A third puzzling statement is found in Jesus' response to James and John. Are they ready to drink the cup that he himself was to drink, and to be baptized with the baptism with which he was baptized? The "chalice", also mentioned in the description of the scene in the Garden of Gethsemane, symbolizes suffering and martyrdom. In the prophetic writings, it is often called the cup of the Lord's wrath. The word "baptism" probably referred to the trials that awaited Jesus, as indicated by John's baptism, which symbolized the Exodus from Egypt. Jesus was to share the fate of Israel and thus usher in the true Exodus.

I have been able to consider these three statements only in the briefest form. But if we use them as a means of interpreting the main symbolic action of the Easter meal, the picture is very clear. Jesus evidently regarded his own death as a central part of his calling, which inextricably linked his ministry to the destiny of Israel. This sheds light on the prophecies of suffering so numerous in the synoptic gospels. Their authenticity continues to be questioned, but the Last Supper and the explanations we have studied provide the necessary basis for their interpretation.

All of this becomes clearer in the context of the belief of the Jews of the Second Temple era in the coming eschatological redemption, as Albert Schweitzer noted a century ago. Redemption had to be preceded by a period of terrible suffering, called the Messianic Tribulation. Terrible calamities will befall Israel, but then a new age of redemption and forgiveness of sins will come. According to Schweitzer, Jesus foresaw the coming trials, the periasmos, and wanted to take on their burden. This explains his exhortation to his disciples to watch and pray so as not to be subjected to "periasmos." Such assumptions acquire special credibility if we compare them with the stories about the Jews, who also considered themselves the bearers of the sufferings of the Israeli people: the Maccabean martyrs, prophets and the righteous man, whose persecution, death and retribution are described in the Book of the Wisdom of Solomon (chapters 2-3). Similar themes are raised in the Qumran narratives.

At the heart of these movements were various biblical texts: the Psalms, the books of the prophets Daniel, Zechariah, Ezekiel and, of course, Isaiah, in particular, passages from chapters 40 to 55 dedicated to the righteous Servant of God. I do not think that the Jews in the Second Temple era already considered this image outside the context of Isaiah's prophecies, or that they used the image of the Servant as the basis for a special doctrine of atonement, but rather that all these writings testify to their belief that the suffering of Israel must have been borne by one particular person. Therefore, it makes no sense to talk about the belief of the Jews of the pre-Christian era in the "Servant of God" – the Messiah who was destined to sympathize and die to atone for the sins of Israel and the whole world.

However, there was also something, as evidenced by dozens of texts, most notably Isaiah, namely, the widespread belief in the mo that Israel's suffering was part of a single divine plan. The day will come when the sorrow will come to an end. The present state of affairs is explained by the sin of Israel itself. But the sufferings of the people were supposed to hasten the end of nourishment, the cleansing of sin and liberation from captivity. His faith was born not in abstract reasoning, but in poverty, torment, and exile. The Jews were not only convinced that Yahweh would deliver Israel from tribulation in due time. Surprisingly, in a sense, suffering itself had to be a means of redemption.

I believe that the person and identity of Jesus at death's door must be seen within the framework of this worldview.

It is possible to reconstruct with certainty the mindset that led a first-century Jew to conclude that Yahweh would choose as his instrument one man who would bear the punishment of all Israel, and his suffering would be filled with exceptional meaning. At the same time, it is not difficult to believe that any of the Israelites could imagine themselves in the place of this man. Therefore, we are justified in assuming that Jesus had similar thoughts. Let me dwell on this in more detail.

Jesus knew that the history of Israel, and in particular the expulsion of Israel, had reached its climax. He considered himself responsible for the fate of the people at this decisive hour. He, the Messiah, had to take upon himself the entire burden of such a fate and bring it to its logical conclusion. Jesus had pronounced Yahweh's judgment on his rebellious people, and now, like the prophets of old, he was in mortal danger. He proclaimed that the path to the Kingdom of God is the way of the cross of peace and love. To fight with the enemy's weapons meant for Israel to suffer a partial and then a complete defeat. Jesus saw his role and calling in taking the place of the vanquished in the name of the salvation of the people. And then the light of Israel could shine again not only for the sake of the Israelites alone, as the Maccabean martyrs thought only of the liberation of their homeland, but also for the whole world.

Like these martyrs, Jesus suffered the consequences of Israel's moral corruption.

Israel played a dangerous game with paganism, the invariable consequence of which was the suffering endured by the martyrs. In contrast, Jesus regarded the very desire to fight paganism as a sign of moral decay. Israel was the hotbed of a nationalist revolutionary movement, and the punishment for which was to be Roman battles, destroyed buildings, and an endless row of crosses outside the city wall. Jesus was preparing to bear such a cross himself for the salvation of Israel. Summing up his npumcha, he told the people its history at the last time, giving it a new, amazing sound. However, the narrator this time turned out to be not a wandering philosopher, but the king of his own beloved city, exiled for his own time.

In doing so, he was to fulfill Israel's destiny to serve the world and be the light in it.

That is how I think Jesus understood his Messianic calling. We already know that the Messiah was to rebuild (or cleanse) the Temple and engage in battle with Israel's enemies. What did Jesus intend to do to accomplish these tasks?

First of all, he had no intention of restoring the Temple in its material form. He himself was preparing to become the place and means of realization of all that the Temple represented. Jesus was the embodiment of the reality symbolized by the sacrificial system. In his ministry, he avoided the Temple, offering a petition to everyone without exception by his own authority. Now he was going to his death, desiring by this last and greatest symbolic example to show men the way by which all that had previously been connected with sacrifice had become accessible through himself.

Jesus was also ready to engage in the Messianic battle. He had already laid out his terms; He who wants to save his life will lose it, but he who loses it will gain it. Instead of heaping insults and threats upon his accusers like the martyrs of old, Jesus, as evidenced by the many faces of early Christian tradition, suffered in silence, uttering only words of forgiveness and hope. Such behavior, so unusual for a martyr, defies any explanation, and yet it is a reliable historical fact. Throughout his life, Jesus amazed those around him with his amazing ability to be compassionate. His last podvig fully revealed his determination to give his life for the salvation of his neighbors, of which the early Church spoke so often and with such reverence.