The Last Week of the Lamb

The Passover Pattern Good Friday Missed

Paul Hainline

NOBLEMIND PRESS

The Last Week of the Lamb: The Passover Pattern Good Friday Missed

Copyright © 2026 Paul & Pam Hainline.
All rights reserved.

Published by NobleMind Press
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All Scripture quotations are from the
New American Standard Bible® (NASB),
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The Lockman Foundation.
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First Edition

Prologue

The Promise and the Thread

Before we open the final week, we need to see the thread that runs into it. Because the last week of Jesus’ life did not begin in Jerusalem. It began in a garden — thousands of years earlier — with a promise buried inside a curse.

When Adam and Eve sinned and the world broke open, God did not walk away. He spoke to the serpent, and hidden in the judgment was the first whisper of rescue:

“And I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your seed and her seed; He shall bruise you on the head, and you shall bruise him on the heel.”

— Genesis 3:15

A descendant of the woman would crush the serpent’s head. The serpent would wound him — but the wound would be to the heel, not the head. One wound would be fatal. The other would not.

That is the first thread. A promise so faint you could almost miss it. But God does not make idle promises, and this one would be pulled tighter with every generation that followed.

To Abraham, God promised that through his seed, all the nations of the earth would be blessed (Genesis 22:18). To Jacob, He narrowed the line to the tribe of Judah and spoke of a ruler to whom the obedience of the peoples would belong (Genesis 49:10). To David, He promised a throne that would last forever and a descendant who would be called the Son of God (2 Samuel 7:12–16).

And then came the prophets.

Micah named the town — Bethlehem, too small to be counted among the clans of Judah, but the birthplace of a ruler whose origins were “from the days of eternity” (Micah 5:2). Isaiah described a child who would be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Eternal Father, Prince of Peace — a king whose throne would have no end (Isaiah 9:6–7).

But Isaiah also saw something no one expected. The Coming One would not arrive in triumph. He would arrive in suffering:

“He was despised and forsaken of men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.”

— Isaiah 53:3

“He was pierced through for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the chastening for our well-being fell upon Him, and by His scourging we are healed.” — Isaiah 53:5

“All of us like sheep have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way; but the Lord has caused the iniquity of us all to fall on Him.” — Isaiah 53:6

Pierced. Crushed. The iniquity of us all laid on Him. This was not the portrait of a conquering king. This was the portrait of a sacrifice.

And then Isaiah used a word that connects everything:

“Like a lamb that is led to slaughter, and like a sheep that is silent before its shearers, so He did not open His mouth.”

— Isaiah 53:7

Like a lamb.

That word is not an accident. It is not a poetic flourish. It is the key that unlocks the entire final week of Jesus’ life — because centuries before Isaiah wrote those words, God had already given His people a living, breathing picture of what the rescue would look like.

He gave them a lamb.

On the night God delivered Israel from slavery in Egypt, He did not simply open the doors and let them walk out. He required something specific. He required blood. He required a lamb — selected on a specific day, inspected for a specific period, killed at a specific time, its blood applied in a specific way. And when the angel of death passed through Egypt that night, it was the blood of the lamb on the doorposts that made the difference between life and death.

That was not just history. That was a blueprint.

Every detail of that night — the selection, the inspection, the killing, the blood, the timing — was an exact preview of what God would do fifteen centuries later when He sent His own Lamb into the world.

This book is about that week. The week when the blueprint became reality. The week when every detail that God encoded in the Passover was fulfilled — not approximately, not symbolically, but precisely. On the exact days. In the exact sequence. Down to the hour.

Most people have never seen it laid out this way. Not because the evidence is hidden, but because the traditions we inherited — “Palm Sunday,” “Good Friday,” “Easter” — have become the lens through which we read the text. And those traditions, as old as they are, do not come from the text. They come from men. When you set them aside and let the Gospel writers speak for themselves — following every time marker, every “next day,” every named feast and numbered count — what emerges is not chaos. It is precision. Divine precision.

What follows is not a theological argument. It is a textual investigation. We did not begin with a conclusion and look for evidence to support it. We began with the time markers in Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, and we followed them wherever they led. Where the text is explicit, we say so. Where a conclusion requires inference, we identify it as inference. Where we do not know, we say we do not know.

We ask only one thing of you: the willingness to look at the text — even if what it says is different from what you were taught.

The tradition is old. But the text is older.

Let’s open it together.

Part One

The Pattern

Chapter One

The Lamb in Egypt

Four hundred years. That is how long the descendants of Abraham had been in Egypt — and for a great portion of that time, they were slaves. The promise God made to Abraham still stood, but the people who carried it were making bricks for a king who did not know Joseph and did not care about the God of Israel.

And then, after four centuries of silence, God moved.

He sent a man named Moses. He sent plagues — ten of them — each one a direct challenge to the gods Egypt worshiped, each one escalating, each one met with Pharaoh’s stubborn refusal to let the people go. The Nile turned to blood. Frogs covered the land. Gnats. Flies. Livestock struck dead. Boils on every Egyptian. Hail that shattered trees. Locusts that devoured what was left. And then darkness — three days of darkness so thick you could feel it pressing against your skin.

Nine plagues. Nine refusals.

And then God told Moses what the tenth would be. This one was different. This one would not strike the water or the livestock or the sky. This one would strike families. The firstborn son in every household in Egypt would die — from the throne of Pharaoh to the dungeon of the lowest prisoner.

But God did not simply announce the plague and let it fall. He gave Israel a way through it.

And the way through it was a lamb.

What God told Moses that night is recorded in Exodus 12. If you have never read it slowly, I want to invite you to do that now — because these instructions are not just ancient history. They are an architectural drawing. A blueprint. And every line in that blueprint points to something that would be built fifteen centuries later in Jerusalem.

Let me walk you through it.

The Selection

“Speak to all the congregation of Israel, saying, ‘On the tenth of this month they are each one to take a lamb for themselves, according to their fathers’ households, a lamb for each household.’”

— Exodus 12:3

The lamb was not chosen at random. It was not grabbed from the flock at the last minute. God specified the day — the tenth of the month. In the Hebrew calendar, this month was Nisan, the first month of the religious year, falling roughly in our March or April.

On Nisan 10, every household in Israel was to go to the flock, examine the animals, and select one. From that moment, the lamb was set apart. It belonged to the household. It had been chosen for a purpose.

The Inspection

“Your lamb shall be an unblemished male a year old; you may take it from the sheep or from the goats. You shall keep it until the fourteenth day of the same month.”

— Exodus 12:5–6a

The lamb had to be unblemished. No defect. No injury. No disease. This was not a suggestion — it was a requirement. A blemished lamb would not do. The sacrifice had to be perfect.

And notice the timing. The lamb was selected on the tenth, but it was not killed until the fourteenth. That is four days. Why the wait? The text does not tell us explicitly. But the requirement of perfection was already stated — the lamb had to be without blemish. Keeping it in the household for four days, where it could be watched and handled daily, would give the family every opportunity to confirm what they believed when they chose it. If something was wrong with the lamb, four days would reveal it.

But four days would do something else, too. The lamb comes into the home. The children see it. They feed it. They touch it. For four days it lives among them — and then it dies for them. By the time Nisan 14 arrives, this is not an abstraction. The family knows this animal. The cost of the sacrifice is personal.

Whether God intended the four-day period for confirmation, for attachment, or for both, we are not told. What we can say is that He required it. He could have commanded the lamb to be selected and killed on the same day. He did not. He built a gap into the design — and that gap matters.

Hold that detail. We are going to need it later.

The Killing

“Then the whole assembly of the congregation of Israel is to kill it at twilight.”

— Exodus 12:6b

The NASB translates the Hebrew phrase as “at twilight.” The literal Hebrew is bein ha’arbayim — “between the evenings.” Jewish tradition understood this to mean the afternoon hours, roughly between three o’clock and sundown. That was when the Passover lamb was to be slaughtered. Not in the morning. Not at midnight. In the afternoon of Nisan 14.

God did not leave the timing to the household’s convenience. He specified when the lamb was to die — down to the part of the day.

The Blood

“Moreover, they shall take some of the blood and put it on the two doorposts and on the lintel of the houses in which they eat it.”

— Exodus 12:7

The lamb had to die. But the death alone was not enough. The blood had to be applied. It had to be taken and placed on the doorposts and on the lintel — the top and sides of the doorframe. It had to be visible. It had to be where it could be seen.

This is the detail that sets the Passover apart from every other sacrifice in the Old Testament. The blood was not poured on an altar. It was not sprinkled inside a tabernacle — there was no tabernacle yet. It was put on the door of the home. Right there at the threshold between death outside and life inside.

The blood was the dividing line.

The Promise

“The blood shall be a sign for you on the houses where you live; and when I see the blood, I will pass over you, and no plague will befall you to destroy you when I strike the land of Egypt.”

— Exodus 12:13

Read that again slowly. When I see the blood, I will pass over you.

That is the Passover. Not a holiday. Not a tradition. A transaction. The lamb died so the firstborn would not. The blood on the door was the evidence that a death had already occurred in that house — the lamb’s death in place of the son’s.

And when the angel of death passed through Egypt that night, he did not check whether the family inside was good enough. He did not ask whether they had been faithful enough, obedient enough, or deserving enough. He looked for one thing.

Blood.

Where there was blood, he passed over. Where there was not, the firstborn died.

The Meal

God did not stop at the blood. He gave specific instructions for what the family was to do that night.

“They shall eat the flesh that same night, roasted with fire, and they shall eat it with unleavened bread and bitter herbs.”

— Exodus 12:8

“Do not eat any of it raw or boiled at all with water, but rather roasted with fire, both its head and its legs along with its entrails. And you shall not leave any of it over until morning, but whatever is left of it until morning, you shall burn with fire.” — Exodus 12:9–10

The lamb was to be roasted whole — not raw, not boiled. It was eaten with unleavened bread and bitter herbs. Whatever remained by morning was to be burned completely. Nothing was to be left over. Nothing was to be wasted. God specified every detail of how this meal was to be prepared and consumed.

The text does not tell us why God required roasting rather than boiling, or why bitter herbs were included. What it tells us is that He required them. These were not suggestions. They were instructions from God for the most important night in Israel’s history, and He did not leave the menu to the household’s preference.

“Now you shall eat it in this manner: with your loins girded, your sandals on your feet, and your staff in your hand; and you shall eat it in haste — it is the Lord’s Passover.”

— Exodus 12:11

They ate standing up. Dressed for travel. Staff in hand. Ready to move the moment the word came. This was not a leisurely dinner. This was the meal of people who knew that before the night was over, everything was going to change.

The Leaven

There is one more instruction connected to this meal that deserves its own attention, because God gave it unusual weight.

“Seven days you shall eat unleavened bread, but on the first day you shall remove leaven from your houses; for whoever eats anything leavened from the first day until the seventh day, that person shall be cut off from Israel.”

— Exodus 12:15

“Seven days there shall be no leaven found in your houses; for whoever eats what is leavened, that person shall be cut off from the congregation of Israel, whether he is an alien or a native of the land. You shall not eat anything leavened; in all your dwellings you shall eat unleavened bread.” — Exodus 12:19–20

This was not a matter of convenience. It was a command — and the penalty for breaking it was being cut off from the people of God. Leaven was to be physically removed from the house. Not just avoided. Removed. For seven full days, no leaven was to be found anywhere in the dwelling. No exceptions. No distinction between Israelite and foreigner. Everyone under that roof lived without leaven for the duration.

It is worth noting that this command was given before the departure from Egypt. When the Israelites later left in haste and their dough had not risen (Exodus 12:39), that was the historical circumstance of the night. But the command to remove leaven and eat unleavened bread was already in place. God required it — it was not simply a result of being in a hurry.

The text does not tell us what the leaven represented. But centuries later, the apostle Paul — writing to Christians in Corinth — made a connection that reaches all the way back to this night:

“Clean out the old leaven so that you may be a new lump, just as you are in fact unleavened. For Christ our Passover also has been sacrificed. Therefore let us celebrate the feast, not with old leaven, nor with the leaven of malice and wickedness, but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth.”

— 1 Corinthians 5:7–8

Paul saw leaven as a picture of sin — something that works its way through the whole lump, something that must be removed, not merely managed. And he connected it directly to the Passover: “Christ our Passover also has been sacrificed.” The Passover lamb and the removal of leaven were part of the same event, the same night, the same set of instructions from God. Paul saw them as part of the same picture.

Whether Paul was revealing what God always intended by the leaven command or drawing a Spirit-guided application from it, we can say this much: the removal of leaven was serious enough that God attached the severest of consequences to it. It was not incidental. It was woven into the Passover from the beginning.

The Command to Remember

And then God did something that tells you this night was never meant to be a one-time event.

“Now this day will be a memorial to you, and you shall celebrate it as a feast to the Lord; throughout your generations you are to celebrate it as a permanent ordinance.”

— Exodus 12:14

A permanent ordinance. Throughout your generations. God commanded Israel to reenact this night every year, on the same date — Nisan 14 — so that no generation would ever forget. The lamb. The blood. The door. The death that passed over because a death had already taken place.

And they did. Every year for fifteen centuries, Israel killed a Passover lamb on Nisan 14. Every year the blood was shed. Every year the meal was eaten. Every year the story was retold — parents to children, generation after generation.

And every year, whether they fully understood it or not, they were rehearsing something that had not yet happened.

Because the Passover lamb was never the point.

It was the picture.

The Blueprint

Step back for a moment and look at what God laid out in Exodus 12. Not as ancient history — as a blueprint. An architectural drawing for something that would be built fifteen centuries later.

A lamb is selected on a specific day — the tenth of the month.

The lamb must be without blemish — no defect of any kind.

The lamb is kept for four days — from the tenth to the fourteenth.

The lamb is killed at a specific time — the afternoon of the fourteenth.

The blood must be applied — visibly, publicly, right there at the threshold between death and life.

The blood is what saves — not the merit of the household, not their track record, not their worthiness, but the blood on the door.

All leaven must be removed — completely, from every corner of the house, under penalty of being cut off.

And the event is to be remembered permanently — reenacted every year on the same date, so that when the real Lamb finally arrives, the pattern will be unmistakable.

I want you to hold this blueprint in your mind. Every detail. The day of selection. The four days of keeping. The requirement of perfection. The afternoon killing. The blood that makes the difference between life and death. The leaven that must be removed.

Because in the chapters ahead, we are going to open the final week of Jesus’ life and lay it beside this blueprint. And what we will find is not a loose resemblance. It is not a vague echo or a poetic parallel.

It is a point-by-point, day-by-day, hour-by-hour fulfillment — so precise that no human hand could have engineered it.

The pattern was set in Egypt. The fulfillment happened in Jerusalem. And the God who designed both is the same God who told Moses, on that first Passover night, to put the blood on the door.

That is what this book is about. Not a theory. Not an interpretation. A blueprint — and the Lamb who fulfilled it.

Chapter Two

The Lamb in Prophecy

In the last chapter, we stood in Egypt and watched God lay down a blueprint. A lamb selected on a specific day. Kept for four days. Without blemish. Killed at a specific hour. Its blood applied to the doorposts. And where there was blood, death passed over.

That blueprint was given to Moses approximately fifteen centuries before Jesus was born. And every year for those fifteen centuries, Israel reenacted it — selecting the lamb, killing it on Nisan 14, applying the blood, eating the meal, telling the story to their children.

But the blueprint was not the only preview God gave.

Seven hundred years before the cross, He gave something else — not a ritual to perform, but a portrait to read. Through the prophet Isaiah, God described in extraordinary detail what the coming deliverer would look like, what would happen to Him, and why. And the word Isaiah used to describe Him is the same word that connects everything in this book.

He called Him a lamb.

The Portrait No One Expected

To understand why Isaiah 53 was so shocking, you have to remember what Israel was expecting.

They were expecting a king. A conqueror. A ruler who would break the yoke of foreign oppression and restore the throne of David. The prophets had promised exactly that — a descendant of David whose kingdom would have no end (Isaiah 9:6–7), a ruler from Bethlehem whose origins were from eternity (Micah 5:2), a king to whom the obedience of the peoples would belong (Genesis 49:10).

And those promises were real. They were not metaphors. God meant every one of them.

But there was another thread running through the prophets — a thread that described something no one was looking for. Not a throne, but a cross. Not a crown of gold, but a crown of thorns. Not a conquering king, but a suffering servant.

Isaiah 53 is where that thread comes into full view.

Verse by Verse

What follows is Isaiah’s portrait, examined one section at a time. I want to walk through it slowly, because every line matters — and because these words, written seven centuries before the events they describe, will follow us through the rest of this book.

The Appearance — Isaiah 53:1–3

“Who has believed our message? And to whom has the arm of the LORD been revealed?”

— Isaiah 53:1

The chapter opens with a question that is almost a lament. Who believed this? Who saw it coming? The answer, for most of Israel, was no one. They were looking for power. What God sent looked like weakness.

“For He grew up before Him like a tender shoot, and like a root out of parched ground; He has no stately form or majesty that we should look upon Him, nor appearance that we should be attracted to Him.”

— Isaiah 53:2

A tender shoot. A root out of dry ground. Not a mighty cedar. Not a towering oak. Something small and unremarkable growing where nothing was expected to grow. There was nothing about His outward appearance that would have drawn a crowd. No royal bearing. No commanding presence. He looked ordinary.

“He was despised and forsaken of men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; and like one from whom men hide their face He was despised, and we did not esteem Him.”

— Isaiah 53:3

Despised. Forsaken. A man of sorrows. People turned away from Him. Not because He had done anything wrong — but because what He represented was not what they wanted. They wanted deliverance from Rome. He came to deliver them from something far worse.

This is the opening of the portrait. And it looks nothing like a king.

The Substitution — Isaiah 53:4–6

Here the portrait shifts from description to explanation. Isaiah does not merely describe what happened to this servant — he tells us why it happened. And the answer changes everything.

“Surely our griefs He Himself bore, and our sorrows He carried; yet we ourselves esteemed Him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted.”

— Isaiah 53:4

Notice the pronouns. Our griefs. He bore them. The people watching thought God was punishing Him for His own sins. They were wrong. He was carrying theirs.

“But He was pierced through for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the chastening for our well-being fell upon Him, and by His scourging we are healed.”

— Isaiah 53:5

Read that verse again, slowly. Every clause has a substitution in it. Pierced — for our transgressions. Crushed — for our iniquities. The chastening that should have fallen on us fell on Him. And by His wounds, we are healed.

This is not a king fighting for His people. This is a sacrifice dying in their place.

“All of us like sheep have gone astray, each of us has turned to his own way; but the LORD has caused the iniquity of us all to fall on Him.”

— Isaiah 53:6

“All of us.” No exceptions. Every person who has ever lived has gone astray — turned to his own way. That is the problem. And the solution is not that we find our way back. The solution is that the LORD — God Himself — caused the iniquity of all of us to fall on Him.

This is the heart of the portrait. The servant suffers — not for His own sins, but as a substitute for ours.

The Silence — Isaiah 53:7

“He was oppressed and He was afflicted, yet He did not open His mouth; like a lamb that is led to slaughter, and like a sheep that is silent before its shearers, so He did not open His mouth.”

— Isaiah 53:7

There it is. The word that connects everything.

Like a lamb.

Not fighting. Not protesting. Not pleading for His life. Led to slaughter — and silent. A sheep before its shearers does not resist. It does not cry out. It submits.

This is the verse that reaches back to Exodus 12 and reaches forward to the cross. The Passover lamb did not choose itself. It was selected by the household, kept by the household, and killed by the household. It had no say in the matter. It simply died so that someone else would live.

Isaiah says the servant will do the same thing. Willingly. Silently.

And he uses the word lamb to say it. Not warrior. Not judge. Not king. Lamb.

That word was not chosen carelessly. Isaiah had access to every image in the Hebrew language. He chose the one that God had already invested with fifteen centuries of meaning. Every Israelite who heard “lamb” would have thought of one thing — the Passover. The blood on the door. The death that saves.

The Death — Isaiah 53:8–9

“By oppression and judgment He was taken away; and as for His generation, who considered that He was cut off out of the land of the living for the transgression of my people, to whom the stroke was due?”

— Isaiah 53:8

“Cut off out of the land of the living.” That is death. Not exile, not imprisonment — death. And again, the text is specific about the reason: “for the transgression of my people, to whom the stroke was due.” The stroke — the punishment — belonged to the people. He received it instead.

“His grave was assigned with wicked men, yet He was with a rich man in His death, because He had done no violence, nor was there any deceit in His mouth.”

— Isaiah 53:9

His burial was planned among criminals — but it ended up with a rich man. And the reason given is His innocence: no violence, no deceit. He did not deserve what happened to Him. The text says so plainly.

When you read the Gospel accounts of the crucifixion, you will see these details fulfilled with startling precision. Jesus was crucified between two criminals (Matthew 27:38). His body was placed in the tomb of Joseph of Arimathea, a rich man (Matthew 27:57–60). He had done no violence. There was no deceit in His mouth.

