I missed Maundy Thursday services this year, which is a shame because of how the events of one day run right into the next in the life of Christ. For Jesus of Nazareth, there was no going to sleep that night. It was all one long ordeal, ending in death.
Late Thursday night found Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, at the foot of Mount Olivet, just outside of Jerusalem. His closest disciples nodded off while their leader prayed fervently. He dreaded what was coming so much that the Gospel of Luke tells us he was sweating blood.
With good reason. A detachment of Romans soldiers in the service of the Jewish temple authorities showed up. Turncoat disciple Judas, whose feet Jesus had stooped to wash only hours earlier, singled the rabbi out with a kiss on the cheek.
Simon Peter has been damned for his cowardice in the events that followed. He denied knowing Jesus again and again before a rooster brought in the morning and is thus called craven. Confused beyond belief is probably a better way of putting it.
Any time Romans laid hands on a would-be messiah, there tended to be buckets of blood shed. In this case, the only bloodletting was comical.