Then one of the twelve, who was called Judas Iscariot, went to the chief priests and said, “What will you give me if I betray him to you?” They paid him thirty pieces of silver. And from that moment he began to look for an opportunity to betray him.
-Matthew 26:14-16

Was Judas Right?

I never thought so. But this year? I’m questioning everything.

Judas wanted action in the face of injustice. He witnessed firsthand the brutality of Roman occupation: politicized religion, tax systems rigged for the rich, racial discrimination, constant intimidation, torture, and state-sponsored executions. He watched Caesar install loyalists into puppet positions of power—all at the expense of the Jewish people.

Umm… does any of that sound familiar?

From where I stand, we’re experiencing some of the same empire rot Judas saw 2,000 years ago. Whether America has officially entered “empire” territory is up for debate, but something is profoundly wrong.

I’ve probably preached about Judas fifty times, and each time I’ve called him misguided. He wanted the warrior Messiah—the sword-swinging general riding in on a warhorse to overthrow Rome and restore peace to Israel.

Instead… he got a suffering servant.

And I’ll be honest. This year, I feel some of that same pressure Judas must have felt, when he tried to manipulate Jesus into action. Things are not okay. Surely Jesus sees that, right? And yet… he doesn’t fix it.

He doesn’t call down thunder.
He doesn’t even raise a hand to stop the violence.
He walks to the cross like a lamb to slaughter.

I’ll admit it: In the face of what I see as deeply unchristian actions in our government, I’ve been praying for some good ol’ fashioned divine intervention.

I want Jesus to climb down off that cross and DO SOMETHING.

This, I pray, is where Judas and I part ways. I’ve come to trust that Jesus knew exactly what he was doing. He saw through the empire. He saw through time.
He was confronting not just a corrupt system, but every corrupt system.

Oppression isn’t new. Rome was just one flavor of it. Jesus took on the whole buffet.

He chose to climb up on that cross—not to escape, but to expose the whole damn thing. And then he walked out of that tomb—not just as a survivor, but as a redeemer. Radical love, he revealed, is stronger than any empire.

So we wait.
We work.
We protest.
We love.
And through the Holy Spirit, we become his body—still confronting empire with love, still pushing toward a Kingdom not of this world.

I understand Judas’ impatience. I really do.

But in the end, violence, manipulation, and retribution won’t get us there.
Love will. Not the Hallmark kind—the kind that marches, speaks out, stands firm.

And we’re still not there. None of us are free until all of us are free.

So, even though it’s still holy week, Christ calls us Easter people to raise our voices. The cross bids us to not be mere bystanders, but zealots for God’s priceless Kingdom.

It’s a new life worth more than all the gold in Fort Knox…

or thirty pieces of silver.

Have a Holy Week,

Mitch