Isaiah described these details seven hundred years before they happened.

The Purpose — Isaiah 53:10

“But the LORD was pleased to crush Him, putting Him to grief; if He would render Himself as a guilt offering, He will see His offspring, He will prolong His days, and the good pleasure of the LORD will prosper in His hand.”

— Isaiah 53:10

This is one of the most staggering verses in all of Scripture, and it deserves careful attention.

First: “The LORD was pleased to crush Him.” This was not an accident. It was not a tragedy that spun out of control. It was the deliberate purpose of God. The Father sent the Son to be crushed — and in that crushing, God’s pleasure was accomplished. Not pleasure in suffering for its own sake, but pleasure in what the suffering would achieve.

Second: “If He would render Himself as a guilt offering.” The word is asham — the guilt offering prescribed in the Law of Moses (Leviticus 5:14–6:7). The guilt offering was specifically for making restitution. It was the sacrifice that paid what was owed. Isaiah is saying that the servant’s death would function as a guilt offering — paying the debt that the people owed but could not pay.

Third — and this is the part that should stop you in your tracks: “He will see His offspring, He will prolong His days.”

He will prolong His days. After being cut off from the land of the living. After dying. After being buried.

He will live again.

Isaiah is describing — seven hundred years in advance — a death that is not the end. The servant will die as a guilt offering, and then He will see offspring and prolong His days. The death is real. And so is what comes after it.

The Outcome — Isaiah 53:11–12

“As a result of the anguish of His soul, He will see it and be satisfied; by His knowledge the Righteous One, My Servant, will justify the many, as He will bear their iniquities.”

— Isaiah 53:11

“The Righteous One.” Not a righteous one — the Righteous One. Singular. Perfect. And what does He do? He justifies the many. Not by their merit — by His. He bears their iniquities. The sin is transferred. The record is cleared. And when He sees the result of His anguish, He is satisfied. It was worth it.

“Therefore, I will allot Him a portion with the great, and He will divide the booty with the strong; because He poured out Himself to death, and was numbered with the transgressors; yet He Himself bore the sin of many, and interceded for the transgressors.”

— Isaiah 53:12

The final verse is a summary of the entire portrait. He poured out Himself to death — voluntarily. He was numbered with transgressors — counted as one of them. He bore the sin of many — the substitution again. And He interceded for the transgressors — He stood between them and the judgment they deserved.

The Portrait Complete

Step back and see what Isaiah has drawn.

A man of sorrows, rejected by the people He came to save. Pierced for their transgressions. Crushed for their iniquities. Silent before His accusers — like a lamb led to slaughter. Cut off from the land of the living. Buried with the wicked, yet in a rich man’s tomb. Rendered as a guilt offering. And then — after all of that — He prolongs His days. He lives again. He sees offspring. He is satisfied.

This is not a vague sketch. This is a detailed portrait, drawn seven centuries before the subject arrived. And every line of it — every detail — will come into focus in the final week of Jesus’ life.

The Bridge — John 1:29

For seven hundred years, that portrait waited. Israel read it. They debated it. Many applied it to the nation of Israel rather than to a single individual. Others recognized a suffering figure but could not reconcile Him with the conquering king they expected. The portrait was there in the text, but its meaning remained veiled.

Then one day, on the banks of the Jordan River, a prophet named John — the last of the Old Testament-style prophets — saw Jesus of Nazareth walking toward him. And John said six words that connected every thread in this book:

“Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!”

— John 1:29

Think about the weight of that statement.

John did not say “Behold, the King.” He did not say “Behold, the Prophet.” He did not say “Behold, the Teacher.” He said the Lamb of God.

In one sentence, John reached back to Exodus 12 — the lamb whose blood saved Israel from death. He reached back to Isaiah 53 — the lamb led to slaughter, silent, bearing the sin of others. And he pointed both of those threads at a specific man standing in front of him.

That one. He is the Lamb.

And not just any lamb. The Lamb of God. The Passover lambs belonged to the households that selected them. This Lamb belonged to God. The Passover lambs died for one family. This Lamb takes away the sin of the world.

The next day, John saw Jesus again and repeated it:

“Behold, the Lamb of God!”

— John 1:36

He said it twice. He wanted it on the record.

Two Portraits of the Same Lamb

In the last chapter, we looked at the blueprint God gave Moses in Exodus 12 — the Passover lamb, with its selection day, its four-day keeping period, its requirement of perfection, its afternoon killing, and its blood that saves.

In this chapter, we have looked at the portrait God gave Isaiah — the suffering servant, despised and rejected, pierced for our transgressions, silent as a lamb before slaughter, rendered as a guilt offering, and then — impossibly — alive again.

These are not two different plans. They are two views of the same plan.

Exodus 12 gave the ritual — what to do. The selection, the keeping, the killing, the blood on the door. It was the pattern, performed year after year, so that when the reality arrived, the shape would be recognizable.

Isaiah 53 gave the meaning — why it would happen. The sin that needed to be borne. The substitution. The guilt offering. The anguish and the satisfaction. It was the explanation, written centuries in advance, so that when the events unfolded, no one could say it was an accident.

And John 1:29 gave the identification — who it was. A specific man. Standing on a specific riverbank. Identified by a specific prophet. That one. He is the Lamb.

The blueprint. The portrait. The identification. Three witnesses, separated by centuries, all pointing in the same direction.

In the chapters ahead, we are going to watch every detail come together in a single week. The Lamb of God — selected on the day the blueprint specified, examined for the number of days the blueprint required, found without blemish by every authority who tested Him, and killed at the hour the blueprint appointed.

But before we step into that week, there is one more thing you need to understand — something about the calendar those events are built on. Because the Hebrew calendar works differently from ours, and if you miss those differences, the timeline will not make sense.

That is where we turn next.

Interlude

Understanding the Hebrew Calendar

A Brief Guide Before We Enter the Week

Before we step into the final week of Jesus’ life, there is something we need to talk about — something that most modern readers have never been taught, but that the Gospel writers assumed their readers already knew.

The events we are about to trace — the entry into Jerusalem, the Last Supper, the crucifixion, the burial, the empty tomb — are all tied to specific dates on the Hebrew calendar. If you do not understand how that calendar works, the timeline will not make sense. Details that seem contradictory will turn out to be perfectly consistent — but only if you know the rules the Gospel writers were working with.

There are two differences between the Hebrew calendar and our modern Western calendar that matter most. Miss either one, and the week will be confusing. Understand both, and everything falls into place.

The Day Begins at Sundown

In our culture, a new day begins at midnight. Tuesday ends at 11:59 PM, and Wednesday begins at 12:00 AM. The transition happens in the middle of the night while most of us are asleep, so we naturally think of a “day” as starting when we wake up in the morning.

In the Hebrew calendar, a new day begins at sundown — roughly six in the evening. This is not an arbitrary tradition. It comes directly from the creation account:

“And there was evening and there was morning, one day.”

— Genesis 1:5

Evening comes first. Then morning. Every day of creation follows this same pattern. The Hebrew day was always evening first, then daylight — night, then day.

This means that what we would call “Tuesday evening” was actually the beginning of Wednesday in Jewish reckoning. When the Gospel accounts describe Jesus eating the Passover meal “on the first day of Unleavened Bread” (Matthew 26:17), that meal took place in the evening — what we would think of as the night before, but which was actually the beginning of the new day.

A simple comparison helps:

In our Western reckoning, Tuesday runs from midnight to midnight, and Wednesday runs from midnight to midnight. In Hebrew reckoning, Tuesday runs from sundown Monday evening to sundown Tuesday evening, and Wednesday runs from sundown Tuesday evening to sundown Wednesday evening.

So when this book says Jesus ate the Passover meal on the evening that began Nisan 14, it means He ate it at what we would call Tuesday evening — but in Jewish reckoning, sundown Tuesday was already the beginning of the next day. This is not a contradiction. It is simply a different starting point for the day — and it is the starting point that Scripture itself establishes in Genesis 1.

This will matter more than you expect. Hold onto it.

The Months Are Lunar

The modern Western calendar uses twelve months of fixed length — January through December — based on a solar year of approximately 365 days. The dates are the same every year. January 1 is always January 1.

The Hebrew calendar is based on lunar cycles. Each month begins with the new moon, so months are approximately 29 or 30 days long. Because a lunar year is about eleven days shorter than a solar year, the Hebrew calendar periodically adds a thirteenth month to stay aligned with the seasons.

The practical result is that Hebrew dates do not fall on the same Western dates each year. Nisan 14 — the Passover — might fall in late March one year and mid-April the next.

For our purposes, only one month matters: Nisan, the first month of the Hebrew religious calendar. God established it at the time of the Exodus:

“This month shall be the beginning of months for you; it is to be the first month of the year to you.”

— Exodus 12:2

Every event from Jesus’ arrival in Bethany through the discovery of the empty tomb takes place within Nisan. The key dates are the ones we already encountered in Exodus 12:

Nisan 10 — The Passover lamb is selected and set apart (Exodus 12:3).

Nisan 14 — The Passover lamb is killed “at twilight” — the afternoon hours (Exodus 12:6). The blood is applied to the doorposts. The lamb is eaten that evening as the day transitions into Nisan 15.

Nisan 15 — The first day of the Feast of Unleavened Bread. This is a “holy convocation” — a commanded Sabbath rest, regardless of what day of the week it falls on (Leviticus 23:6–7).

Nisan 15–21 — The seven days of the Feast of Unleavened Bread (Leviticus 23:6).

These dates form the skeleton of the week we are about to examine. They are fixed on the Hebrew calendar — Nisan 14 is always Nisan 14 — but they can fall on any day of our week, just as our own holidays sometimes fall on a Tuesday, sometimes on a Thursday. Which day of the week these dates landed on in the year of the crucifixion is one of the most important questions in this book, and we will address it carefully when we get there.

Two Kinds of Sabbath

This is perhaps the single most important detail for understanding what happened between the crucifixion and the resurrection. If you take nothing else from this section, take this.

Most people know only one Sabbath — the weekly Sabbath, the seventh day of the week, Saturday. It was established at creation and commanded in the Ten Commandments:

“Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy.”

— Exodus 20:8

This Sabbath occurs every week without exception. It is part of the rhythm of creation itself.

But the Law of Moses also established additional Sabbath rest days tied to specific feast days — days that functioned as Sabbaths regardless of what day of the week they fell on. These are sometimes called “high days” or “annual Sabbaths.”

“Then on the fifteenth day of the same month there is the Feast of Unleavened Bread to the LORD; for seven days you shall eat unleavened bread. On the first day you shall have a holy convocation; you shall not do any laborious work.”

— Leviticus 23:6–7

The first day of Unleavened Bread — Nisan 15 — was a commanded rest day, a Sabbath, no matter what day of the week it fell on. If it fell on a Thursday, Thursday was a Sabbath that week. If it fell on a Tuesday, Tuesday was a Sabbath. The day of the week did not matter. The date on the Hebrew calendar did.

This means that in any given week during the Passover season, it was entirely possible to have two Sabbaths — the feast-day Sabbath tied to the calendar date and the regular weekly Sabbath on Saturday. They could fall on the same day, or they could fall on different days with ordinary working days in between.

Why does this matter? Because when you read the word “Sabbath” in the Gospel accounts, you cannot automatically assume it means Saturday. It might mean Saturday. Or it might mean a feast-day Sabbath that fell on a completely different day of the week.

John makes this distinction explicit. When he describes the Sabbath that followed the crucifixion, he goes out of his way to add a qualifier:

“Then the Jews, because it was the day of preparation, so that the bodies would not remain on the cross on the Sabbath (for that Sabbath was a high day)…”

— John 19:31

John did not have to add those words. He could have simply written “the Sabbath.” But he flagged it — that Sabbath was a high day. Not the regular weekly Sabbath. A feast-day Sabbath. He wanted his readers to know the difference, because the difference matters.

We will come back to this passage and unpack what it means for the timeline. For now, just hold onto the distinction: there were two kinds of Sabbath, and the week of the crucifixion could have contained both.

Three Things to Remember

As you read the chapters ahead, keep three things in mind:

First, the day begins at sundown. An evening meal belongs to the next day, not the day that is ending. When we say something happened “on the evening that began Nisan 14,” we mean what you would think of as the previous evening — but which, in Hebrew reckoning, was already the start of the new day.

Second, Nisan is the first month of the Hebrew religious calendar, falling roughly in our late March through mid-April. Every event in the final week takes place within Nisan — specifically between Nisan 9 and Nisan 17.

Third, there were two kinds of Sabbath — the weekly Sabbath (Saturday) and feast-day Sabbaths tied to God’s appointed times. When the Gospel accounts mention “the Sabbath,” you will need to ask which kind is being described. The answer changes everything.

With those three things in mind, the Gospel accounts fit together with remarkable clarity. The timeline makes sense. The apparent contradictions disappear. And the precision of what God did in that week becomes unmistakable.

Let’s step into the week.

All Scripture quotations are from the New American Standard Bible (NASB).

Part Two

The Week

Chapter Three

The Arrival and the Selection

We are about to step into the most important week in human history. But before we can walk through it day by day, we need to establish where the week begins — and to do that, we need to follow the time markers that the Gospel writers left us.

Two of the four Gospel writers give us specific markers that allow us to anchor the events of this week to particular days. Mark gives us a chain of “next day” references that link one event to the next. John gives us a numerical count — “six days before the Passover” — that places Jesus at a specific location on a specific day. When we follow both paths independently, something remarkable happens.

They land on the same day.

Let’s trace them one at a time.

John’s Count — “Six Days Before the Passover”

“Jesus, therefore, six days before the Passover, came to Bethany where Lazarus was, whom Jesus had raised from the dead.”

— John 12:1

“So they made Him a supper there, and Martha was serving; but Lazarus was one of those reclining at the table with Him.” — John 12:2

Jesus arrives in Bethany — the village just outside Jerusalem where Lazarus, Mary, and Martha lived. A supper is held. Mary anoints Jesus’ feet with costly perfume (John 12:3). This is a specific event at a specific location, and John anchors it to a specific time: six days before the Passover.

To determine what day this is, we need to answer two questions. First, what does John mean by “the Passover”? And second, how do we count “six days before”?

What Is the Reference Point?

Throughout his passion narrative, John uses “the Passover” to refer to Nisan 14 — the day the Passover lamb is killed. This is consistent with how Exodus 12 defines it and with how John uses the term elsewhere in his Gospel (John 2:13; 6:4; 11:55; 18:28; 19:14). We will take Nisan 14 as the reference point.

How Do We Count?

Jewish reckoning typically used inclusive counting — the starting day is counted as day one. This pattern appears throughout the Old Testament. When someone said “on the third day,” the day they were currently on was day one. Compare 2 Chronicles 10:5 and 10:12, where “after three days” and “on the third day” are used to describe the same event. The starting day is part of the count.

Counting backward from Nisan 14 inclusively:

Count | Nisan Date | Weekday
Day 1 | Nisan 14 | Wednesday (the Passover — our reference point)
Day 2 | Nisan 13 | Tuesday
Day 3 | Nisan 12 | Monday
Day 4 | Nisan 11 | Sunday
Day 5 | Nisan 10 | Saturday
Day 6 | Nisan 9 | Friday

The inclusive count places Jesus’ arrival in Bethany on Friday, Nisan 9.

The supper takes place that evening. And here is where the calendar we just discussed becomes important. In Hebrew reckoning, Friday evening after sundown is no longer Friday — it is the beginning of Nisan 10, the Sabbath. The supper at Lazarus’s house is a Sabbath meal. Martha serving at a Sabbath meal was not unusual — it was customary. Sabbath meals were prepared in advance, and serving them involved no prohibited labor.

The Next Day

“On the next day the large crowd who had come to the feast, when they heard that Jesus was coming to Jerusalem, took the branches of the palm trees and went out to meet Him…”

— John 12:12

“On the next day” after the Friday arrival and the evening supper. The next day is Saturday — Nisan 10. And this is the day the crowd goes out to meet Jesus as He enters Jerusalem.

John’s count gives us a clear result: Jesus arrives in Bethany on Friday (Nisan 9), shares a Sabbath meal that evening, and enters Jerusalem the next day — Saturday, Nisan 10.

Mark’s Sequence — Working Backward

Mark’s Gospel provides the other path to the same day. Mark does not give us a numerical count from the Passover. Instead, he gives us something equally valuable: a chain of relative time markers — “the next day,” “in the morning,” “two days before” — that link one event to the next like links in a chain.

To use Mark’s chain, we need a fixed point to start from. As we will demonstrate in detail in Chapter 10, the text requires that the crucifixion occurred on a Wednesday — Nisan 14. The full evidence for that conclusion — including the three-days-and-three-nights requirement and the two-Sabbath spice sequence — is laid out there. For now, we will use it as our anchor and trace Mark’s chain backward.

“Two Days Before” — Mark 14:1

“Now the Passover and Unleavened Bread were two days away; and the chief priests and the scribes were seeking how to seize Him by stealth and kill Him.”

— Mark 14:1

If the Passover (Nisan 14) is Wednesday, “two days away” places this statement on Monday — Nisan 12. This falls at the end of a block of teaching and confrontation in the temple.

“In the Morning” — Mark 11:20

“As they were passing by in the morning, they saw the fig tree withered from the roots up.”

— Mark 11:20

This is the morning after Jesus cursed the fig tree. The disciples see it withered, and the day continues with teaching in the temple. If this is Monday morning (Nisan 12), then the fig tree was cursed the previous day — Sunday, Nisan 11.

“On the Next Day” — Mark 11:12

“On the next day, when they had left Bethany, He was hungry.”

— Mark 11:12

This is the day Jesus cursed the fig tree and cleansed the temple (Mark 11:15–17). Mark calls it “the next day” — the next day after what? After the entry into Jerusalem described in Mark 11:1–11.

If this day — the fig tree and the temple cleansing — is Sunday (Nisan 11), then the entry into Jerusalem was the day before: Saturday, Nisan 10.

Mark’s Result

Working backward through the chain: Wednesday (Passover) → Monday (“two days before”) → Sunday (fig tree cursed, temple cleansed) → Saturday (the entry into Jerusalem).

Mark’s sequence places the entry on Saturday, Nisan 10.

Two Paths, One Day

John counts forward from a specific event — Jesus’ arrival in Bethany — and places the entry into Jerusalem on the next day, which his “six days before the Passover” count identifies as Saturday, Nisan 10.

Mark traces backward from the Passover through a chain of “next day” markers and lands on the same day — Saturday, Nisan 10.

These two Gospel writers, working from different starting points with different methods, arrive at the same conclusion independently. Neither one is borrowing from the other. Neither one is adjusting to fit the other. They simply converge.

When two independent witnesses point to the same day through completely different paths, the convergence is significant. It does not guarantee the conclusion — we are still working with inferences built on time markers. But two independent paths arriving at the same destination is considerably stronger than one path alone.

What Happened That Day

Now that we know the day, let’s look at what the text says Jesus actually did when He entered Jerusalem.

The entry itself is recorded in all four Gospels (Matthew 21:1–11; Mark 11:1–11; Luke 19:28–44; John 12:12–19). Jesus rides into Jerusalem on a donkey. The crowds spread garments on the road and wave palm branches. They shout:

“Hosanna to the Son of David; blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord; Hosanna in the highest!”

— Matthew 21:9

The scene is exuberant. The crowd is responding to Jesus as the Messiah. The Pharisees are alarmed:

“Teacher, rebuke Your disciples.”

— Luke 19:39

But then Mark adds a detail that is easy to overlook — and it matters enormously:

“Jesus entered Jerusalem and came into the temple; and after looking around at everything, He left for Bethany with the twelve, since it was already late.”

— Mark 11:11

He entered. He looked around. He left. That is the full extent of His activity in the temple that day.

No teaching. No confrontation. No driving out merchants. No overturning tables. He came, He observed, and He withdrew to Bethany because it was late.

Why? If the money changers were set up right in front of Him — the same money changers He would drive out the very next day — why would He simply look around and leave?

The most natural explanation is that it was the Sabbath. The commercial activity was not happening. The merchants were not operating. There was nothing to confront. He entered, He saw the temple as it was on the rest day, and He returned to Bethany. The action begins “the next day” (Mark 11:12) — when the Sabbath is over and the merchants are back at their tables.

The Sabbath Entry — Addressed Honestly

If the entry into Jerusalem was on the Sabbath, does that create a problem? Did Jesus or the crowd violate the Sabbath?

This is a fair question, and it deserves an honest answer.

Consider what Jesus Himself actually did. He rode a donkey from Bethany to Jerusalem. Bethany was less than two miles from Jerusalem — within what Acts 1:12 calls “a Sabbath day’s journey.” Riding a donkey was not considered labor under the Law. He entered the temple, looked around, and returned to Bethany. No work. No commerce. No confrontation.

