorrow, Jesus would eat His last meal with His disciples, wash their feet, institute a new ordinance that would be practiced for millennia, and enter the garden where the weight of all human sin would press upon Him until He sweat drops of blood.

The storm was coming.

In Jerusalem, the chief priests and elders gathered at the palace of Caiaphas, the high priest. The problem was urgent: Jesus had publicly humiliated them on Tuesday, challenged their authority, predicted the Temple’s destruction, and pronounced devastating “woes” against them before the crowds. He had to be eliminated.

But how?

“Not on the feast day,” they agreed, “lest there be an uproar among the people.”

Passover would bring hundreds of thousands of pilgrims to Jerusalem. Many had witnessed Jesus’ miracles or heard His teaching. An arrest during the festival could spark a riot. Better to wait until after Passover — but then Judas came, and everything changed.

Meanwhile, in Bethany, a very different scene was unfolding — one of the most beautiful moments in the Gospel narrative.

According to Matthew and Mark, Jesus was dining at the house of Simon the leper (probably a man Jesus had healed). This dinner sets the stage for the anointing that would follow — a profound contrast to the conspiracy unfolding in Jerusalem.

A woman came to Jesus with an alabaster jar of very expensive ointment — pure spikenard, imported from the Himalayan region, worth nearly a year’s wages.

She broke the jar and poured the ointment over Jesus’ head.

Some were indignant: “Why this waste?” John identifies the chief objector as Judas (John 12:4–5) — ironic, given that he had just agreed to sell Jesus for a fraction of the ointment’s value.

Jesus defended her: “She is come aforehand to anoint my body to the burying. Verily I say unto you, Wheresoever this gospel shall be preached throughout the whole world, this also that she hath done shall be spoken of for a memorial of her.”

What the disciples saw as waste, Jesus received as worship.

One of the Twelve walked into Caiaphas’s palace and offered what the priests desperately needed: inside information.

“What will ye give me, and I will deliver him unto you?”

They covenanted with him for thirty pieces of silver — the price of a slave according to Exodus 21:32. The chief priests valued the Son of God at the lowest valuation of human life in the Mosaic code.

From that moment, Judas sought opportunity to betray Him.

Jesus sent Peter and John ahead to Jerusalem: “Go and prepare us the passover, that we may eat.”

They asked where. Jesus gave them a curious sign — they would meet a man carrying a water pitcher (unusual, since women typically carried water). They were to follow him and ask for the guest chamber. There they would find a large upper room, already furnished and ready.

Why the secrecy? Jesus knew Judas was looking for an opportunity to betray Him “in the absence of the multitude” (Luke 22:6). By keeping the location secret until the last moment, Jesus ensured He could share this final meal with His disciples without interruption.

“With desire I have desired to eat this passover with you before I suffer.” The Greek construction (epithymia epithymēsa) conveys deep emotional yearning. Jesus knew what was coming. He wanted to be with them.

The meal progressed through the traditional Passover elements. But then Jesus did something shocking.

He rose from supper, laid aside His outer garment, wrapped a towel around His waist, poured water into a basin, and began washing the disciples’ feet.

This was the work of the lowest household slave — a task so menial that Jewish slaves were exempt from it. Yet here was the Master, the Lord, the Son of God, kneeling before His disciples with a basin and towel.

Peter was horrified: “Lord, dost thou wash my feet?” Then refused: “Thou shalt never wash my feet!”

Jesus’ response cut to the heart: “If I wash thee not, thou hast no part with me.”

When Jesus finished, He explained: “If I then, your Lord and Master, have washed your feet; ye also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have given you an example.”

The King of Kings had become the servant of all. His followers must do likewise.

The mood shifted suddenly.

“Verily I say unto you, that one of you shall betray me.”

The disciples looked at each other, grieved and confused. They began asking: “Lord, is it I?” Even Judas asked.

John, reclining next to Jesus, leaned back and asked who it was. Jesus answered: “He it is, to whom I shall give a sop, when I have dipped it.”

He dipped a piece of bread and gave it to Judas — ironically, a gesture of special favor. Then He said: “That thou doest, do quickly.”

Judas took the bread and went out.

John records four haunting words: “And it was night.”

With the betrayer gone, Jesus transformed the Passover meal into something new.

He took bread, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to the disciples, saying: “Take, eat; this is my body which is given for you: this do in remembrance of me.”