Now consider the crowd. They laid garments on the road — which is no more labor than removing a cloak from your back. John 12:13 says they “took the branches of the palm trees.” The Greek word (elabon) means “took” — not necessarily “cut.” They may have taken branches that were already available. Mark 11:8 does describe some cutting leafy branches from the fields, but these are the crowd’s actions, not His. And even so, the Pharisees — who watched Jesus like hawks for any Sabbath violation — raised no Sabbath objection.

That silence is significant. The Pharisees had previously challenged Jesus for healing on the Sabbath (Mark 3:1–6; Luke 13:10–17; 14:1–6; John 5:1–18; 9:1–16). They were looking for violations. They wanted ammunition. If the entry had constituted a Sabbath violation, they would have seized on it immediately.

What did they actually say?

“Teacher, rebuke Your disciples.”

— Luke 19:39

They objected to the messianic claims — the shouts, the “Hosanna,” the implication that Jesus was the King. They did not object to any Sabbath-breaking activity. From the very people who scrutinized His every move on the rest day, there is not one word about a Sabbath violation.

Testing the Alternative

For thoroughness, we should test the alternative counting method. If we use exclusive counting — where the Passover itself is day zero rather than day one — then “six days before” Nisan 14 would be Nisan 8, a Thursday. Jesus arrives in Bethany on Thursday. “On the next day” (John 12:12) would be Friday. The entry into Jerusalem would be on Friday.

This creates a practical problem. In Mark’s sequence, “the next day” after the entry is when Jesus cursed the fig tree and cleansed the temple (Mark 11:12–17). If the entry is Friday, then the temple cleansing falls on Saturday — the weekly Sabbath.

The temple cleansing involved overturning tables, driving out merchants, and stopping people from carrying goods through the temple courts (Mark 11:15–16). On the weekly Sabbath, the commercial activity that Jesus confronted would not have been operating. The money changers and dove sellers worked on working days, especially in the days leading up to the feast when demand was highest. A Sabbath temple cleansing does not work practically — there would have been no merchants to drive out.

The inclusive count avoids this problem entirely. If the entry is Saturday and “the next day” is Sunday, the temple cleansing falls on an ordinary working day when the merchants would have been in full operation.

This practical test favors the inclusive count. And the inclusive count is consistent with standard Jewish reckoning as seen elsewhere in Scripture.

The Day the Lamb Was Selected

There is one more detail about this day that we need to notice — not because the Gospel writers state it, but because Exodus 12 does.

“Speak to all the congregation of Israel, saying, ‘On the tenth of this month they are each one to take a lamb for themselves, according to their fathers’ households, a lamb for each household.’”

— Exodus 12:3

Nisan 10 was the day the Passover lamb was selected. Every household in Israel went to the flock, chose a lamb, and set it apart. From that day forward, the lamb belonged to the household. It had been chosen for a purpose.

And on this day — Nisan 10 — Jesus of Nazareth rides into Jerusalem. The crowds receive Him. They spread garments and branches before Him. They shout the messianic greeting. He enters the temple. He is presented to the nation.

On the exact day that God commanded the lamb to be selected, the Lamb of God enters the city where He will be killed.

I want to be honest about what this is. No Gospel writer says “Jesus entered Jerusalem on Nisan 10.” We arrive at that date by counting backward through the time markers — through John’s numerical count and Mark’s “next day” chain. The connection to Exodus 12:3 is a typological inference. The Gospel writers do not draw the parallel explicitly.

But when two independent counts — from two different Gospel writers using two different methods — both land on Nisan 10, and Nisan 10 happens to be the exact day that God commanded the Passover lamb to be selected fifteen centuries earlier, the convergence is worth pausing over.

We noted at the end of the last chapter that John the Baptist called Jesus “the Lamb of God” (John 1:29). Isaiah described Him as “a lamb that is led to slaughter” (Isaiah 53:7). The blueprint in Exodus 12 began with selection on the tenth day of the month.

And here He is. Riding into Jerusalem. Received by the people. Presented at the temple. On the tenth day of the month.

The blueprint said the lamb would be selected on this day. The Lamb was.

The Evening

After entering the temple and looking around at everything, Jesus returned to Bethany with the twelve (Mark 11:11). The day was ending. The Sabbath was drawing to a close.

But the week was just beginning.

The next morning, when the Sabbath was over and the working days resumed, the Lamb who had been selected would begin to be examined. And every authority in Israel — religious and civil — would get the chance to search for a blemish.

They would not find one.

Chapter Four

Leaves Without Fruit

The Sabbath was over. The Lamb had been selected. And now the working days began.

“On the next day, when they had left Bethany, He was hungry.”

— Mark 11:12

Mark’s time marker is simple and specific: “on the next day.” The next day after the entry into Jerusalem. The next day after the Sabbath. Sunday — Nisan 11.

Jesus and the twelve are walking from Bethany toward Jerusalem. It is morning, and He is hungry. What happens next unfolds in two scenes — one on the road and one in the temple — and together they form one of the most striking days in the Gospel accounts.

The Fig Tree

“Seeing at a distance a fig tree in leaf, He went to see if perhaps He would find anything on it; and when He came to it, He found nothing but leaves, for it was not the season for figs.”

— Mark 11:13

Mark tells us plainly: it was not the season for figs. The fruit was not expected yet. But the tree was in leaf — and that detail matters. In the climate of Judea, fig trees produce small early fruit (called taqsh or breba figs) that appear before or alongside the leaves. A fig tree in full leaf was advertising that it had something to offer. The leaves were the promise. But when Jesus reached the tree, there was nothing behind the promise. Leaves and no fruit. Appearance without substance.

“He said to it, ‘May no one ever eat fruit from you again!’ And His disciples were listening.”

— Mark 11:14

Jesus cursed the tree. The disciples heard Him say it. And then the group continued toward Jerusalem.

Mark does not tell us why Jesus cursed the tree. He does not explain it as a parable or draw a moral from it. He simply records what happened — and then immediately takes us into the temple. The placement is Mark’s. What the reader does with it is the reader’s own.

But the placement is hard to ignore. A tree covered in leaves, presenting every sign of life and fruitfulness, yet producing nothing — standing just minutes before Jesus walks into a temple that was supposed to be the house of God and finds it full of commerce instead of prayer. The parallel is there for anyone willing to see it, even though Mark never states it in so many words.

We will not overstate what the text does not say. Mark does not call the fig tree a symbol. He does not say “this tree represents Israel.” He tells us what happened, and he tells us what happened next. We are free to notice the connection. We are not free to claim the text makes it explicit.

The Temple

“Then they came to Jerusalem. And He entered the temple and began to drive out those who were buying and selling in the temple, and overturned the tables of the money changers and the seats of those who were selling doves; and He would not permit anyone to carry merchandise through the temple.”

— Mark 11:15–16

This was not a quiet visit. This was not the restrained observation of the day before. Yesterday — the Sabbath — Jesus had entered the temple, looked around at everything, and left (Mark 11:11). Today He acts.

The difference matters. On the Sabbath, the commercial operation would not have been running. The money changers and dove sellers worked on the days leading up to the feast, when pilgrims were arriving from across the empire and needed to exchange foreign currency for temple-approved coins, and when families needed to purchase animals for sacrifice. The Sabbath was a rest day — the tables would have been empty, the merchants absent.

But Sunday was a working day. The merchants were back. The tables were set up. The commerce was in full swing. And Jesus walked in and shut it down.

He overturned the tables. He overturned the seats. He physically stopped people from carrying goods through the temple courts. And then He told them why:

“And He began to teach and say to them, ‘Is it not written, “My house shall be called a house of prayer for all the nations”? But you have made it a robbers’ den.’”

— Mark 11:17

Two Old Testament passages, spoken together. The first is from Isaiah:

“For My house will be called a house of prayer for all the peoples.”

— Isaiah 56:7

The second is from Jeremiah, spoken to the people of Judah centuries earlier when they treated the temple as a safe house while living in disobedience:

“Has this house, which is called by My name, become a den of robbers in your sight?”

— Jeremiah 7:11

Jesus did not invent a new accusation. He quoted God’s own words — words the religious leaders would have known by heart — and applied them directly to what was happening in front of Him. The temple was supposed to be a house of prayer for all nations. They had turned it into a marketplace. And not just any marketplace — a den of robbers, the phrase Jeremiah used when God was warning that judgment was coming if the people did not change.

The Response

“The chief priests and the scribes heard this, and began seeking how to destroy Him; for they were afraid of Him, for the whole crowd was astonished at His teaching.”

— Mark 11:18

The reaction was not repentance. It was not even debate. It was fear — and a decision to destroy Him. The chief priests and the scribes heard what Jesus said, saw how the crowd responded, and concluded that He had to be eliminated.

Mark does not record a formal charge at this point. No one stands up and says “You have violated such-and-such law.” The leaders do not challenge His reading of Isaiah or Jeremiah. They do not argue that the temple commerce was legitimate. They simply begin looking for a way to kill Him.

What the chief priests and scribes did not realize was that in seeking to destroy Him, they were about to subject Him to the most thorough examination any man had ever faced — and that every attempt to find fault would fail.

“When evening came, they would go out of the city.”

— Mark 11:19

The day ended. Jesus and the twelve left Jerusalem again, returning to Bethany or the surrounding area as they had the evening before. The pattern was consistent throughout this week: days in the city, evenings outside it.

A Note on Matthew and Luke

Matthew and Luke both record the temple cleansing, but neither one places it on a specific day separate from the entry. Matthew moves directly from the entry narrative to the cleansing without a time break (Matthew 21:1–13). Luke does the same (Luke 19:28–46). If you read Matthew or Luke alone, you might conclude that the entry and the cleansing happened on the same day.

Mark tells us otherwise. Mark places the entry on one day (11:1–11), records that Jesus looked around and left, and then says the fig tree and cleansing occurred “on the next day” (11:12). Mark provides the chronological sequence. Matthew and Luke provide the same events but compress them narratively — moving from entry to cleansing without specifying that a night passed between them.

This is a difference in literary arrangement, not a contradiction. Matthew is widely recognized as organizing his material topically rather than in strict chronological order. Luke, while generally sequential, does not provide a time marker between the entry and the cleansing. Neither of them says “on the same day.” They simply move from one event to the next without a time gap — which is different from saying no time gap existed.

Mark, who gives us the most detailed chronological backbone of any Gospel writer for this week, is the one who separates the events with an explicit “on the next day.” We follow his sequence — not because Mark is more authoritative than Matthew or Luke, but because Mark is the one who provides the time markers. Where one account gives a sequence and another gives no sequence, we follow the account that gives the sequence.

The Fig Tree in Matthew

Matthew’s account of the fig tree also compresses the timeline. In Mark, the fig tree is cursed on one day (11:14) and found withered the next morning (11:20). In Matthew, the cursing and the withering appear in the same scene:

“And at once the fig tree withered.”

— Matthew 21:19

“Seeing this, the disciples were amazed and asked, ‘How did the fig tree wither all at once?’“ — Matthew 21:20

Mark tells us the disciples noticed it withered the following morning (Mark 11:20). Matthew presents the cursing and the reaction together as one unit. This is the same kind of narrative compression we see with the temple cleansing — Matthew groups related events together; Mark separates them by day.

Neither approach is wrong. They are simply different ways of telling the same story. A biographer who writes “He quit his job and moved to another city” has not claimed both happened on the same afternoon. He has grouped two related events into one sentence. Matthew does the same thing with the fig tree.

The important point is that no detail in Matthew contradicts Mark’s sequence. Matthew’s “in the morning, when He was returning to the city” (21:18) is consistent with a new day — the same “next day” that Mark specifies.

What This Day Tells Us

Sunday, Nisan 11, was the first working day after the Lamb entered Jerusalem. And on this day, two things happened that frame everything that follows.

First, Jesus encountered a tree that had every outward appearance of fruitfulness — leaves in full display — but nothing behind the appearance. He cursed it. Mark will tell us in the next chapter that by the following morning, it was dead to the roots (Mark 11:20).

Second, Jesus entered the temple — the place where God’s presence was supposed to dwell, the place that was supposed to be a house of prayer for all nations — and found it overtaken by commerce. He drove out the merchants and quoted God’s own prophets to explain why.

Both scenes are about the same thing: the difference between appearance and reality. Between looking alive and bearing fruit. Between being called by God’s name and actually serving God’s purpose.

The chief priests and scribes saw it. They heard the crowd’s response. And they began planning how to destroy Him.

The Lamb had been in the household for one day. Exodus 12 does not tell us why God required the lamb to be kept for four days — only that He required it. But what the Gospels tell us is that during the days between the entry and the crucifixion, every authority group in Israel would confront Jesus, question Him, and search for something to hold against Him. Whether God designed the four-day keeping period for this purpose, we cannot say — the text does not tell us. But the correspondence between the days the lamb was kept and the days the Lamb was tested is striking, and it unfolds across the chapters ahead.

Tomorrow, every authority group in Israel would take its turn. Pharisees. Sadducees. Scribes. Herodians. Each one with a question designed to trap Him.

None of them would succeed.

Chapter Five

The Lamb Is Examined

“As they were passing by in the morning, they saw the fig tree withered from the roots up.”

— Mark 11:20

It was Monday morning — Nisan 12. Jesus and the disciples were walking from Bethany to Jerusalem, the same road they had traveled the day before. And there stood the fig tree — the one with all those leaves and no fruit. Yesterday it had been alive. This morning it was dead. Not wilted. Not fading. Withered from the roots up.

Peter remembered:

“Rabbi, look, the fig tree which You cursed has withered.”

— Mark 11:21

Jesus used the moment to teach about faith and prayer (Mark 11:22–26). But the fig tree itself was finished. It had been weighed — leaves without fruit, appearance without substance — and it had been found wanting. They passed it and continued into the city.

What awaited them in the temple would be the longest and most intense day of confrontation in the Gospel accounts. Every major authority group in Israel would take its turn questioning Jesus. And by the end of the day, not one of them would have laid a hand on Him — because not one of them could find a legitimate charge against Him.

The Authority Question

They arrived at the temple, and the confrontation began immediately.

“They came again to Jerusalem. And as He was walking in the temple, the chief priests and the scribes and the elders came to Him, and began saying to Him, ‘By what authority are You doing these things, or who gave You this authority to do these things?’”

— Mark 11:27–28

This was the ruling council — the men who controlled the temple, who managed its operations, who had the institutional power to authorize (or forbid) what happened in its courts. Yesterday Jesus had walked in and overturned their tables, driven out their merchants, and quoted God’s prophets against them. Now they wanted to know: Who gave You the right?

Jesus answered with a question of His own:

“I will ask you one question, and you answer Me, and then I will tell you by what authority I do these things. Was the baptism of John from heaven, or from men? Answer Me.”

— Mark 11:29–30

They were trapped. Mark records their private calculation:

“They began reasoning among themselves, saying, ‘If we say, “From heaven,” He will say, “Then why did you not believe him?” But shall we say, “From men”?’ — they were afraid of the people, for everyone considered John to have been a real prophet.”

— Mark 11:31–32

They could not answer honestly without condemning themselves. So they refused to answer at all:

“And answering Jesus, they said, ‘We do not know.’ And Jesus said to them, ‘Nor will I tell you by what authority I do these things.’”

— Mark 11:33

The first test. The chief priests, scribes, and elders — the men with the greatest institutional authority in Israel — could not answer a single question from the man they were interrogating. They walked away.

The Tax Trap

The next group came with a question designed not just to challenge Him, but to destroy Him — regardless of which way He answered.

“Then they sent some of the Pharisees and Herodians to Him in order to trap Him in a statement.”

— Mark 12:13

Notice the coalition. Pharisees and Herodians were political opponents. The Pharisees resented Roman occupation; the Herodians supported the ruling dynasty that cooperated with Rome. Under normal circumstances, these two groups would never work together. But they had a common enemy now, and they had crafted a question with no safe answer:

“Is it lawful to pay a poll-tax to Caesar, or not? Shall we pay or shall we not pay?”

— Mark 12:14–15

If Jesus said yes, He would alienate the Jewish crowds who hated the Roman tax. If He said no, He could be reported to Rome for sedition. Either answer would give them what they wanted.

“But He, knowing their hypocrisy, said to them, ‘Why are you testing Me? Bring Me a denarius to look at.’ They brought one. And He said to them, ‘Whose likeness and inscription is this?’ And they said to Him, ‘Caesar’s.’ And Jesus said to them, ‘Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s.’”

— Mark 12:15–17

Matthew records the result:

“And hearing this, they were amazed, and leaving Him, they went away.”

— Matthew 22:22

The second test. The Pharisees and Herodians — political opponents who had combined their best minds to construct an unanswerable question — walked away amazed. No charge. No grounds for accusation. Nothing.

The Resurrection Trick

The Sadducees were next. They did not believe in the resurrection of the dead, and they had a question they considered unanswerable — a hypothetical scenario designed to make the very idea of resurrection look absurd.

“Teacher, Moses wrote for us that if a man’s brother dies and leaves behind a wife and leaves no child, his brother should marry the wife and raise up children to his brother. There were seven brothers; and the first took a wife, and died leaving no children… Last of all the woman died also. In the resurrection, when they rise again, which one’s wife will she be? For all seven had married her.”

— Mark 12:19–23

It was a logic trap. If you believe in the resurrection, then you have an impossible situation — one woman, seven husbands, all raised to life. Whose wife is she? The Sadducees thought the absurdity of the question proved the absurdity of the doctrine.

Jesus’ answer dismantled the question at its foundation:

“Is this not the reason you are mistaken, that you do not understand the Scriptures or the power of God? For when they rise from the dead, they neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are like angels in heaven.”

— Mark 12:24–25

The premise was wrong. The resurrection is not a continuation of earthly arrangements. But Jesus did not stop there. He went to the text the Sadducees claimed to accept — the books of Moses — and used their own Scriptures against them:

“But regarding the fact that the dead rise again, have you not read in the book of Moses, in the passage about the burning bush, how God spoke to him, saying, ‘I am the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob’? He is not the God of the dead, but of the living; you are greatly mistaken.”

— Mark 12:26–27

God did not say “I was the God of Abraham.” He said “I am.” Present tense. Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob were still alive to God — which means the dead do rise.

Matthew records:

“When the crowds heard this, they were astonished at His teaching.”

— Matthew 22:33

The third test. The Sadducees — who believed they had an unanswerable argument — were told they were “greatly mistaken.” They asked nothing further.

The Greatest Commandment

One more questioner stepped forward. Mark gives us a detail the other accounts do not:

“One of the scribes came and heard them arguing, and recognizing that He had answered them well, asked Him, ‘What commandment is the foremost of all?’”

— Mark 12:28

This scribe had been listening. He had watched the chief priests fail, the Pharisees fail, and the Sadducees fail. And unlike the others, Mark suggests his question may have been sincere — he had noticed that Jesus “answered them well.”

“Jesus answered, ‘The foremost is, “Hear, O Israel! The Lord our God is one Lord; and you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.” The second is this, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” There is no other commandment greater than these.’”

— Mark 12:29–31

The scribe agreed:

“Right, Teacher; You have truly stated that He is one, and there is no one else besides Him; and to love Him with all the heart and with all the understanding and with all the strength, and to love one’s neighbor as himself, is much more than all burnt offerings and sacrifices.”

— Mark 12:32–33

And then Jesus said something to this man that He had not said to any of the others:

“When Jesus saw that he had answered intelligently, He said to him, ‘You are not far from the kingdom of God.’”

— Mark 12:34

Not a rebuke. Not a dismissal. A recognition that this man was close to understanding. It is a striking moment — warmth in the middle of confrontation. The only questioner who came honestly received an honest answer.

And then Mark closes the door on the entire sequence:

“After that, no one would venture to ask Him any more questions.”

— Mark 12:34

The Verdict

Step back and consider what happened on this single day. Every major authority group in Israel — the chief priests and elders, the Pharisees and Herodians together, the Sadducees, and a scribe — came to Jesus with their best questions. Some were sincere. Most were designed to trap Him. All of them failed.

Matthew summarizes the cumulative result:

“No one was able to answer Him a word, nor did anyone dare from that day on to ask Him another question.”

— Matthew 22:46

No one could answer Him. No one dared ask again. The examination was over — not because the examiners were satisfied, but because they had exhausted every avenue of attack and come up empty. They could not trap Him in His words. They could not find a flaw in His teaching. They could not construct a scenario He could not answer.

The Gospel writers are recording historical events — questions that were asked, answers that were given, and a result that was observed. These things happened. They are textual fact.

“After Two Days”

At some point during or after this long day of teaching, two Gospel writers give us the same time anchor:

“Now the Passover and Unleavened Bread were two days away.”

— Mark 14:1

“You know that after two days the Passover is coming, and the Son of Man is to be handed over for crucifixion.” — Matthew 26:2

If the Passover — Nisan 14 — is Wednesday, then “two days away” places this statement on Monday, Nisan 12. This is exactly where Mark’s “next day” sequence has brought us. The time anchor confirms the day.

And notice what Jesus says in Matthew’s account. He does not say “the Passover is coming.” He says the Passover is coming and the Son of Man is to be handed over for crucifixion. He is telling His disciples, plainly, that He knows what is about to happen. In two days, He will be delivered over to be killed.

The chief priests and scribes were making their plans:

“And the chief priests and the scribes were seeking how to seize Him by stealth and kill Him; for they were saying, ‘Not during the festival, otherwise there might be a riot of the people.’”

— Mark 14:1–2

They wanted Him dead. But they were afraid of the crowds. The very people who had been “astonished at His teaching” all day were the same people the leaders feared would riot if they moved too openly. So they would have to do it by stealth.

The trap was closing — but not on the One they intended to catch.

“Teaching Daily”

Luke adds one more detail that belongs here, though he does not assign it to a specific day:

“And He was teaching daily in the temple; but the chief priests and the scribes and the leading men among the people were trying to destroy Him, and they could not find anything that they might do, for all the people were hanging on to every word He said.”

— Luke 19:47–48

The word “daily” — the Greek kath’ hēmeran — means this was not a one-day event. Jesus taught in the temple over multiple days. Luke confirms what the timeline shows: the teaching and confrontation block spanned more than a single afternoon. It encompassed the days between the entry and the Last Supper — the days the Lamb was in the household.

And Luke adds a detail about the crowds that matters: “all the people were hanging on to every word He said.” The common people heard Him gladly (Mark 12:37). The leaders could not act because the people were listening. The very popularity that made Jesus a threat to the authorities was also the shield that kept them at bay — for now.

The Olivet Discourse

The teaching on this day did not end with the confrontations in the temple. As Jesus left the temple grounds, His disciples pointed out the massive stones of the building:

“Teacher, behold what wonderful stones and what wonderful buildings!”

— Mark 13:1

Jesus’ response stunned them:

“Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left upon another which will not be torn down.”

— Mark 13:2

They went to the Mount of Olives — across the valley from the temple — and there Jesus delivered His longest recorded teaching about the future: the destruction of the temple, the signs of the age, the call to watchfulness, and the certainty of His return. This is what scholars call the Olivet Discourse, recorded in Matthew 24–25 and Mark 13.

The content of that teaching is beyond the scope of this chapter — it would fill a book of its own. What matters for our timeline is that it happened on this day, at the close of the longest day of teaching in the Gospel accounts. And it ended with a warning:

“But of that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but the Father alone. Take heed, keep on the alert; for you do not know when the appointed time will come.”

— Mark 13:32–33

The day was ending. The sun was setting. And with it, the public teaching ministry of Jesus of Nazareth was drawing to a close. Tomorrow the tone would shift from teaching to preparation — and then to betrayal.

What This Day Reveals

This was the day that every authority in Israel took its best shot and missed. Chief priests and elders. Pharisees and Herodians. Sadducees. A scribe. Each came with a question crafted to expose a weakness, and each walked away empty-handed.

“No one was able to answer Him a word, nor did anyone dare from that day on to ask Him another question.”

That is the Gospel writers’ own summary. It is not inference. It is what happened.

Now — here is what the Gospel writers do not say, and what we must be careful to label honestly. Exodus 12 required the Passover lamb to be without blemish. It required the lamb to be kept in the household from the tenth until the fourteenth. But Exodus 12 does not tell us why the lamb was kept for four days. It does not say the keeping period was for examination or testing. That is a connection we can observe — a lamb kept in the household while Jesus was questioned in the temple — but it is our observation, not the text’s statement.

What is textual fact is this: during the days between His entry into Jerusalem and His death, every authority group that had the power to bring a charge against Jesus examined Him publicly. And the cumulative result, stated by the Gospel writers themselves, was that no one could find fault.

Whether God designed the Exodus 12 keeping period to foreshadow this sequence, we cannot say with certainty. But we can say that the lamb was required to be without blemish, and that the Lamb who entered Jerusalem on Nisan 10 was tested by every examiner who came forward — and not one of them found a blemish.

The correspondence is remarkable. We leave it to the reader to weigh it.

Chapter Six

The Anointing and the Betrayal

The public teaching was over. After the longest day of confrontation in the Gospel accounts — every authority group silenced, every trap disarmed, no fault found — Jesus left the temple for the last time as a free man. The next time He entered Jerusalem, He would be under arrest.

What happens next in the narrative involves two people whose actions could not be more different. One gave everything she had to honor Him. The other sold Him for the price of a slave.

The Anointing

Matthew and Mark both record an anointing at Bethany that they place in the narrative immediately after the “two days before the Passover” statement. The setting is a meal at the house of Simon the leper:

“Now when Jesus was in Bethany, at the home of Simon the leper, a woman came to Him with an alabaster vial of very costly perfume, and she poured it on His head as He reclined at the table.”

— Matthew 26:6–7

Mark adds what the perfume was and what it was worth:

“She broke the vial and poured it over His head.”

— Mark 14:3

“But some were indignantly remarking to one another, ‘Why has this perfume been wasted? For this perfume might have been sold for over three hundred denarii, and the money given to the poor.’ And they were scolding her.” — Mark 14:4–5

Three hundred denarii was roughly a year’s wages for a common laborer. This was not a token gesture. This woman poured a year’s income over His head in a single moment — and the people at the table scolded her for it.

Jesus’ response was immediate:

“Let her alone; why do you bother her? She has done a good deed to Me. For you always have the poor with you, and whenever you wish you can do good to them; but you do not always have Me.”

— Mark 14:6–7

And then He said something that reveals just how clearly He understood what was coming:

“She has done what she could; she has anointed My body beforehand for the burial.”

— Mark 14:8

For the burial. The woman may or may not have understood the full weight of what she was doing. Jesus did. In two days He would be dead, and this anointing — this extravagant, criticized, seemingly wasteful act — was preparation for what no one else at that table was willing to face.

Then He said this:

“Truly I say to you, wherever the gospel is preached in the whole world, what this woman has done will also be spoken of in memory of her.”

— Mark 14:9

Wherever the gospel is preached. In the whole world. In memory of her. That is one of the most extraordinary statements Jesus ever made about a single person’s act — and He made it about a woman pouring perfume on His head in a small house in Bethany, while the people around her complained about the cost.

A Question About Two Anointings

The reader who has been following carefully will notice a potential overlap. Back in Chapter 3, we read about the supper at Lazarus’s house on the evening Jesus arrived in Bethany — Friday, Nisan 9. At that meal, John records:

“Mary then took a pound of very costly perfume of pure nard, and anointed the feet of Jesus and wiped His feet with her hair; and the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.”

— John 12:3

Two anointings with costly perfume. Both in Bethany. Both during the final week. The question is natural: are these the same event, recorded from different perspectives? Or are they two separate anointings?

The details differ in several ways. John’s anointing is at Lazarus’s house; Matthew and Mark’s is at Simon the leper’s house. John says Mary anointed His feet; Matthew and Mark say the woman poured it on His head. John places it before the entry into Jerusalem; Matthew and Mark place it after the “two days before the Passover” statement.

There are readers who will conclude these are two different events — and the differences in setting, method, and timing support that reading. There are readers who will conclude this is one event that different Gospel writers placed at different points in their narratives for their own literary reasons — and Matthew’s and Mark’s tendency to arrange material topically rather than chronologically supports that reading.

We will not force a resolution. Both readings are possible. Neither creates a conflict with the timeline. What matters for our purposes is what the anointing reveals: Jesus knew He was about to die. He said so plainly — “she has anointed My body beforehand for the burial.” Whether this was said once or twice during that week, the message is the same. He was not walking toward the cross in ignorance. He was walking toward it with full awareness, and He received this woman’s act as preparation for what He knew was coming.

The Betrayal

Mark’s narrative moves directly from the anointing to Judas. The transition is abrupt — and the contrast is devastating:

“Then Judas Iscariot, who was one of the twelve, went off to the chief priests in order to betray Him to them.”

— Mark 14:10

“One of the twelve.” Mark does not let the reader miss the weight of that phrase. This was not an outsider. This was not a casual follower. This was one of the twelve men Jesus had personally chosen, personally taught, personally trusted with the mission. And he went to the chief priests — the same men who had been trying to find a way to seize Jesus by stealth — and offered them exactly what they needed.

Matthew records the transaction:

“What are you willing to give me to betray Him to you?”

— Matthew 26:15

That is the question Judas asked. Not “Is this the right thing to do?” Not “Will He be treated fairly?” What are you willing to give me?

“And they weighed out thirty pieces of silver to him.”

— Matthew 26:15

Thirty pieces of silver. Under the Law of Moses, thirty shekels of silver was the compensation owed to the owner of a slave who had been gored to death by an ox (Exodus 21:32). It was not a large sum. It was the assessed value of a slave’s life — the lowest category of human worth recognized in the law.

That was the price they set on the Lamb of God.

“From then on he began looking for a good opportunity to betray Jesus.”

— Matthew 26:16

Luke adds a detail that the other accounts do not:

“And Satan entered into Judas who was called Iscariot, belonging to the number of the twelve. And he went away and discussed with the chief priests and officers how he might betray Him to them. They were glad and agreed to give him money. So he consented, and began seeking a good opportunity to betray Him to them apart from the crowd.”

— Luke 22:3–6

Satan entered Judas. Luke does not explain how. He does not describe what it felt like or what changed in Judas’s thinking. He simply states it — and the result was immediate. Judas went to the chief priests and arranged the terms. They were glad. They had been looking for a way to take Jesus quietly, without a public scene (Mark 14:2). Now they had an insider.

The phrase “apart from the crowd” confirms what we have already seen: the crowds were the barrier. The people who hung on Jesus’ every word (Luke 19:48) were the reason the leaders could not move openly. Judas offered them a way around the crowd — a time, a place, a private moment.

The Contrast

Step back and see what the Gospel writers have placed side by side.

A woman pours out a year’s wages on Jesus’ head — an act so generous that the people around her called it waste. Jesus called it preparation for His burial, and promised it would be remembered wherever the gospel is preached in the whole world.

One of His own twelve walks out and asks the chief priests what they will pay for a betrayal. They set the price at thirty pieces of silver — the value of a dead slave. And he began looking for the right moment.

One person saw who He was and gave everything. Another person saw the same thing and sold it.

The Gospel writers do not editorialize on this contrast. They do not need to. They place the two scenes next to each other and let the reader feel the weight.

The Quiet Day — Nisan 13

The timeline gives us Tuesday — Nisan 13 — as the day between the end of the teaching block and the Last Supper. The Gospel writers record almost nothing for this day. Judas has made his arrangement. The chief priests are waiting for their opportunity. Jesus is in Bethany with the twelve.

The silence in the text is striking. After the intensity of the confrontations, after the anointing and the betrayal, the narrative pauses. It is as if the Gospel writers are drawing a breath before the night that will change everything.

What we do know is that the disciples were sent at some point to prepare the Passover meal. Matthew, Mark, and Luke all record this:

“Where do You want us to prepare for You to eat the Passover?”

— Matthew 26:17

The room was arranged. The meal was prepared. And when the sun set on Tuesday evening — when, in Hebrew reckoning, the day turned from Nisan 13 to the beginning of Nisan 14 — Jesus sat down with the twelve for the last meal they would share together.

He had told them what was coming. He had said plainly that the Son of Man would be handed over for crucifixion (Matthew 26:2). The woman had anointed Him for burial, and He had accepted it. Judas had already agreed on the price.

Everything that had been set in motion — from the selection on Nisan 10 to the confrontations in the temple to the plot in the high priest’s house — was about to converge on a single night.

The Lamb had been in the household for three days. No fault had been found. And now the hour was approaching.

Chapter Seven

The Passover

The sun was setting on Tuesday. In Hebrew reckoning, that sunset did not end Tuesday — it began a new day. Nisan 13 was over. Nisan 14 — the day of the Passover — had arrived.

Across Jerusalem, preparations were already underway. Families who had come from every corner of the empire were getting ready for the most important meal of the year — the meal that had been observed on this date for fifteen centuries, ever since the night God delivered Israel from Egypt.

And in an upper room somewhere in the city, Jesus of Nazareth sat down with twelve men to eat the same meal — knowing that by tomorrow afternoon, He would be dead.

The Preparation

Earlier that day, the disciples had come to Jesus with a practical question:

“Where do You want us to prepare for You to eat the Passover?”

— Matthew 26:17

Mark and Luke record the specific instructions Jesus gave:

“Go into the city, and a man will meet you carrying a pitcher of water; follow him; and wherever he enters, say to the owner of the house, ‘The Teacher says, “Where is My guest room in which I may eat the Passover with My disciples?”’ And he himself will show you a large upper room furnished and ready; prepare for us there.”

— Mark 14:13–15

The details are precise. A man carrying a water pitcher — an unusual sight, since women typically carried water — would serve as the marker. The disciples were to follow him, speak a specific phrase to the owner of the house, and they would be shown a room already furnished and ready.

“The disciples went out and came to the city, and found it just as He had told them; and they prepared the Passover.”

— Mark 14:16

Everything was exactly as He said it would be. The room was ready. The meal was prepared. And when evening came, Jesus arrived with the twelve.

“Before I Suffer”

“When the hour had come, He reclined at the table, and the apostles with Him.”

— Luke 22:14

And then Jesus said something that frames everything that follows in this room:

“I have earnestly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer; for I say to you, I shall never again eat it until it is fulfilled in the kingdom of God.”

— Luke 22:15–16

Read those words slowly. “I have earnestly desired” — this is not casual language. This is longing. “To eat this Passover with you” — this specific meal, with these specific men. “Before I suffer” — because He knows what is coming, and He knows this is the last time.

“I shall never again eat it until it is fulfilled in the kingdom of God.” The Passover had been observed for fifteen centuries. Every year, the lamb was killed. Every year, the blood was shed. Every year, the story was retold. And now the One who stood behind every Passover lamb was sitting at the table, telling His disciples that this was the last one — because the Passover itself was about to reach its purpose. It was about to be fulfilled.

The Servant

John’s Gospel does not record the bread and the cup. But John gives us something the other three do not — a scene that took place during the meal that none of them mention:

“Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into His hands, and that He had come forth from God and was going back to God, got up from supper, and laid aside His garments; and taking a towel, He girded Himself. Then He poured water into the basin, and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel with which He was girded.”

— John 13:3–5

Notice the sequence John gives us. Jesus knew that the Father had given all things into His hands. He knew where He had come from — God. He knew where He was going — back to God. And with that knowledge — with the full awareness of who He was and what authority He held — He got up and washed their feet.

This was the work of the lowest servant in the household. Not a teacher’s task. Not a rabbi’s task. Certainly not the task of the One who held all things in His hands. Peter resisted:

“Lord, do You wash my feet?”

— John 13:6

“Never shall You wash my feet!” — John 13:8

Jesus’ answer was direct:

“If I do not wash you, you have no part with Me.”

— John 13:8

When He finished, He explained:

“You call Me Teacher and Lord; and you are right, for so I am. If I then, the Lord and the Teacher, washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I gave you an example that you also should do as I did to you.”

— John 13:13–15

The Lamb of God — on the night before He would be slaughtered — knelt on the floor and washed the feet of the men He was about to die for. Including the feet of the man who was about to betray Him.

The Bread and the Cup

During the meal, Jesus did something that transformed the Passover forever. The three Synoptic writers all record it:

“While they were eating, Jesus took some bread, and after a blessing, He broke it and gave it to the disciples, and said, ‘Take, eat; this is My body.’”

— Matthew 26:26

“And when He had taken a cup and given thanks, He gave it to them, and they all drank from it. And He said to them, ‘This is My blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many.’“ — Mark 14:23–24

Luke adds:

“This cup which is poured out for you is the new covenant in My blood.”

— Luke 22:20

“Do this in remembrance of Me.” — Luke 22:19

For fifteen centuries, the Passover meal had pointed backward — to the night in Egypt when the lamb’s blood saved the firstborn. Now Jesus was pointing it forward. The bread was His body. The cup was His blood. The new covenant — the one Jeremiah had prophesied (Jeremiah 31:31–34) — was being established not with the blood of animals, but with His own.

And the command: “Do this in remembrance of Me.” Not in remembrance of Egypt. Not in remembrance of Moses. In remembrance of Him. The shadow was giving way to the substance. The Passover lamb had always been a picture. The real Lamb was sitting at the table, breaking the bread, passing the cup, and telling them to remember this from now on.

The Betrayer

“Truly, truly, I say to you, that one of you will betray Me.”

— John 13:21

The disciples were stunned. They looked at one another, uncertain who He meant. Peter motioned to John — the disciple who was reclining closest to Jesus — to ask:

“Lord, who is it?”

— John 13:25

“That is the one for whom I shall dip the morsel and give it to him.” — John 13:26

He dipped the bread and gave it to Judas.

“What you do, do quickly.”

— John 13:27

John records that no one else at the table understood what was happening. Some thought Jesus was telling Judas to buy supplies for the feast. Some thought He was sending him to give something to the poor (John 13:28–29). They did not grasp that the betrayal they had just been warned about was walking out the door.

“So after receiving the morsel he went out immediately; and it was night.”

— John 13:30

“And it was night.” Three words. John does not explain why he included them. He does not say they are symbolic. But the simplest, most literal detail — that Judas left the room and stepped into the darkness — carries a weight that no commentary could add to.

The betrayer was gone. The meal continued. And the longest night in human history was about to begin.

The Timing Question

Before we move into that night, we need to address something that careful readers will have noticed — a tension between what we have just read and what John’s Gospel says about the timing of the Passover.

The Synoptic Gospels are clear. The Last Supper was a Passover meal:

“On the first day of Unleavened Bread, when the Passover lamb was being sacrificed, His disciples said to Him, ‘Where do You want us to go and prepare for You to eat the Passover?’”

— Mark 14:12

“I have earnestly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer.” — Luke 22:15

Jesus calls it the Passover. The disciples prepare it as the Passover. There is no ambiguity in the Synoptic accounts.

But John’s Gospel provides two passages that create a tension:

“Then they led Jesus from Caiaphas into the Praetorium, and it was early; and they themselves did not enter into the Praetorium so that they would not be defiled, but might eat the Passover.”

— John 18:28

This is the morning after the Last Supper. Jesus is already under arrest, standing before Pilate. And the Jewish leaders have not yet eaten the Passover. If Jesus ate the Passover the night before, and they still have not eaten it, they are operating on different schedules.

“Now it was the day of preparation for the Passover.”

— John 19:14

John calls the crucifixion day “the day of preparation for the Passover.”

The tension is real, it is well-known, and it deserves honest treatment. But it is important to note that this tension exists regardless of which day of the week you place the crucifixion on. Whether you hold to a Wednesday crucifixion or a Friday crucifixion, the question is the same: the Synoptics say Jesus ate the Passover the evening before, and John says the Jewish leaders had not yet eaten it the next morning. This is a question between John and the Synoptics, not a question between Wednesday and Friday. It does not affect the day-of-the-week evidence this book is built on.

Two Possible Readings

There are two readings that the text allows. We will present both honestly.

The first reading takes “eat the Passover” in John 18:28 as a reference to the broader festival, not specifically the Passover lamb meal. The term “Passover” was sometimes used to refer to the entire festival period. Luke himself acknowledges this overlap:

“Now the Feast of Unleavened Bread, which is called the Passover, was approaching.”

— Luke 22:1

Under this reading, the Jewish leaders had already eaten the Passover lamb on the same evening Jesus did. Their concern about defilement was related to the remaining festival meals of Unleavened Bread, not the Passover lamb itself. This is a possible reading. We acknowledge that it resolves the tension simply, but it requires “eat the Passover” to mean something other than what the phrase most naturally suggests.

The second reading takes John at face value: the national Passover observance had not yet occurred when Jesus stood before Pilate. Jesus ate the Passover with His disciples ahead of the official observance — on the evening that began Nisan 14 — because He knew He would be dead before the nation sat down for its Passover meal the following evening.

Under this reading, Jesus and the national observance were on slightly different schedules. And the reason lies in a simple, unavoidable fact: Jesus could not simultaneously eat the Passover lamb and be the Passover Lamb at the same time.

The Core of the Question

If the Passover lambs were slaughtered on the afternoon of Nisan 14 and eaten that evening — the beginning of Nisan 15 — then Jesus could not be dying on the cross at the hour the lambs were being slaughtered and be eating the Passover meal at the same time. The fulfillment of the pattern required a separation.

So He ate the Passover with His disciples the evening before — because He loved them and desired to share it with them before He suffered. And He had already told them as much:

“I have earnestly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer.”

“Before I suffer” — because afterward, He would not be alive to eat it. He was not eating early out of convenience. He was eating early because He was about to become what the Passover lamb had always pointed to, and He knew the hour.