He took the cup (likely the third cup of the Passover, called the “cup of blessing”): “This cup is the new testament in my blood, which is shed for you.”

For 1,500 years, the Passover meal had commemorated Israel’s deliverance from Egypt. The lamb’s blood on the doorposts had saved Israel’s firstborn from the destroying angel. Now Jesus revealed what Passover had always pointed to: He was the Lamb. His blood would deliver humanity — not from Pharaoh, but from sin and death.

“A new commandment I give unto you, That ye love one another; as I have loved you, that ye also love one another. By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another.”

Not merely “love your neighbor as yourself” — the standard Jesus Himself had cited from Leviticus. Now the standard was higher: “As I have loved you.” The measure of love was Christ’s own self-giving sacrifice.

Then came the Farewell Discourse — Jesus’ longest and most intimate teaching, recorded only in John (chapters 14–16). On this last night, He poured out His heart:

The Way to the Father: “I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.”

The Promise of the Comforter: “I will pray the Father, and he shall give you another Comforter, that he may abide with you for ever; even the Spirit of truth.”

The Vine and the Branches: “I am the vine, ye are the branches: He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit: for without me ye can do nothing.”

Peace Amid Tribulation: “In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.”

Finally, Jesus prayed aloud — the great Intercessory Prayer of John 17, sometimes called the “High Priestly Prayer.”

He prayed for Himself: “Father, the hour is come; glorify thy Son, that thy Son also may glorify thee.”

He prayed for His disciples: “I pray for them… Holy Father, keep through thine own name those whom thou hast given me, that they may be one, as we are.”

He prayed for all believers through all time: “Neither pray I for these alone, but for them also which shall believe on me through their word; that they all may be one.”

On the night of His betrayal, facing torture and death, Jesus’ concern was for His followers — then and forever.

Jesus prophesied what was about to happen: “All ye shall be offended because of me this night: for it is written, I will smite the shepherd, and the sheep of the flock shall be scattered abroad.”

Peter protested: “Though all men shall be offended because of thee, yet will I never be offended.”

Jesus responded with sobering specificity: “Verily I say unto thee, That this night, before the cock crow, thou shalt deny me thrice.”

Peter doubled down: “Though I should die with thee, yet will I not deny thee.” All the disciples said the same. Within hours, they would all flee.

When the hymn was sung — likely the second half of the Hallel (Psalms 115–118), traditionally sung at the close of the Passover meal — they went out into the night, crossed the Kidron Valley, and came to the Mount of Olives.

The Hallel’s words would have been especially poignant: “The LORD is on my side; I will not fear: what can man do unto me?” (Psalm 118:6).

In a garden called Gethsemane (Hebrew gat shemanim, “oil press”), Jesus told most of the disciples to sit and wait. He took Peter, James, and John further in.

“My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death: tarry ye here, and watch with me.”

He went a stone’s throw further, fell to the ground, and prayed: “O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless not as I will, but as thou wilt.”

Three times He prayed. Three times He returned to find His disciples sleeping.

Luke alone records what happened during this agonized prayer: “And being in an agony he prayed more earnestly: and his sweat was as it were great drops of blood falling down to the ground.”

This phenomenon, called hematidrosis, occurs under extreme psychological distress. Luke also records that “there appeared an angel unto him from heaven, strengthening him.”

What was happening in Gethsemane? Latter-day revelation provides additional understanding:

“Which suffering caused myself, even God, the greatest of all, to tremble because of pain, and to bleed at every pore, and to suffer both body and spirit — and would that I might not drink the bitter cup, and shrink.” — D&C 19:18

In Gethsemane, Jesus took upon Himself the sins, pains, and sicknesses of all humanity. The Atonement had begun.

Then came torchlight through the olive trees — lanterns, torches, a mob with swords and clubs.

Judas approached with a kiss, the prearranged signal.

Jesus asked: “Whom seek ye?” — “Jesus of Nazareth.” — “I am he.”

At those words — egō eimi, “I AM” — the soldiers drew back and fell to the ground. Even in this moment, His divine identity flashed forth.

Peter drew his sword and struck the high priest’s servant Malchus, cutting off his right ear. Jesus stopped him: “The cup which my Father hath given me, shall I not drink it?” Then He touched the servant’s ear and healed him — His last miracle before the cross.

The disciples fled. Jesus was bound and led away. The longest night had begun.