Under this reading, both accounts are accurate — viewed from different reference points. The Synoptics record Jesus eating the Passover with His disciples ahead of the official national observance. John records the national observance as still upcoming at the time of the crucifixion. The difference exists because the Lamb could not fulfill the pattern unless He died at the hour the lambs were slaughtered — and He could not eat the Passover at that hour if He was on the cross.

What We Conclude — and What We Acknowledge

We find the second reading more consistent with the full weight of the evidence — not only with the immediate passages in question, but with the entire pattern that God established in Exodus 12 and that this book has been tracing from the beginning. But we want to be clear: this is an inference. The text does not say in so many words, “Jesus ate the Passover a day early because He would be dead by the time the nation observed it.” We arrive at that conclusion by weighing the Synoptic accounts, John’s accounts, Luke 22:15, and the Passover typology together.

We do not claim this resolves every question the text raises. Honest students of Scripture have examined this tension for centuries. What we can say is this: when we have a timing question, and one reading aligns with the pattern God had been building since Exodus 12 — while the other requires “eat the Passover” to mean something other than eating the Passover — we follow the reading that lets both the pattern and the words keep their natural meaning.

What Happened in That Room

Set aside the chronological question for a moment and consider what took place in that upper room on this night.

The Lamb of God washed His disciples’ feet — the work of the lowest servant, done by the One who held all authority. He broke bread and said it was His body. He passed a cup and said it was His blood — the blood of a new covenant, poured out for the forgiveness of sins. He told them to remember Him by doing this. He identified His betrayer, watched him leave into the night, and continued the meal.

He did all of this knowing exactly what was about to happen. Knowing that within hours He would be arrested, tried, beaten, and nailed to a cross. Knowing that every man at that table would abandon Him before sunrise. Knowing that the one who had just walked out the door was going to lead armed men to the garden where He would be praying.

And He sat down and ate the Passover with them anyway. Because He had earnestly desired to share it with them. Before He suffered.

That is the kind of Lamb He was.

The meal ended. They sang a hymn (Matthew 26:30). And then they went out to the Mount of Olives — to a garden called Gethsemane.

The night was just beginning.

Chapter Eight

The Cup and the Trials

They left the upper room and crossed the Kidron Valley to the Mount of Olives. It was dark. Somewhere in the city, Judas was already moving.

Jesus brought the disciples to a place called Gethsemane — a garden at the foot of the mount. He had been there before. So had Judas. John tells us it was a place where Jesus often met with His disciples (John 18:2). Judas knew exactly where to find Him.

But before the betrayer arrived, something happened in that garden that the disciples were not meant to sleep through — though they did.

The Cup

Jesus took Peter, James, and John a little farther into the garden and left the rest behind. And then His demeanor changed.

“He began to be grieved and distressed. Then He said to them, ‘My soul is deeply grieved, to the point of death; remain here and keep watch with Me.’”

— Matthew 26:37–38

“To the point of death.” This was not anxiety. This was not nervousness about what the morning would bring. The weight pressing down on Jesus in that garden was something the text describes in the most extreme language available — grief so deep it approached death itself.

He went a little farther, fell on His face, and prayed:

“My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from Me; yet not as I will, but as You will.”

— Matthew 26:39

The cup. Jesus had used that word before. When James and John had asked to sit at His right and left in glory, He had asked them: “Are you able to drink the cup that I drink?” (Mark 10:38). They said they were able. He told them they would indeed drink it — and both of them went on to suffer greatly for the faith. The cup, as Jesus used the word, was suffering and death.

Here in the garden, He asked His Father if there was another way. If it was possible — if there was any other path that would accomplish what needed to be accomplished — to let it pass.

The answer, given not in words but in what followed, was no.

He came back and found the three disciples asleep:

“So, you men could not keep watch with Me for one hour?”

— Matthew 26:40

He returned and prayed a second time:

“My Father, if this cannot pass away unless I drink it, Your will be done.”

— Matthew 26:42

The first prayer asked if there was another way. The second prayer accepted that there was not. He found them sleeping again. He went back a third time and prayed the same words.

Luke adds a detail that neither Matthew nor Mark records:

“And being in agony He was praying very fervently; and His sweat became like drops of blood, falling down upon the ground.”

— Luke 22:44

Whatever was pressing on Jesus in that garden — and the text does not tell us precisely what it encompassed, beyond the suffering and death that were coming — it was severe enough that His body responded in a way that went beyond normal human distress. His sweat fell like drops of blood.

Three prayers. Three times He submitted to the Father’s will. And then it was over.

“Are you still sleeping and resting? Behold, the hour is at hand and the Son of Man is being betrayed into the hands of sinners. Get up, let us be going; behold, the one who betrays Me is at hand!”

— Matthew 26:45–46

The Arrest

“While He was still speaking, behold, Judas, one of the twelve, came up accompanied by a large crowd with swords and clubs, who came from the chief priests and elders of the people.”

— Matthew 26:47

“One of the twelve.” For the second time in as many chapters, the Gospel writers force the reader to absorb that phrase. This was not a stranger. This was a man who had eaten the Passover with Him hours earlier. A man whose feet He had washed.

“Now he who was betraying Him gave them a sign, saying, ‘Whomever I kiss, He is the one; seize Him.’ Immediately Judas went to Jesus and said, ‘Hail, Rabbi!’ and kissed Him.”

— Matthew 26:48–49

The signal was a kiss. The greeting was “Rabbi” — teacher. The betrayal was dressed in the language of affection and respect.

“And Jesus said to him, ‘Friend, do what you have come for.’”

— Matthew 26:50

“Friend.” Even now.

John records a detail the Synoptics do not. Before the arrest, Jesus stepped forward and asked the crowd a question:

“Whom do you seek?” They answered Him, “Jesus the Nazarene.” He said to them, “I am He.” … So when He said to them, “I am He,” they drew back and fell to the ground.”

— John 18:4–6

They fell to the ground. An armed crowd, sent by the chief priests with swords and clubs, fell backward when He identified Himself. John does not explain why. He records it.

Then came the sword. Peter — identified by name in John 18:10 — drew a weapon and struck the high priest’s slave, cutting off his right ear. Jesus stopped him immediately:

“Put your sword back into its place; for all those who take up the sword shall perish by the sword. Or do you think that I cannot appeal to My Father, and He will at once put at My disposal more than twelve legions of angels? How then will the Scriptures be fulfilled, that it must happen this way?”

— Matthew 26:52–54

Twelve legions of angels. A Roman legion was roughly six thousand soldiers. Jesus was saying He had access to more than seventy-two thousand angels — at a word. The power to stop everything was right there, available, waiting to be called upon.

He chose not to call.

Luke records that Jesus healed the slave’s ear (Luke 22:51) — the last healing He would perform before the cross.

And then:

“Then all the disciples left Him and fled.”

— Matthew 26:56

All of them. Every one. The men who had shared the Passover with Him, who had heard Him pray in the garden, who had watched Him wash their feet — they ran.

Before Annas

The armed crowd brought Jesus first to Annas. John alone records this appearance:

“So the Roman cohort and the commander and the officers of the Jews, arrested Jesus and bound Him, and led Him to Annas first; for he was father-in-law of Caiaphas, who was high priest that year.”

— John 18:12–13

Annas was the former high priest — removed from office by the Romans years earlier but still wielding enormous influence behind the scenes. Five of his sons and his son-in-law Caiaphas had served as high priest after him. He was the power behind the office.

“The high priest then questioned Jesus about His disciples, and about His teaching. Jesus answered him, ‘I have spoken openly to the world; I always taught in synagogues and in the temple, where all the Jews come together; and I spoke nothing in secret. Why do you question Me? Question those who have heard what I spoke to them; they know what I said.’”

— John 18:19–21

Jesus’ answer was direct: He had nothing to hide. Everything He taught was public. If Annas wanted to know what He said, there were witnesses everywhere. It was a challenge to produce evidence — proper evidence, from actual witnesses — rather than conducting a private interrogation in the middle of the night.

An officer struck Him for the answer (John 18:22). Annas sent Him to Caiaphas.

Before Caiaphas and the Sanhedrin

This was the formal hearing — or what passed for one. The chief priests and the entire Sanhedrin assembled, and they began looking for testimony against Jesus:

“Now the chief priests and the whole Council kept trying to obtain testimony against Jesus to put Him to death, and they were not finding any. For many were giving false testimony against Him, but their testimony was not consistent.”

— Mark 14:55–56

Read that carefully. The ruling council of Israel was actively seeking testimony to condemn a man to death — and they could not find it. Not because there were no witnesses. There were many. But their testimony was not consistent. The witnesses contradicted one another, which under the Law of Moses disqualified their testimony.

“Some stood up and began to give false testimony against Him, saying, ‘We heard Him say, “I will destroy this temple made with hands, and in three days I will build another made without hands.”’ Not even in this respect was their testimony consistent.”

— Mark 14:57–59

Even the charge about the temple — which was a distortion of something Jesus had actually said (John 2:19) — fell apart because the witnesses could not agree on the details. The council had gathered in the middle of the night, had assembled false witnesses, and still could not produce a coherent case.

Finally, the high priest took a different approach. He stopped looking for witnesses and asked Jesus directly:

“Are You the Christ, the Son of the Blessed One?”

— Mark 14:61

“I am; and you shall see the Son of Man sitting at the right hand of Power, and coming with the clouds of heaven.” — Mark 14:62

That was the moment. The high priest tore his robes:

“What further need do we have of witnesses? You have heard the blasphemy; how does it seem to you?” And they all condemned Him to be deserving of death.”

— Mark 14:63–64

The charge was blasphemy — because He claimed to be the Christ, the Son of God. The false witnesses had failed. The testimony had not been consistent. And in the end, the only evidence they had was Jesus’ own statement about who He was.

They condemned Him for telling the truth.

Peter

While the trials unfolded inside, Peter was in the courtyard. He had not fled entirely — he had followed at a distance and found his way into the high priest’s compound. But what happened there is one of the most painful passages in the Gospels.

A servant girl recognized him:

“You too were with Jesus the Galilean.”

— Matthew 26:69

“I do not know what you are talking about.” — Matthew 26:70

Another girl saw him and said the same thing. He denied it again — this time with an oath:

“I do not know the man.”

— Matthew 26:72

A third time, bystanders said his accent gave him away as a Galilean. Peter responded with the strongest denial yet:

“Then he began to curse and swear, ‘I do not know the man!’ And immediately a rooster crowed.”

— Matthew 26:74

Luke adds the detail that breaks the scene open:

“The Lord turned and looked at Peter.”

— Luke 22:61

Jesus — in the middle of His own trial, beaten, bound, condemned — turned and looked at Peter. Luke does not describe the expression on His face. He does not tell us whether it was accusation or sorrow or compassion. He simply says that Jesus looked at Peter.

“And Peter went out and wept bitterly.”

— Luke 22:62

Before Pilate

When morning came, the Sanhedrin needed Roman authority to carry out a death sentence. They brought Jesus to Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor:

“And Pilate asked Him, ‘Are You the King of the Jews?’ And He answered him, ‘It is as you say.’”

— Mark 15:2

After this initial exchange, something happened that caught Pilate’s attention:

“And the chief priests began to accuse Him harshly. Then Pilate questioned Him again, saying, ‘Do You not answer? See how many charges they bring against You!’ But Jesus made no further answer; so Pilate was amazed.”

— Mark 15:3–5

He made no further answer. Accusation after accusation, and Jesus stood silent. Pilate — a Roman governor accustomed to prisoners pleading, bargaining, defending themselves — was amazed. He had never seen anyone respond to a death sentence with silence.

Isaiah had written it seven centuries earlier:

“Like a lamb that is led to slaughter, and like a sheep that is silent before its shearers, so He did not open His mouth.”

— Isaiah 53:7

The Lamb was silent.

And Pilate’s verdict was clear:

“I find no guilt in this man.”

— Luke 23:4

No guilt. Pilate examined Him and found nothing. But the crowd pressed, so Pilate tried another route.

Before Herod

“When Pilate heard it, he asked whether the man was a Galilean. And when he learned that He belonged to Herod’s jurisdiction, he sent Him to Herod, who himself also was in Jerusalem at that time.”

— Luke 23:6–7

Herod Antipas — the tetrarch of Galilee, the man who had executed John the Baptist — had been wanting to see Jesus for a long time. He was hoping to see some miracle performed.

“And he questioned Him at some length; but He answered him nothing.”

— Luke 23:9

Nothing. Not a word. Not a sign. Not a miracle. Herod got silence.

“And Herod with his soldiers, after treating Him with contempt and mocking Him, dressed Him in a gorgeous robe and sent Him back to Pilate.”

— Luke 23:11

No charge. No finding of guilt. Just mockery and a robe — and then back to Pilate.

Before Pilate Again

Pilate gathered the chief priests, the rulers, and the people, and stated his conclusion:

“You brought this man to me as one who incites the people to rebellion, and behold, having examined Him before you, I have found no guilt in this man regarding the charges which you make against Him. No, nor has Herod, for he sent Him back to us; and behold, nothing deserving death has been done by Him.”

— Luke 23:14–15

That is the second time Pilate declared Him not guilty. And he noted that Herod had reached the same conclusion independently.

John records a third:

“Pilate came out again and said to them, ‘Behold, I am bringing Him out to you so that you may know that I find no guilt in Him.’”

— John 19:4

Three times. The Roman governor — the highest civil authority in Judea — examined Jesus and stated publicly, three times, that he found no basis for the charges.

But the crowd wanted blood. And Pilate offered them a choice:

“But you have a custom that I release someone for you at the Passover; do you wish then that I release for you the King of the Jews?”

— John 18:39

“So they cried out again, saying, ‘Not this Man, but Barabbas.’ Now Barabbas was a robber.” — John 18:40

Matthew tells us Barabbas was a “notorious prisoner” (Matthew 27:16). Mark tells us he had committed murder during an insurrection (Mark 15:7). The crowd chose a murderer over the man Pilate had just declared innocent — three times.

“When Pilate saw that he was accomplishing nothing, but rather that a riot was starting, he took water and washed his hands in front of the crowd, saying, ‘I am innocent of this Man’s blood; see to that yourselves.’”

— Matthew 27:24

“So Pilate, wanting to satisfy the crowd, released Barabbas for them, and after having Jesus scourged, he handed Him over to be crucified.” — Mark 15:15

The verdict was in — not guilty, by the governor’s own words, stated three times. And then the governor handed Him over anyway.

What This Night Reveals

From the garden to the governor’s seat, every person who had the authority to examine Jesus did so. Consider what the text records:

Annas questioned Him. No formal charge resulted.

The Sanhedrin assembled witnesses. Their testimony was not consistent. The false witnesses contradicted one another. The only evidence that held was Jesus’ own claim to be the Son of God — which they called blasphemy. They condemned Him not for anything He had done, but for what He said about who He was.

Pilate examined Him three times and three times declared: “I find no guilt in this man.”

Herod questioned Him at length, found nothing, mocked Him, and sent Him back.

Every examiner — religious and civil, Jewish and Roman — had the opportunity to find a legitimate charge. None did. The Sanhedrin could only condemn Him for claiming to be who He actually was. Pilate could only hand Him over to avoid a riot.

These are the Gospel writers’ own records. They are textual facts — what happened, who said what, what the verdicts were.

And standing behind those facts, quietly, is the requirement God gave Moses fifteen centuries earlier: “Your lamb shall be an unblemished male” (Exodus 12:5). We have noted throughout this study that Exodus does not tell us the purpose of the four-day keeping period, and we will not claim more than the text gives us. But we can observe what the Gospel writers themselves record: that during the days between His entry into Jerusalem and His death, no examiner — friend or enemy, religious or civil — found a single legitimate fault in Him.

The Lamb was without blemish. Not because we say so. Because His enemies said so — and could not make a case otherwise, even when they tried.

The night was over. The morning had come. And the man who had been declared innocent was being led away to be crucified.

It was still Nisan 14. The afternoon was coming — and with it, the hour when the Passover lambs would be slaughtered in the temple.

The Lamb of God would die at the same hour.

Chapter Nine

The Lamb Is Killed

Pilate handed Him over.

Those four words cover the distance between a verdict and a cross. The Roman governor had declared three times that he found no guilt in this man. And then he delivered Him to be crucified anyway.

What follows is the most documented afternoon in human history. All four Gospel writers record it. They do not agree on every detail — each one selected what he considered most important, and each one wrote for a different audience. But they agree on the sequence, and they agree on the outcome. And what they record, taken together, is a portrait so specific and so precisely timed that no reader of Exodus 12 should be able to look at it without recognition.

This is the afternoon the blueprint was fulfilled.

The Scourging and the Mockery

Before a Roman crucifixion, there was a scourging. The Gospels do not describe it in detail. Matthew says simply:

“Then he released Barabbas for them; but after having Jesus scourged, he handed Him over to be crucified.”

— Matthew 27:26

Mark says the same (Mark 15:15). John places the scourging earlier, before Pilate’s final attempt to release Him (John 19:1). The sequence differs slightly between the accounts, but the fact of the scourging is consistent across all of them.

What followed the scourging was mockery.

“Then the soldiers of the governor took Jesus into the Praetorium and gathered the whole Roman cohort around Him. They stripped Him and put a scarlet robe on Him, and after twisting together a crown of thorns, they put it on His head, and a reed in His right hand; and they knelt down before Him and mocked Him, saying, ‘Hail, King of the Jews!’ They spat on Him, and took the reed and began to beat Him on the head.”

— Matthew 27:27–30

A scarlet robe. A crown made of thorns. A reed placed in His hand as a mock scepter. Roman soldiers kneeling in front of Him — not in worship, but in ridicule. Spitting. Striking.

The soldiers did not know who they were mocking. They saw a beaten prisoner from a conquered province. They did what soldiers did with condemned men — they entertained themselves.

The text records their actions. It does not record His response. Matthew, Mark, and John all describe what was done to Him. None of them describe Him saying a word.

The Road to Golgotha

“And when they had mocked Him, they took the scarlet robe off Him and put His own garments back on Him, and led Him away to crucify Him.”

— Matthew 27:31

“They pressed into service a passer-by coming from the country, Simon of Cyrene (the father of Alexander and Rufus), to bear His cross.” — Mark 15:21

Jesus was led out of the city carrying His own cross (John 19:17). At some point along the way, the soldiers compelled a man named Simon to carry it for Him. The text does not say why the transfer happened — whether Jesus collapsed, whether He was too weakened by the scourging to continue, or whether it was simply a matter of Roman convenience. It records the fact.

Mark identifies Simon as “the father of Alexander and Rufus” — a detail that only matters if Alexander and Rufus were known to Mark’s readers. This is not the kind of detail someone invents. It is the kind of detail someone includes because the people involved were still alive and could be asked.

Luke adds one more detail from the road:

“And following Him was a large crowd of the people, and of women who were mourning and lamenting Him. But Jesus turning to them said, ‘Daughters of Jerusalem, stop weeping for Me, but weep for yourselves and for your children.’”

— Luke 23:27–28

Even on the way to His own execution, He was thinking about what was coming for them.

The Crucifixion

“When they came to the place called The Skull, there they crucified Him and the criminals, one on the right and the other on the left.”

— Luke 23:33

The Gospels do not describe the mechanics of crucifixion. They do not describe the nails being driven in or the cross being raised. They state the fact — “they crucified Him” — and move immediately to what happened around the cross.

That restraint is worth noting. The original readers knew what crucifixion was. They did not need it described. It was the most brutal form of execution in the Roman world, designed not only to kill but to humiliate, and it was performed publicly as a warning. The Gospel writers treated it as a known reality and focused instead on what was said and done during those hours.

The Inscription

“Pilate also wrote an inscription and put it on the cross. It was written, ‘JESUS THE NAZARENE, THE KING OF THE JEWS.’”

— John 19:19

“Therefore the chief priests of the Jews were saying to Pilate, ‘Do not write, “The King of the Jews”; but that He said, “I am King of the Jews.”’ Pilate answered, ‘What I have written I have written.’“ — John 19:21–22

The chief priests wanted the inscription changed. Pilate refused. Whether he intended it as a final act of spite against the Jewish leaders or whether he was simply done with the whole affair, the text does not say. It records his words: “What I have written I have written.”

The inscription stayed.

The First Words from the Cross

“But Jesus was saying, ‘Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.’”

— Luke 23:34

The verb tense in the Greek indicates He said this repeatedly — not once, but over and over. While they were dividing His garments. While they were mocking Him. While the nails were still fresh.

He asked His Father to forgive the men who were killing Him.

The Soldiers and the Garments

“Then the soldiers, when they had crucified Jesus, took His outer garments and made four parts, a part to every soldier and also the tunic; now the tunic was seamless, woven in one piece. So they said to one another, ‘Let us not tear it, but cast lots for it, to decide whose it shall be.’”

— John 19:23–24

John then adds:

“…this was to fulfill the Scripture: ‘They divided My outer garments among them, and for My clothing they cast lots.’”

— John 19:24

John identifies this as a fulfillment of Psalm 22:18. The soldiers had no idea they were acting out a script written a thousand years before they were born. They were simply following standard procedure — the condemned man’s belongings went to the execution squad.

The Mockery at the Cross

“And those passing by were hurling abuse at Him, wagging their heads and saying, ‘You who are going to destroy the temple and rebuild it in three days, save Yourself! If You are the Son of God, come down from the cross.’”

— Matthew 27:39–40

“In the same way the chief priests also, along with the scribes and elders, were mocking Him and saying, ‘He saved others; He cannot save Himself. He is the King of Israel; let Him now come down from the cross, and we will believe in Him. He trusts in God; let God rescue Him now, if He delights in Him; for He said, “I am the Son of God.”’“ — Matthew 27:41–43

The irony in their words is staggering — but the text does not point it out, so we will note it briefly and let it stand. “He saved others; He cannot save Himself” was spoken as mockery. It was, in fact, the most precise theological statement anyone made that day. He could not save others and save Himself at the same time. That was the whole point.

“Let God rescue Him now, if He delights in Him.” Compare Psalm 22:8 — “Commit yourself to the LORD; let Him deliver him; let Him rescue him, because He delights in him.” The mockers were quoting the psalm without knowing it.

The Two Criminals

“One of the criminals who were hanged there was hurling abuse at Him, saying, ‘Are You not the Christ? Save Yourself and us!’ But the other answered, and rebuking him said, ‘Do you not even fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed are suffering justly, for we are receiving what we deserve for our deeds; but this man has done nothing wrong.’ And he was saying, ‘Jesus, remember me when You come in Your kingdom!’ And He said to him, ‘Truly I say to you, today you shall be with Me in Paradise.’”

— Luke 23:39–43

Two men. Same cross. Same suffering. One mocked. One believed. And the one who believed received a promise that very hour — from a dying man who had the authority to make it.

The Darkness

“Now from the sixth hour darkness fell upon all the land until the ninth hour.”

— Matthew 27:45

The sixth hour is noon. The ninth hour is three o’clock in the afternoon. For three hours, in the middle of the day, darkness covered the land.

Matthew, Mark, and Luke all record this. None of them explain the cause. It was not an eclipse — Passover falls at full moon, and solar eclipses cannot occur at full moon. The text does not tell us what caused the darkness. It tells us it happened.

Three hours of darkness. Over the whole land. While the Son of God hung on the cross.

The Cry

“About the ninth hour Jesus cried out with a loud voice, saying, ‘Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?’ that is, ‘My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?’”

— Matthew 27:46

These are the words of Psalm 22:1. Jesus was quoting Scripture — not in a whisper, but in a loud cry.

The word “forsaken” carries weight that we should not try to lighten. Whatever happened between the Father and the Son during those three hours of darkness, Jesus expressed it with this word. The text does not explain the nature of what He experienced. It records His cry.

What we can say is this: Isaiah had written that “the LORD has caused the iniquity of us all to fall on Him” (Isaiah 53:6). Paul would later write that God “made Him who knew no sin to be sin on our behalf, so that we might become the righteousness of God in Him” (2 Corinthians 5:21). The weight of those statements and the weight of this cry belong together. But exactly what occurred between Father and Son in that darkness is something the text does not open for us. We hear the cry. We note Isaiah’s words. And we let both stand without pretending we can see into what even the Gospel writers left veiled.

“It Is Finished”

“Therefore when Jesus had received the sour wine, He said, ‘It is finished!’ And He bowed His head and gave up His spirit.”

— John 19:30

The Greek word is tetelestai. It means “it is finished” or “it has been completed.” It is a word of accomplishment — not of defeat. Something had been brought to its end. A task had been fulfilled.

It is worth noting that this same word was used in the commercial world of the first century. When a debt was paid, the receipt was marked tetelestai — paid in full. Whether Jesus intended that specific nuance or whether it is simply part of the word’s range of meaning, we cannot say with certainty. What we can say is that He did not cry out in despair. He made a declaration. Whatever He came to do, He had done it.

Luke records His final words differently:

“And Jesus, crying out with a loud voice, said, ‘Father, into Your hands I commit My spirit.’ Having said this, He breathed His last.”

— Luke 23:46

The first recorded words from the cross were “Father, forgive them.” The last recorded words were “Father, into Your hands I commit My spirit.” He began and ended by speaking to His Father.

The Death

“And Jesus cried out again with a loud voice, and yielded up His spirit.”

— Matthew 27:50

Mark places the time:

“When the sixth hour came, darkness fell over the whole land until the ninth hour.”

— Mark 15:33

“At the ninth hour Jesus cried out with a loud voice…” — Mark 15:34

The ninth hour. Approximately three o’clock in the afternoon. This is when Jesus died.

This is also the afternoon of Nisan 14 — the day God commanded the Passover lamb to be killed. Exodus 12:6 specified that the lamb was to be killed bein ha’arbayim — “between the evenings” — understood as the afternoon hours. In the first century, the Passover lambs were slaughtered in the temple during the afternoon of Nisan 14.

Jesus died during those same afternoon hours, on the same day.

The Gospel writers do not draw this connection explicitly. They do not say “He died at the hour the Passover lambs were being killed.” They record the day (the day of preparation before the high-day Sabbath) and the hour (the ninth hour). The correspondence with Exodus 12:6 is something we observe — and it is difficult to observe without being struck by it. But we note it as our observation, not as the text’s claim.

The Veil

“And behold, the veil of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom; and the earth shook and the rocks were split.”

— Matthew 27:51

The veil separated the Holy Place from the Most Holy Place — the inner room where the presence of God dwelt, the room that only the high priest could enter, and only once a year, and never without blood (Hebrews 9:7). It was the physical barrier between God and man.

The text says it was torn “from top to bottom.” The direction is stated. Who did the tearing is not stated explicitly, though the direction — from above, not from below — has been widely noted as suggesting divine rather than human action. We note the observation and let the reader weigh it.

What the text does state is that it happened at the moment of Jesus’ death. The barrier between God and man was removed at the same instant the Lamb breathed His last. The writer of Hebrews would later connect these directly:

“Therefore, brethren, since we have confidence to enter the holy place by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way which He inaugurated for us through the veil, that is, His flesh…”

— Hebrews 10:19–20

The veil torn. The way opened. We will return to this in a later chapter, because what it means for every person who has ever lived deserves more than a paragraph at the end of the longest day.

The Burial

The day was not over. Sundown was approaching, and with it the beginning of a Sabbath — not the weekly Sabbath, but the high-day Sabbath of Nisan 15, the first day of the Feast of Unleavened Bread. If Jesus’ body remained on the cross past sundown, it would be there during the feast.

“Then the Jews, because it was the day of preparation, so that the bodies would not remain on the cross on the Sabbath (for that Sabbath was a high day), asked Pilate that their legs might be broken, and that they might be taken away.”

— John 19:31

John pauses here to make a note that matters enormously for the timeline of this book — and for anyone trying to understand what happened in the days that followed. He tells us the Sabbath that was coming was not an ordinary Sabbath. It was “a high day.” This was the feast-day Sabbath of Nisan 15, the first day of Unleavened Bread — a commanded rest regardless of what day of the week it fell on (Leviticus 23:6–7).

This distinction — between the high-day Sabbath and the weekly Sabbath — is the textual key that unlocks the entire timeline. We will examine its full significance in Chapter 10, where the three-days-and-three-nights evidence is laid out completely. For now, note that John flagged it. He wanted his readers to know which Sabbath was approaching. And the reason he wanted them to know will become clear.

The soldiers came to break the legs of the crucified men — a practice that hastened death by preventing them from pushing up to breathe. They broke the legs of the two criminals. But when they came to Jesus:

“…but coming to Jesus, when they saw that He was already dead, they did not break His legs. But one of the soldiers pierced His side with a spear, and immediately blood and water came out.”

— John 19:33–34

He was already dead. They did not need to hasten what had already happened. John records this with particular care, adding his own testimony:

“And he who has seen has testified, and his testimony is true; and he knows that he is telling the truth, so that you also may believe.”

— John 19:35

John was there. He saw it. And he wanted his readers to know that this was not hearsay.

Joseph and Nicodemus

“After these things Joseph of Arimathea, being a disciple of Jesus, but a secret one for fear of the Jews, asked Pilate that he might take away the body of Jesus; and Pilate granted permission. So he came and took away His body.”

— John 19:38

“Nicodemus, who had first come to Him by night, also came, bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes, about a hundred pounds weight.” — John 19:39

Two men. Both members of the council that had condemned Jesus. Both had kept their allegiance quiet — Joseph out of fear, Nicodemus since the night he came to Jesus in secret (John 3:1–2). Now, with Jesus dead and the authorities satisfied, both stepped forward.

The timing is striking. They did not defend Him during the trial. They did not speak up when the crowd chose Barabbas. But they came for His body. Whatever courage they had lacked in the night, they found in the afternoon. Joseph went to Pilate — a public act, on the record — and asked for the body of a condemned man. That took more courage after the crucifixion than it would have before it.

“So they took the body of Jesus and bound it in linen wrappings with the spices, as is the burial custom of the Jews. Now in the place where He was crucified there was a garden, and in the garden a new tomb in which no one had yet been laid. Therefore because of the Jewish day of preparation, since the tomb was nearby, they laid Jesus there.”

— John 19:40–42

They buried Him in a new tomb. They wrapped His body with spices. They did what they could before sundown — because when the sun went down, the high-day Sabbath would begin, and no work could be done.

Matthew adds:

“And Joseph took the body and wrapped it in a clean linen cloth, and laid it in his own new tomb, which he had hewn out in the rock; and he rolled a large stone against the entrance of the tomb and went away.”

— Matthew 27:59–60

The stone was rolled across the entrance. The tomb was sealed. The women who had followed from Galilee watched where He was laid (Luke 23:55).

Sundown was approaching. The high-day Sabbath — Nisan 15, the first day of the Feast of Unleavened Bread — was about to begin. What the women did about spices, and when they did it, is a detail that will matter enormously when we examine the days that followed. We will take it up in Chapter 10.

The body of Jesus lay in a borrowed tomb. A stone sealed the entrance. And the longest day in history was over.

The Day the Blueprint Was Completed

We have walked through Nisan 14 — from the scourging that morning to the sealed tomb at sundown. Before we close this chapter, we need to step back and see what this day looks like when laid beside the blueprint God gave Moses fifteen centuries earlier.

In Exodus 12, God commanded the Passover lamb to be killed on the fourteenth day of the month, in the afternoon — bein ha’arbayim, between the evenings (Exodus 12:6). The blood of the lamb was to be applied to the doorposts (Exodus 12:7). And when God saw the blood, He would pass over that house, and the firstborn would not die (Exodus 12:13).

On Nisan 14, in the afternoon, Jesus of Nazareth died on a cross outside Jerusalem. His blood was poured out. And the night He had instituted the bread and the cup with His disciples, He had said:

“This is My blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for forgiveness of sins.”

— Matthew 26:28

Here is what we can say with certainty: the Gospel events and the Exodus 12 commands are each independently verifiable. Jesus entered Jerusalem on what two independent time-marker chains identify as Nisan 10 — the day Exodus 12:3 commanded the lamb to be selected. He was questioned and tested by every authority in Israel during the days between His entry and His death — the same days Exodus 12:5–6 commanded the lamb to be kept. No fault was found — and Exodus 12:5 required the lamb to be unblemished. He died on the afternoon of Nisan 14 — the day and time Exodus 12:6 commanded the lamb to be killed.

Here is what we must say honestly: no Gospel writer states that Jesus fulfilled the Passover lamb pattern on these specific days. We arrive at the Nisan dates by counting backward through the time markers. The day-by-day correspondence between the Gospel events and the Exodus 12 commands is something we observe when we lay the two accounts side by side. It is typological inference — our observation, not the text’s explicit claim.

But the inference is not arbitrary. It is built on two independent Gospel chronologies that converge on the same dates. It aligns with Paul’s statement that “Christ our Passover also has been sacrificed” (1 Corinthians 5:7). And it fits a pattern that runs through the entire Old Testament — shadows and types that find their substance in Christ (Hebrews 10:1).

We leave it to the reader to weigh what they have seen. A lamb selected on the tenth day. Kept for four days. Found without blemish. Killed on the afternoon of the fourteenth. Blood poured out so that death would pass over.

That was the blueprint. And on this Wednesday afternoon, on the fourteenth day of Nisan, it was fulfilled.

The tomb was sealed. The stone was in place. Sundown was approaching. And when it came, a Sabbath would begin — a high-day Sabbath, the first day of the Feast of Unleavened Bread.

The Lamb had been killed. The blood had been poured out. And now the silence would begin.

Three days. Three nights. Just as He said.

Part Three

The Silence

Chapter Ten

Three Days and Three Nights

In the Prologue of this book, we said that there is a problem with the traditional timeline of the crucifixion and resurrection — a problem of simple math and specific words. We said we would address it fully when the time came.

The time has come.

We have now walked through every day of the final week — from Jesus’ arrival in Bethany through the sealed tomb. We have followed the time markers that Mark and John left us and traced each event to its day. And the day we arrived at for the crucifixion was Wednesday, Nisan 14.

That is not the traditional answer. The tradition says Friday. It has said Friday for most of church history, and it is so deeply embedded in our calendar that the day even has a name — “Good Friday.”

But “Good Friday” is not in the Bible. Neither is “Palm Sunday” or “Easter.” These are names given by tradition. They may be right. They may be wrong. The only way to know is to test them against the text.

That is what this chapter does.

What Jesus Said

Let’s begin with the one statement Jesus made that was specific enough to be measured — the one prediction He tied to a verifiable Old Testament parallel.

“For just as Jonah was three days and three nights in the belly of the sea monster, so will the Son of Man be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth.”

— Matthew 12:40

Read that sentence carefully, because everything in this chapter depends on taking it seriously.

Jesus said “three days and three nights.” He specified both — days and nights. He gave a number for each — three. And He anchored the prediction to a specific Old Testament event: Jonah’s time in the belly of the great fish. This was not a vague metaphor. Jonah 1:17 says Jonah was in the fish “three days and three nights.” Jesus said His time in the tomb would match that pattern exactly.

This was not a one-time statement. Jesus predicted His death and resurrection repeatedly throughout His ministry, using several different phrasings:

“On the third day” — Matthew 16:21; 17:23; 20:19; Luke 9:22; 18:33; 24:7; 24:46.

“After three days” — Mark 8:31; 9:31; 10:34.

“In three days” — John 2:19.

These phrases are all consistent with one another when understood within Jewish inclusive counting, where the day something begins is counted as the first day. “On the third day” and “after three days” refer to the same time frame — just as we might say “I’ll see you in three days” and “I’ll see you on the third day” to mean the same thing (compare 2 Chronicles 10:5 and 10:12, where both phrases describe the same event).

But Matthew 12:40 is the most specific of all, because it does not just say “three days.” It says “three days and three nights.” Both halves matter. Any proposed timeline must account for both.

His Enemies Took It Literally

One more detail before we test the timeline. After the crucifixion, the chief priests and Pharisees went to Pilate:

“Sir, we remember that when He was still alive that deceiver said, ‘After three days I am to rise again.’ Therefore, give orders for the grave to be made secure until the third day, otherwise His disciples may come and steal Him away and say to the people, ‘He has risen from the dead,’ and the last deception will be worse than the first.”

— Matthew 27:63–64

Even His enemies understood “after three days” as a literal time period — literal enough that they wanted the tomb guarded for the full duration. They did not treat it as a figure of speech. They treated it as a claim that could be verified or disproven.

If His enemies took it literally, so should we.

The Friday Problem

The traditional timeline places the crucifixion on Friday afternoon and the resurrection on Sunday morning. Let’s count what that gives us.

Friday afternoon — Jesus is buried before sundown.

Friday night — night one.

Saturday (daytime) — day one.

Saturday night — night two.

Sunday morning — the tomb is found empty at dawn.

That is two nights and one full day. Even if we count the remaining daylight hours of Friday as a partial day and the predawn hours of Sunday as a partial day, we have at most two nights and parts of three days.

The problem is not with the days. The partial-day argument — the idea that any part of a day counts as a full day in Jewish reckoning — can stretch Friday afternoon and Sunday morning into something that might satisfy “three days” under inclusive counting.

The problem is with the nights. Jesus did not say “three days.” He said “three days and three nights.” Friday night and Saturday night are two nights. There is no third night in the Friday-to-Sunday model. No amount of inclusive counting or partial-day reckoning can produce a third night between Friday afternoon and Sunday dawn. It simply is not there.

Some have suggested that Jesus was speaking idiomatically — that “three days and three nights” was a Jewish expression that did not require literal fulfillment. But Jesus did not use a general idiom. He pointed to a specific Old Testament event. He said His time would be “just as” Jonah’s time. Jonah 1:17 says Jonah was in the fish “three days and three nights.” If those words meant three actual days and three actual nights for Jonah — and no one has ever suggested they didn’t — then Jesus was saying His time in the tomb would match.

The phrase is either literal for both, or figurative for both. If it is figurative for Jesus, it must also be figurative for Jonah, and we have no reason to think Jonah’s time in the fish was anything other than what the text says — three days and three nights.

The Friday model gives us two nights. Jesus said three. That is the problem.

What John Told Us

If Friday does not work, what does? To find out, we need to look at a detail John recorded about the day of the crucifixion — a detail that unlocks the entire timeline.

“Then the Jews, because it was the day of preparation, so that the bodies would not remain on the cross on the Sabbath (for that Sabbath was a high day), asked Pilate that their legs might be broken, and that they might be taken away.”

— John 19:31

The traditional reading assumes that “the day of preparation” means Friday — the day before the weekly Sabbath (Saturday). And if the Sabbath in question is the regular weekly Sabbath, then Friday is the only option.

But John does not leave it at that. He adds a parenthetical note — a clarification he wanted his readers not to miss: “for that Sabbath was a high day.”

John is telling us that the Sabbath following the crucifixion was not an ordinary weekly Sabbath. It was something different — a “high day.”

What is a high day? As we discussed in the calendar section of this book, the Law of Moses established special Sabbath rest days tied to specific feast dates. These were days when no work was to be done, regardless of what day of the week they fell on. The first day of the Feast of Unleavened Bread — Nisan 15 — was one of these:

“Then on the fifteenth day of the same month there is the Feast of Unleavened Bread to the LORD; for seven days you shall eat unleavened bread. On the first day you shall have a holy convocation; you shall not do any laborious work.”

— Leviticus 23:6–7

Nisan 15 was a commanded Sabbath — a rest day by decree, not by the weekly cycle. If it fell on a Thursday, Thursday was a Sabbath that week. If it fell on a Tuesday, Tuesday was a Sabbath. The day of the week did not matter. What mattered was the date.

John is telling us that the Sabbath approaching on the evening of the crucifixion was this feast-day Sabbath — not the regular Saturday Sabbath. The crucifixion occurred on Nisan 14 (the day of Passover preparation), and the Sabbath that was approaching was Nisan 15 (the first day of Unleavened Bread).

This means “the day of preparation” does not have to mean Friday. It means the day before a Sabbath — and if the Sabbath in question is Nisan 15 rather than Saturday, then the crucifixion day could have been any day of the week. The day is determined by the calendar date, not by the weekly cycle.

John went out of his way to flag this. He interrupted his narrative to add a parenthetical note. He wanted his readers to know which Sabbath was coming. And the reason matters enormously — because if there were two Sabbaths that week rather than one, the entire timeline changes.

The Spice Paradox

Here is where two passages — one from Luke and one from Mark — create a problem that the traditional timeline cannot solve but the Wednesday timeline solves immediately.

“Now the women who had come with Him out of Galilee followed, and saw the tomb and how His body was laid. Then they returned and prepared spices and perfumes. And on the Sabbath they rested according to the commandment.”

— Luke 23:55–56

“When the Sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome, bought spices, so that they might come and anoint Him.” — Mark 16:1

Read those two passages side by side.

Luke says the women prepared spices and perfumes. Then they rested on the Sabbath.

Mark says the women bought spices after the Sabbath was over.

The sequence in Luke is: prepare spices, then rest.

The sequence in Mark is: Sabbath ends, then buy spices.

You cannot prepare what you have not yet purchased.

If there is only one Sabbath — Saturday — then these two accounts contradict each other. Luke says they prepared the spices before the Sabbath. Mark says they bought the spices after the Sabbath. Under a single-Sabbath model, “before the Sabbath” and “after the Sabbath” are on opposite sides of the same day. The women would have had to prepare spices they had not yet bought. That is not possible.

But if there were two Sabbaths that week — with an ordinary working day between them — the contradiction vanishes.

Here is how it works:

Thursday (Nisan 15) — the high-day Sabbath, the first day of Unleavened Bread. The women rest. This is the “high day” John flagged in 19:31.

Friday (Nisan 16) — an ordinary working day. The high-day Sabbath is over. The women buy their spices (Mark 16:1 — “when the Sabbath was over”). They then prepare the spices and perfumes (Luke 23:56a).

Saturday (Nisan 17) — the regular weekly Sabbath. The women rest “according to the commandment” (Luke 23:56b).

Now both passages work. Mark’s “bought spices after the Sabbath was over” refers to after the high-day Sabbath (Thursday). Luke’s “prepared spices, then rested on the Sabbath” refers to preparing them on Friday and resting on the weekly Sabbath (Saturday). The two Sabbaths are different Sabbaths, and the working day between them is when the buying and preparing happened.

This is the spice paradox. And it has only one resolution: two Sabbaths with a working day in between.

The Count

If the crucifixion was on Wednesday — Nisan 14 — and burial was completed before sundown, here is the count.

Wednesday Sundown to Thursday Sundown — Night 1, Day 1

The high-day Sabbath. The first day of the Feast of Unleavened Bread. A commanded rest (Leviticus 23:6–7). This was the Sabbath John flagged as “a high day” (John 19:31).

The city was observing the feast. The Passover lambs slaughtered the previous afternoon had been eaten. The week of unleavened bread had begun. And inside a sealed tomb on the outskirts of Jerusalem, the body of Jesus lay wrapped in linen and spices.

The disciples were scattered. Peter had denied Him three times and wept (Matthew 26:75). The rest had fled when He was arrested (Matthew 26:56). The text does not tell us where they were on this day or what they were doing. It tells us nothing about Thursday at all except one thing.

The enemies acted.

“Now on the next day, the day after the preparation, the chief priests and the Pharisees gathered together with Pilate, and said, ‘Sir, we remember that when He was still alive that deceiver said, “After three days I am to rise again.” Therefore, give orders for the grave to be made secure until the third day, otherwise His disciples may come and steal Him away and say to the people, “He has risen from the dead,” and the last deception will be worse than the first.’”

— Matthew 27:62–64

“Pilate said to them, ‘You have a guard; go, make it as secure as you know how.’ And they went and made the grave secure, and along with the guard they set a seal on the stone.” — Matthew 27:65–66

“The next day, the day after the preparation.” The preparation day was Nisan 14 — the day of the crucifixion. The next day was Nisan 15 — the high-day Sabbath. The chief priests considered the threat serious enough to approach Pilate on a feast day. They remembered what He had said. They took His words literally. They wanted the tomb secured for the full duration.

A Roman guard was posted. A seal was placed on the stone. The tomb was as secure as Rome could make it.

Night one. Day one.

Thursday Sundown to Friday Sundown — Night 2, Day 2

The high-day Sabbath was over. The weekly Sabbath had not yet begun. Friday was an ordinary working day — the day the traditional timeline does not have room for.

The shops were open. The markets were operating. And the women went to buy spices.

“When the Sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome, bought spices, so that they might come and anoint Him.”

— Mark 16:1

Mark says they bought the spices after the Sabbath was over. This was the high-day Sabbath — Thursday. It was now Friday. They went to the spice merchants and purchased what they needed.

Then Luke tells us what they did with them:

“Then they returned and prepared spices and perfumes.”

— Luke 23:56a

They bought the spices and prepared them. On the same day. A working day. The day between the two Sabbaths.

Think about what these women were doing. They had watched Him die. They had seen where He was buried. And now, on the first day they were permitted to act, they went to the market, bought burial spices, came home, and prepared them — all so they could go to the tomb and anoint His body properly.

They were not preparing for a resurrection. They were preparing for a final goodbye. The text does not describe their grief. It does not need to. The spices say enough.

Night two. Day two.

Friday Sundown to Saturday Sundown — Night 3, Day 3

The weekly Sabbath. The seventh day. The day the commandment said to rest.

“And on the Sabbath they rested according to the commandment.”

— Luke 23:56b

The spices were bought. The spices were prepared. Everything was ready. But it was the Sabbath, and they rested — because the Law required it, and these women honored the Law even in their grief.

The soldiers stood guard. The seal held. The stone did not move. The text gives us nothing else about this day.

And at sundown, the third day would be complete. Three nights since the burial. Three days. The time Jesus had specified — “three days and three nights” — reaching its end. In Hebrew reckoning, sundown Saturday was already the beginning of the first day of the week.

Night three. Day three.

Sunday at Dawn

“Now on the first day of the week Mary Magdalene came early to the tomb, while it was still dark, and saw the stone already taken away from the tomb.”

— John 20:1

The women came to the tomb. The stone was already rolled away. The tomb was already empty. He was risen.

Three nights. Three days. Exactly as Jesus said. Exactly as Jonah was three days and three nights in the belly of the fish.

“On the third day” — the third day from Wednesday is Saturday, counting inclusively (Thursday = day one, Friday = day two, Saturday = day three). Risen on the third day. It fits.

“After three days” — after three full days from Wednesday afternoon. Three full day-night cycles bring us to Saturday at sundown. Risen after three days. It fits.

No partial-day arguments are needed. No redefinition of “night.” No stretching of language. The text says what it means, and the Wednesday timeline lets it mean what it says.

What About Thursday?

Some have proposed a Thursday crucifixion as a compromise — closer to three days than Friday, while avoiding the unfamiliarity of Wednesday. It deserves a brief examination.

If the crucifixion was on Thursday (Nisan 14), then Nisan 15 — the high-day Sabbath — falls on Friday. The weekly Sabbath follows immediately on Saturday. That gives us two consecutive Sabbaths: Friday and Saturday, back to back.

The problem is the spices. If the high-day Sabbath is Friday and the weekly Sabbath is Saturday, there is no working day between them. The women cannot buy or prepare spices on either Sabbath. They would have to wait until Sunday — but Mark says they bought spices “when the Sabbath was over” and then came to the tomb on Sunday morning, implying they had already bought and prepared them before arriving.

More importantly, Luke says they prepared spices before resting on the Sabbath. If both Sabbaths are consecutive (Friday and Saturday), there is no day between them on which to prepare. Luke’s sequence — prepare, then rest — requires a working day before the Sabbath on which they rested. Thursday does not provide one.

The Thursday model also yields only two nights (Thursday night and Friday night) before a Sunday dawn discovery, producing the same shortage as the Friday model.

Thursday does not satisfy the textual requirements. Wednesday is the only day that does.

The Emmaus Road Objection

There is one passage that is sometimes raised as a challenge to the Wednesday crucifixion, and it deserves honest treatment.

On the Sunday after the crucifixion, two disciples were walking to the village of Emmaus. The risen Jesus joined them on the road, but they did not recognize Him. They told Him about the crucifixion, and then one of them said:

“But we were hoping that it was He who was going to redeem Israel. Indeed, besides all this, it is the third day since these things happened.”

— Luke 24:21

If this conversation is happening on Sunday, and it is “the third day since these things happened,” the objection runs like this: counting backward from Sunday, the third day would be Friday. Day three = Sunday, day two = Saturday, day one = Friday. Therefore the crucifixion was on Friday.

But the phrase requires more careful attention than that. The key words are “these things” — tauta panta in the Greek. What things?

Look at what the disciples have just described. In the preceding verses (Luke 24:19–20), they speak of Jesus as “a prophet mighty in deed and word,” and they say “the chief priests and our rulers delivered Him to the sentence of death, and crucified Him.” But “these things” is broader than the crucifixion alone. The disciples are describing the entire sequence of events — the condemnation, the crucifixion, the burial, and everything that followed.

And something did follow. Matthew tells us:

“Now on the next day, the day after the preparation, the chief priests and the Pharisees gathered together with Pilate, and said, ‘Sir, we remember that when He was still alive that deceiver said, “After three days I am to rise again.” Therefore, give orders for the grave to be made secure until the third day…’”

— Matthew 27:62–64

“Pilate said to them, ‘You have a guard; go, make it as secure as you know how.’ And they went and made the grave secure, and along with the guard they set a seal on the stone.” — Matthew 27:65–66

The guard was posted on “the next day, the day after the preparation.” In the Wednesday timeline, the preparation day is Wednesday (Nisan 14), and the next day is Thursday (Nisan 15, the high-day Sabbath). The last official action taken against Jesus — the securing of the tomb with a Roman guard and a seal — happened on Thursday.

If “these things” includes this final act — the sealing and guarding of the tomb — then counting from Thursday: day one = Friday, day two = Saturday, day three = Sunday.

Sunday is the third day since Thursday. The Wednesday timeline fits.

The Emmaus disciples were not doing precise calendar arithmetic. They were saying, in the way people naturally speak, that it had been about three days since the whole ordeal — the arrest, the trials, the crucifixion, the burial, the sealing of the tomb. The last of “these things” was the posting of the guard on Thursday. And Sunday is the third day from Thursday.

The Discovery, Not the Moment

One more distinction needs to be stated clearly, because it matters for how we understand the resurrection.

All four Gospels agree that the women came to the tomb early on the first day of the week — Sunday — and found it already empty.

“Now on the first day of the week Mary Magdalene came early to the tomb, while it was still dark, and saw the stone already taken away from the tomb.”

— John 20:1

Already taken away. Already empty. Not one Gospel describes the moment of resurrection. They describe the discovery.

In the Wednesday timeline, three full days and three full nights from burial before sundown Wednesday would be completed at sundown Saturday. In Hebrew reckoning, sundown Saturday is already the beginning of the first day of the week. The resurrection could have occurred at that boundary — at the completion of the third day — fitting both “on the third day” and “the first day of the week” simultaneously.

When the women arrived at dawn on Sunday, they did not witness the resurrection. They found the evidence of it. The tomb was already open. The body was already gone. The angel told them what had happened:

“He is not here, for He has risen, just as He said.”

— Matthew 28:6

“Just as He said.” Three days and three nights, just as Jonah. On the third day, just as He told His disciples. After three days, just as even His enemies remembered.

A Note on Mark 16:9

Mark 16:9 is sometimes cited as evidence that Jesus rose on Sunday morning:

“Now after He had risen early on the first day of the week, He first appeared to Mary Magdalene…”

— Mark 16:9

The question here is one of punctuation, not vocabulary. In the original Greek, there were no commas. The phrase “early on the first day of the week” could modify “risen” (meaning He rose early on Sunday) or it could modify “appeared” (meaning He appeared to Mary early on Sunday). The Greek allows either reading.

If it modifies “appeared,” the verse is saying: after He had risen, He appeared to Mary early on the first day of the week. The timing of the appearance is Sunday morning. The timing of the resurrection is not specified.

There is also a well-known textual question about Mark 16:9–20. Many early manuscripts do not include these verses, and the NASB marks them with a note indicating this. They may be original to Mark or they may be a later addition. Either way, the punctuation question means this verse does not settle the timing of the resurrection.

What the text gives us is a latest possible time — before Sunday dawn — and a discovery, not the moment itself. The Wednesday timeline provides three complete nights and three complete days, ending at sundown Saturday. The tomb was found empty Sunday morning. Both are consistent.

What We Have Seen

Let’s lay out what we have, piece by piece.

Jesus said He would be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth, tied directly to Jonah’s three literal days and three literal nights (Matthew 12:40).

His enemies took it literally — literally enough to ask for a guard through the third day (Matthew 27:63–64).

John told us the Sabbath after the crucifixion was not the regular weekly Sabbath — it was “a high day,” the feast-day Sabbath of Nisan 15 (John 19:31; Leviticus 23:6–7).

Luke told us the women prepared spices and then rested on the Sabbath (Luke 23:56).

Mark told us the women bought spices after the Sabbath was over (Mark 16:1).

The spice paradox — you cannot prepare what you have not purchased — requires two Sabbaths with a working day between them.

The count from a Wednesday crucifixion gives three nights and three days exactly, with the tomb found empty Sunday morning.

The Friday model gives two nights, not three. It cannot account for the third night without redefining what “night” means.

The Thursday model puts two Sabbaths back to back with no working day for the spices.

Wednesday is the only day that satisfies all of the textual constraints simultaneously.

This is not a minor point of Bible trivia. This is about whether we take the words of Jesus at face value. He said three days and three nights. He specified both. He tied the prediction to a measurable Old Testament event. And His enemies took it literally enough to post a guard.

If we believe what He said, the timeline must accommodate it. The Wednesday crucifixion does. The Friday crucifixion does not.

A Word About Tradition

We want to be clear about what we are not saying.

We are not saying that the question of which day Jesus was crucified affects anyone’s relationship with God. The cross is no less powerful if the crucifixion was on Wednesday rather than Friday. And the resurrection — on the first day of the week — is not in question at all. Every timeline, traditional or otherwise, agrees that the tomb was found empty on Sunday. That day matters. It is the day God raised His Son from the dead. It is the day the Holy Spirit came and the Lord first added to His church — Pentecost, fifty days later, also fell on the first day of the week (Acts 2:1, 41, 47). It is the day the early church assembled to worship (Acts 20:7; 1 Corinthians 16:2). It is the Lord’s Day (Revelation 1:10). Nothing in this study changes that. What we are examining is which day the crucifixion occurred — and whether the tradition of Friday can bear the weight of the textual evidence.

We are also not saying that the tradition was invented in bad faith. The association of the crucifixion with Friday is very old — centuries old — and it arose from a natural reading of the phrase “the day of preparation.” If you assume the Sabbath in that phrase is the weekly Sabbath, Friday is the obvious conclusion. The problem is not dishonesty. The problem is that John told us it was not the weekly Sabbath, and that detail has been overlooked.

It is worth noting that the terms “Palm Sunday,” “Ash Wednesday,” “Good Friday,” and “Easter” do not appear anywhere in the Bible. They were devised by men, centuries after the events they name. What Jesus Himself gave us to remember His sacrifice by was not a calendar label. It was a meal — the bread and the cup, the emblems of the new covenant, to be observed “in remembrance of Me” (Luke 22:19; 1 Corinthians 11:24–25). That is what He left us. The rest was added later.

What we are saying is this: when the text and the tradition disagree, the text has the authority. The tradition is old. But the text is older. And the text says three days and three nights. The text says the Sabbath was a high day. The text says the women bought spices after one Sabbath and rested on another. When all of these details are taken together, they point to Wednesday — not as a theory, but as the only day that lets every passage stand as written.

We ask nothing of the reader except the willingness to follow the text — even if it leads somewhere unfamiliar.

The case is laid out. The evidence is in the text. Every passage cited is verifiable. Every step of logic can be checked.

We believe the evidence points strongly in one direction: Jesus was buried before sundown on Wednesday, Nisan 14. He was in the tomb for three nights and three days — through the high-day Sabbath on Thursday, through the working day on Friday, and through the weekly Sabbath on Saturday. At sundown Saturday, the third day was complete. And when the women came to the tomb at dawn on Sunday, the stone was already rolled away, and the tomb was already empty.

Three days. Three nights. Just as Jonah. Just as He said.

For the people who lived through those three days, none of this was visible. The disciples did not know that Sunday was coming. Peter did not know he would see Jesus again. Mary Magdalene did not know that the spices she had carefully prepared would never be used for their intended purpose. The soldiers at the tomb did not know that the man they were guarding was not going to stay dead.

They did not have the next chapter. They had only the silence. And in that silence, every promise God had ever made appeared to be broken.

But God had said three days and three nights. Not two. Not four. Three. And God keeps His word — not approximately, not loosely, but precisely. The same precision that marked the Passover in Egypt — the lamb on the right day, the blood at the right time, the death passing over at the appointed hour — marked the tomb in Jerusalem.

The silence was not empty. It was measured. And when the measure was full, the silence ended.

The Sabbath drew to a close. The sun was setting. Saturday was ending, and the first day of the week was about to begin.

The women had their spices ready. They would go to the tomb at first light.

They did not know what they would find.

Part Four

The Open Door

Chapter Eleven

The Stone Moves

“Now on the first day of the week Mary Magdalene came early to the tomb, while it was still dark, and saw the stone already taken away from the tomb.”

— John 20:1

Already taken away.

She came expecting to find a sealed tomb. She came with spices. She came to care for a dead body. And before she even reached the entrance, the stone was gone.

The Morning

All four Gospels record this morning, each from a slightly different angle.

Matthew tells us there was a severe earthquake, and that an angel descended and rolled away the stone and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning, and the guards shook and became like dead men (Matthew 28:2–4).

Mark says the women — Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome — arrived very early, when the sun had risen. They had been asking each other, “Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance of the tomb?” And when they looked up, they saw that the stone had already been rolled away (Mark 16:2–4).

Luke says they came at early dawn and found the stone rolled away. They entered the tomb and did not find the body of the Lord Jesus. Two men in dazzling clothing stood beside them (Luke 24:1–4).

John focuses on Mary Magdalene. She came while it was still dark. She saw the stone removed. And she ran (John 20:1–2).

The details differ because the perspectives differ. Matthew focuses on the angel and the guards. Mark focuses on the women’s concern about the stone. Luke gives us two angelic figures. John follows Mary Magdalene’s experience closely. These are not contradictions. They are the natural result of multiple witnesses describing the same event — each one reporting what struck them most, what they saw from where they were standing.

But on one point, all four accounts agree: the tomb was empty. The body was gone. The stone had been moved.

The Angel’s Words

“The angel said to the women, ‘Do not be afraid; for I know that you are looking for Jesus who has been crucified. He is not here, for He has risen, just as He said. Come, see the place where He was lying.’”

— Matthew 28:5–6

Six words in the middle of that sentence carry the weight of the entire book: “just as He said.”

He said three days and three nights. Three days and three nights passed. He said He would rise. He rose.

The angel did not explain the resurrection. He did not describe how it happened. He announced the fact and pointed to the evidence — the empty place where the body had been — and he connected it to what Jesus had already told them.

Just as He said. The blueprint held. The promise was kept. The words meant what they said.

Mark records the angel’s words slightly differently:

“Do not be amazed; you are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who has been crucified. He has risen; He is not here; behold, here is the place where they laid Him.”

— Mark 16:6

Luke records the two men asking a question that cuts to the heart of the moment:

“Why do you seek the living One among the dead? He is not here, but He has risen.”

— Luke 24:5–6

Why are you looking for a living man in a graveyard? The question was not a rebuke. It was a redirection. Everything they thought they knew about how this story ended was wrong.

The Stone

One detail deserves a moment of attention. The stone had been rolled away before the women arrived. The tomb was already open. The body was already gone.

Why was the stone moved?

Later that same day, Jesus walked with two disciples on the road to Emmaus. When they sat down to eat together, “He took the bread and blessed it, and breaking it, He began giving it to them. Then their eyes were opened and they recognized Him; and He vanished from their sight” (Luke 24:30–31). He was there — and then He was not. Later, He appeared to the disciples in a locked room — “the doors were shut where the disciples were, for fear of the Jews” — and “Jesus came and stood in their midst” (John 20:19). He did it again eight days later, with the doors shut again (John 20:26). His resurrection body was not subject to the same physical limitations as before.

If He could pass through locked doors, He did not need the stone rolled away to get out of the tomb. The stone was not moved for Him. It was moved for the witnesses — so they could see that the tomb was empty, so they could enter and find the linen wrappings lying there, so they could know.

The text does not state this explicitly. But John’s account of the locked doors — recorded in the same chapter — provides the evidence. We note the observation and leave the reader to weigh it.

Peter and John

Mary Magdalene ran from the tomb and found Peter and John:

“So she ran and came to Simon Peter and to the other disciple whom Jesus loved, and said to them, ‘They have taken away the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid Him.’”

— John 20:2

She did not yet understand what had happened. Her first assumption was not resurrection — it was that someone had moved the body.

“So Peter and the other disciple went forth, and they were going to the tomb. The two were running together; and the other disciple ran ahead faster than Peter and came to the tomb first; and stooping and looking in, he saw the linen wrappings lying there; but he did not go in. And so Simon Peter also came, following him, and entered the tomb; and he saw the linen wrappings lying there, and the face-cloth which had been on His head, not lying with the linen wrappings, but rolled up in a place by itself.”

— John 20:3–7

The linen wrappings were still there. The face-cloth was folded separately. This was not a robbery. No one who came to steal a body would unwrap it first and leave the burial cloths neatly behind.

“So the other disciple who had first come to the tomb then also entered, and he saw and believed.”

— John 20:8

John saw the evidence and believed. The wrappings told the story. Whatever had happened in that tomb, it was not theft.

Mary

The others left. Mary stayed.

“But Mary was standing outside the tomb weeping; and so, as she wept, she stooped and looked into the tomb; and she saw two angels in white sitting, one at the head and one at the feet, where the body of Jesus had been lying. And they said to her, ‘Woman, why are you weeping?’ She said to them, ‘Because they have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid Him.’”

— John 20:11–13

She was still weeping. She was still looking for a body.

“When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, and did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, ‘Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you seeking?’ Supposing Him to be the gardener, she said to Him, ‘Sir, if you have carried Him away, tell me where you have laid Him, and I will take Him away.’”

— John 20:14–15

She was standing in front of the risen Son of God, and she thought He was the gardener. She was so consumed by grief that she did not recognize Him.

And then He said one word.

“Jesus said to her, ‘Mary!’”

— John 20:16a

He said her name. That was all it took.

“She turned and said to Him in Hebrew, ‘Rabboni!’ (which means, Teacher).”

— John 20:16b

The Witnesses

The resurrection was not a private event experienced by one or two people in a moment of heightened emotion. It was witnessed by many people, over many days, in many settings.

The apostle Paul — writing to the church in Corinth approximately twenty-five years after the resurrection — listed the witnesses:

“For I delivered to you as of first importance what I also received, that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, and that He was buried, and that He was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures, and that He appeared to Cephas, then to the twelve. After that He appeared to more than five hundred brethren at one time, most of whom remain until now, but some have fallen asleep; then He appeared to James, then to all the apostles; and last of all, as to one untimely born, He appeared to me also.”

— 1 Corinthians 15:3–8

Cephas — Peter. The twelve. More than five hundred people at once — and Paul notes that most of them were still alive when he wrote, available to be asked. James. All the apostles. And Paul himself.

This was not a rumor that grew over time. It was a claim made by specific, named individuals who said they saw Him alive, and it was made while hundreds of other witnesses were still living and could confirm or deny it.

Thomas

One of the twelve was not present when Jesus first appeared to the group. Thomas said:

“Unless I see in His hands the imprint of the nails, and put my finger into the place of the nails, and put my hand into His side, I will not believe.”

— John 20:25

Eight days later, Jesus appeared again — through locked doors — and went directly to Thomas:

“Then He said to Thomas, ‘Reach here with your finger, and see My hands; and reach here your hand and put it into My side; and do not be unbelieving, but believing.’ Thomas answered and said to Him, ‘My Lord and my God!’”

— John 20:27–28

Thomas did not say “my teacher” or “my rabbi.” He said “my Lord and my God.” And Jesus did not correct him. He accepted the declaration.

What Changed

The transformation of the disciples is itself a piece of evidence that deserves attention.

Before the resurrection, Peter denied Jesus three times — to a servant girl, in a courtyard, while Jesus was on trial for His life (Matthew 26:69–75). The rest of the disciples fled when He was arrested (Matthew 26:56). After the crucifixion, they hid behind locked doors “for fear of the Jews” (John 20:19).

These were not bold men. They were terrified.

Fifty days later, on the day of Pentecost, Peter stood up in Jerusalem — the same city where Jesus had been crucified — and declared to the crowd:

“This Jesus God raised up again, to which we are all witnesses.”

— Acts 2:32

The same Peter who had denied knowing Jesus was now publicly proclaiming His resurrection in the city where the tomb could be checked. Three thousand people believed and were baptized that day (Acts 2:41).

What changed? They saw Him. They saw Him alive. They ate with Him (Luke 24:42–43; John 21:12–13). They touched Him (John 20:27; Matthew 28:9). They spoke with Him over a period of forty days (Acts 1:3). And what they saw changed them from men hiding behind locked doors into men who would spend the rest of their lives proclaiming what they had witnessed — most of them dying for it.

People do not die for what they know to be a lie. They die for what they believe to be true. And these men did not merely believe it. They said they saw it.

What the Resurrection Means

The empty tomb is not the end of the story. It is the beginning of everything that follows.

If Jesus rose from the dead, then He was who He said He was. Paul wrote to the Romans:

“…who was declared the Son of God with power by the resurrection from the dead, according to the Spirit of holiness, Jesus Christ our Lord.”

— Romans 1:4

The resurrection is the declaration. It is God’s verdict on every claim Jesus made. If He rose, His words are true — all of them.

If Jesus rose from the dead, then the sacrifice was accepted. Paul wrote:

“He who was delivered over because of our transgressions, and was raised because of our justification.”

— Romans 4:25

He was delivered to death for our sins. He was raised because the payment was sufficient. The resurrection is the receipt.

If Jesus rose from the dead, then death has been conquered. Peter proclaimed on Pentecost:

“God raised Him up again, putting an end to the agony of death, since it was impossible for Him to be held in its power.”

— Acts 2:24

And Paul wrote to the Corinthians:

“But now Christ has been raised from the dead, the first fruits of those who are asleep. For since by a man came death, by a man also came the resurrection of the dead. For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ all will be made alive.”

— 1 Corinthians 15:20–22

The blueprint was real. The Lamb was real. The blood was real. And the resurrection proves it — because the God who designed the Passover in Egypt, who wrote the pattern into the Law, who sent prophets to describe the suffering servant, who brought His Son into the world at the appointed time, who orchestrated every day of the final week down to the hour — that God did not leave His Son in the grave.

He said three days and three nights. He meant it. And on the other side of those three days, the stone moved.

The tomb is empty. The Lamb is alive. And the veil — the barrier between God and man that had stood for fifteen centuries — has been torn from top to bottom.

What that means for every person who has ever lived is where we turn next.

Chapter Twelve

When Did the Lamb Die?

We have walked through the week. We have seen the Lamb selected on Nisan 10, examined for four days, killed on the afternoon of Nisan 14, and buried before sundown. We have counted three nights and three days in the tomb. We have stood with the women at the empty tomb on the first day of the week.

The text told us the sequence. It told us the days. It told us the day of the week.

But it raises a question we have not yet asked: can we determine the year?

The Hebrew calendar is lunar. Each month begins with the sighting of the new crescent moon. Nisan 14 — the day the Passover lamb is killed — is always fourteen days after the start of Nisan. If we can determine when the new moon of Nisan occurred in the years surrounding the crucifixion, we can calculate what day of the week Nisan 14 fell on in each year. And if only one year in the plausible range produces a Wednesday, we may have our answer.

This chapter uses astronomical data — not tradition, not commentary. The astronomy is verifiable. The text is verifiable. What follows is an honest examination of what they tell us when brought together.

What the Text Requires

Before we look at the astronomical data, we need to identify the boundaries that the text gives us. Any proposed year must satisfy all of these constraints at the same time.

Pilate Must Be in Office

All four Gospels identify Pontius Pilate as the Roman governor who sentenced Jesus to death. The Roman historian Tacitus confirms this (Annals, XV.44). Pilate governed Judaea from AD 26 to AD 36. The crucifixion must fall within this window.

The Fifteenth Year of Tiberius

“Now in the fifteenth year of the reign of Tiberius Caesar, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea… the word of God came to John, the son of Zacharias, in the wilderness.”

— Luke 3:1–3

Luke anchors the beginning of John the Baptist’s ministry to a specific year. Tiberius’s sole reign began in August AD 14. By standard Roman reckoning, his fifteenth year runs from approximately January AD 29 to January AD 30. Some have proposed an earlier co-regency reckoning that could push this back to AD 26–27, but the straightforward reading of Luke places John’s ministry beginning around AD 28–29.

Jesus was baptized by John after John began preaching. His public ministry followed. This gives us our earliest possible starting point.

Three Passovers in John’s Gospel

John records at least three distinct Passovers during Jesus’ public ministry: the first near the beginning of His ministry (John 2:13), a second during His Galilean ministry (John 6:4), and the final Passover at which He was crucified (John 11:55). This means His ministry spanned at least two full years — and likely closer to three.

If the ministry began around AD 29 and lasted through three Passovers, the crucifixion Passover falls around AD 31.

Nisan 14 Must Fall on a Wednesday

As we established in Chapter 10, the text requires a Wednesday crucifixion. Any proposed year must have Nisan 14 falling on a Wednesday.

Paul’s Conversion

The apostle Paul’s conversion is generally dated to approximately AD 33–34, based on working backward from his appearance before the proconsul Gallio in Corinth (Acts 18:12–17), which is well-dated to AD 51–52, and tracing his travels and timeline references in Galatians and Acts. The crucifixion must precede Paul’s conversion.

The Window

Put all five constraints together and the practical window narrows to approximately AD 29 to AD 34. The crucifixion must fall within a year where Pilate is in office, John the Baptist has already begun preaching, at least three Passovers have occurred during Jesus’ ministry, Nisan 14 falls on a Wednesday, and the date is early enough to precede Paul’s conversion.

The Stars Have Kept Time

Astronomers can calculate the precise times of new moon conjunctions thousands of years into the past. The math is well-established and has been verified against ancient Babylonian and Chinese eclipse records with probable errors of only a few minutes, even for dates two thousand years ago.

But here is where it gets complicated.

The first-century Jewish calendar was not based on the calculated astronomical new moon — the conjunction, which is invisible. It was based on the observed first visible crescent of the new moon — the thin sliver of light that appears after sunset, typically one to two days after the conjunction. Each month began on the evening when this crescent was first spotted by observers in Jerusalem.

We can calculate when the astronomical new moon occurred with extraordinary precision. But we cannot know with certainty when human eyes in Jerusalem first saw the crescent. Cloud cover, atmospheric haze, dust storms, or simple variation in observer skill could delay the sighting by a day. A one-day delay shifts the start of the month by one day — and therefore shifts Nisan 14 by one day.

The most rigorous modern work on this problem was done by Colin Humphreys and W. Graeme Waddington of Oxford University, who published their calculations in Nature (1983) and the Journal of the American Scientific Affiliation (1985). They computed the visibility of the lunar crescent for each relevant month, taking into account the moon’s position, sky brightness, and visual contrast threshold for observers at Jerusalem’s latitude. Their work has been widely cited and substantially confirmed by subsequent researchers.

Additional calculations come from Sir Isaac Newton (published posthumously in 1733) and Jack Finegan’s Handbook of Biblical Chronology. While these sources use slightly different assumptions about crescent visibility and about the insertion of leap months, they converge on a consistent picture.

Here is what they found. The day of the week is the critical column.

Year | Nisan 14 (Julian Date) | Day of Week | Wednesday?
AD 27 | Mar 28 or Apr 11 | Friday | No
AD 28 | Apr 14 or Apr 28 | Wednesday | Yes
AD 29 | Apr 4–5 or Apr 18 | Monday | No
AD 30 | Apr 7 | Friday | No
AD 31 | Mar 27–28 or Apr 11–25 | Tues/Wed | Probable
AD 32 | Apr 14 | Monday | No
AD 33 | Apr 3 | Friday | No
AD 34 | Mar 24 or Apr 22–23 | Wed/Fri | Possible

Three years produce a Wednesday for Nisan 14: AD 28, AD 31, and possibly AD 34.

Now let’s apply the constraints.

Testing the Candidates

AD 28 — Too Early

If John the Baptist began preaching in the fifteenth year of Tiberius (AD 28–29), an AD 28 crucifixion leaves virtually no time for John’s ministry, Jesus’ baptism, or a public ministry spanning three Passovers. John’s Gospel alone records events across at least two and a half years. AD 28 does not provide enough time.

AD 34 — Too Late

AD 34 conflicts with the probable date of Paul’s conversion (approximately AD 33–34). It also requires assuming that an additional leap month was inserted — a possibility, but one with no supporting historical evidence for that specific year. Furthermore, AD 34 is only a Wednesday under certain calculation methods; others place it on a Friday. The evidence is thin.

AD 31 — The One That Fits

AD 31 is the only year in the AD 29–33 window where Nisan 14 plausibly falls on a Wednesday. Multiple independent calculations point to this year. Newton, applying the standard crescent visibility rule and the Jewish postponement practice, calculated Nisan 14 in AD 31 as Wednesday, March 28. Modern researchers using different methods have placed it on various dates in late March or April, with the day of the week falling on either Tuesday or Wednesday depending on the assumptions used. The Tuesday-versus-Wednesday variation reflects the observational uncertainty — a one-day difference in crescent sighting shifts the entire month by one day. Multiple calculations cluster around Wednesday. None of the major sources place it on a day that rules out Wednesday entirely.

Now check it against every constraint:

Pilate in office? Yes — AD 31 falls within his governorship (AD 26–36).

John the Baptist preaching? Yes — if John began in AD 28–29, he has been preaching for one to two years.

Three Passovers? Yes — if Jesus’ ministry began around AD 29, the three Passovers recorded in John would fall in AD 29, AD 30, and AD 31. The crucifixion occurs at the third. This gives a ministry of approximately two and a half years, consistent with the minimum required by John’s Gospel.

Early enough for Paul’s conversion? Yes — a crucifixion in AD 31 allows two to three years before Paul’s probable conversion in AD 33–34, during which the early church in Jerusalem would grow and the persecution that triggered Paul’s involvement would develop.

Every constraint is satisfied. No other year in the range does this while also producing a Wednesday.

What We Do Not Know

Before we draw any conclusion, honesty requires us to say plainly what we do not and cannot know.

The Observational Calendar

The first-century calendar was determined by direct observation, not by mathematical calculation. We can calculate when the astronomical new moon occurred with extraordinary precision. We cannot know exactly when human eyes saw the crescent. Cloud cover, atmospheric transparency, dust from a khamsin wind, or even a one-day dispute among the observers could shift the start of the month — and therefore Nisan 14 — by one day.

This introduces an irreducible uncertainty of plus or minus one day. We can say that Nisan 14 in AD 31 very probably fell on a Wednesday. We cannot say it with absolute certainty.

Leap Months

The Hebrew calendar periodically inserted a thirteenth month — a leap month before Nisan — to keep the lunar calendar aligned with the agricultural seasons. In the first century, this decision was made annually by the Sanhedrin based on whether the barley crop would be ripe enough by the time of the Feast of Firstfruits and whether Passover would fall after the vernal equinox.

We have no historical records of when leap months were actually proclaimed in the AD 26–36 period. If a leap month was inserted in a year when modern calculations do not assume one — or the reverse — the date of Nisan 14 could shift by approximately thirty days, potentially changing both the Julian date and the day of the week.

For AD 31, the astronomical data does not suggest an obvious need for a leap month under normal conditions. But “normal conditions” is an assumption. Unusually late barley growth or heavy rains could have triggered an insertion that we cannot detect from this distance.

Postponement Rules

The modern Jewish calendar, formalized by Hillel II around AD 359, includes specific rules for postponing the start of certain months. Whether these rules were in use in the first century is debated. Newton applied one such rule and arrived at his Wednesday, March 28 date. Without that rule, his calculation gives Tuesday, March 27. The difference is one day — which falls within the observational uncertainty already noted.

What This Means

None of these limitations invalidate the investigation. They define its boundaries. The astronomical data is precise. The text is clear. But the bridge between them — the actual observational practices of first-century Jerusalem — carries a degree of uncertainty that cannot be eliminated with the information available to us.

We state these limitations not as fine print but as part of the investigation itself. If we are going to show our work when the evidence is strong, we should show it when the evidence has limits, too.

A Word About the Inherited Assumption

Nearly all of the astronomical work done on dating the crucifixion — from Newton in 1733 to Humphreys and Waddington in 1983 to researchers publishing today — has been conducted under a single assumption: that the crucifixion occurred on a Friday. This assumption comes from the tradition we addressed in Chapter 10 — the reading of “the day of preparation” as meaning Friday, the day before the weekly Sabbath.

As we saw in Chapter 10, John 19:31 identifies the Sabbath following the crucifixion as “a high day” — not the weekly Sabbath but the feast-day Sabbath of Nisan 15. The spice sequence requires two Sabbaths with a working day between them. And three literal days and three literal nights cannot fit between Friday afternoon and Sunday dawn.

The consequence for the astronomical investigation is significant. When Humphreys and Waddington identified AD 30 and AD 33 as the only two years where Nisan 14 fell on a Friday, they were solving for the correct day of the month — Nisan 14 — but the wrong day of the week. Their astronomical calculations are sound. Their Nisan 14 identification is consistent with the text. Their Friday requirement is not.

When the same astronomical data is examined for years where Nisan 14 falls on a Wednesday instead of a Friday, the field changes entirely. AD 30 and AD 33 drop out. AD 31 emerges.

This is not a criticism of these researchers’ methods, which are excellent. It is a correction of the inherited assumption they were working from.

What We Believe the Evidence Shows

We believe the evidence points strongly in one direction.

The textual evidence establishes that Jesus was crucified on Nisan 14, a Wednesday, with burial completed before sundown. The astronomical data shows that within the plausible window of AD 29 to AD 34, only one year produces a Wednesday for Nisan 14 while satisfying every other textual constraint: AD 31.

We believe AD 31 is the strongest candidate for the year of the crucifixion. We hold that conclusion honestly, with the limitations stated above, and we invite you to examine both the text and the data for yourself.

What This Does Not Change

Nothing about our faith, our worship, or our understanding of what God accomplished through the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus Christ depends on identifying the exact year. The cross is not more powerful if we know the calendar date. The tomb is not more empty. The text tells us what happened, and the text is what we build on.

What It Adds

But for those who want to see how precisely God orchestrated the fulfillment of His own pattern — the Passover lamb selected on Nisan 10, examined for four days, killed on Nisan 14 at the appointed hour, with three days and three nights in the heart of the earth — the convergence of the textual evidence and the astronomical data in a single year is remarkable.

The text tells us the sequence. The astronomy narrows the “when” to one highly probable year. Together, they point to a Wednesday in the spring of AD 31 as the day the Lamb of God was killed — at the exact hour, on the exact day, in the exact pattern that God established in Exodus 12 fifteen centuries earlier.

The tradition is old. But the text is older. And the stars have kept God’s time from the beginning.

Epilogue

The Thread Completed

We started this book with a thread — a promise buried inside a curse, spoken in a garden before the man and the woman had even left it.

A descendant of the woman would crush the serpent’s head.

That thread ran through Abraham — “in your seed all the nations of the earth shall be blessed.” Through Judah — “the scepter shall not depart.” Through David — “I will establish the throne of his kingdom forever.” Through Bethlehem — too small to be counted, but chosen anyway. Through Isaiah — “like a lamb that is led to slaughter.”

And through Moses. On a night in Egypt, God gave His people a lamb. He told them when to select it. He told them how long to keep it. He told them when to kill it. He told them where to put the blood. And He told them that when He saw the blood, death would pass over.

That was the blueprint.

We have now walked through the week when the blueprint became reality.

The Lamb entered Jerusalem on the day the Passover lamb was to be selected. He was questioned and examined by every authority in Israel during the days the lamb was to be kept. No one found fault. He was killed on the afternoon of the day the lamb was to be killed — and His blood was poured out so that death would pass over those who are covered by it.

Three days and three nights He lay in the tomb. Just as He said. Just as Jonah. And on the other side of those three days, the stone was moved, the tomb was empty, and the silence was over.

The seed crushed the serpent’s head.

The thread that began in a garden reached its purpose in an empty tomb.

But the empty tomb is not just the end of a pattern. It is the beginning of something new.

When Jesus breathed His last on that cross, the veil of the temple — the barrier between God and man — was torn in two from top to bottom (Matthew 27:51). The writer of Hebrews tells us what that means: we now have “confidence to enter the holy place by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way which He inaugurated for us through the veil, that is, His flesh” (Hebrews 10:19–20). The distance is gone. The way is open.

And because He rose, something else is true. He is “the first fruits of those who are asleep” (1 Corinthians 15:20). His resurrection is not just proof that He was who He said He was — it is the promise that death does not have the final word for anyone who belongs to Him. “For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ all will be made alive” (1 Corinthians 15:22). That is the hope — not a wish, but a certainty grounded in an empty tomb.

The blood has been applied. The veil has been torn. The Lamb is alive. And the door that He opened will never close.

Peter told the crowd in Jerusalem what to do with that open door: “Repent, and each of you be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins” (Acts 2:38). Three thousand walked through it that day (Acts 2:41). The invitation has been standing ever since.

This book has been about a week — one week, traced day by day from the text. But the week points beyond itself. It points to a Lamb whose blood still speaks, a tomb that is still empty, and a door that is still open.

What you do with that is between you and God.

We have tried, throughout this book, to let the text speak for itself. Where it is explicit, we have said so. Where our conclusions required inference, we have identified them as inference. Where we do not know, we have said we do not know.

We have not asked you to take our word for anything. Every passage is cited. Every step of reasoning is shown. You can open your Bible and check every claim we have made. We would not want it any other way.

What we have asked is that you be willing to follow the text — even when it leads somewhere different from what you were taught. Not because tradition is bad, but because the text has the authority. When the two disagree, the text wins. It always wins.

The tradition is old. But the text is older.

And the God who designed the Passover in Egypt, who wrote the pattern into the Law, who sent prophets to describe the suffering servant centuries before He arrived, who brought His Son into the world at the appointed time, and who raised Him from the dead on the appointed day — that God does not do things approximately.

He does them precisely.

Down to the day. Down to the hour.

All Scripture quotations are from the New American Standard Bible (NASB).

No commentaries, no scholars, no denominational positions were consulted in the preparation of this study. The text was the only source.

Paul & Pam | NobleMind.Study