Wednesday of Holy Week – March 31, 2010
Matthew 26:14 – 25
Then one of the Twelve—the one called Judas Iscariot—went to the chief priests and asked, "What are you willing to give me if I deliver him over to you?" So they counted out for him thirty pieces of silver. From then on Judas watched for an opportunity to hand him over.
On the first day of the Festival of Unleavened Bread, the disciples came to Jesus and asked, "Where do you want us to make preparations for you to eat the Passover?"
He replied, "Go into the city to a certain man and tell him, 'The Teacher says: My appointed time is near. I am going to celebrate the Passover with my disciples at your house.' " So the disciples did as Jesus had directed them and prepared the Passover.
When evening came, Jesus was reclining at the table with the Twelve. And while they were eating, he said, "Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me."
They were very sad and began to say to him one after the other, "Surely not I, Lord?"
Jesus replied, "The one who has dipped his hand into the bowl with me will betray me. The Son of Man will go just as it is written about him. But woe to that man who betrays the Son of Man! It would be better for him if he had not been born."
Then Judas, the one who would betray him, said, "Surely not I, Rabbi?"
Jesus answered, "You have said so."
The Gospel writers knew what those sitting around the table did not know. In hindsight, the writers knew that Judas betrayed Jesus, that he sold him to the authorities for thirty pieces of silver.
Because of this after-the-fact knowing, these writers were free to editorialize about Judas and his role of traitor. They looked back with a different set of eyes. They attributed motives to him. They began to see all the actions of Judas in light of his act of betrayal.
All those centuries ago they succumbed to the temptation to demonize Judas. We tend to do the same thing in our day.
Many years ago I heard that the Great Passion Play at Oberammergau in Germany had trouble casting the role of Judas in their once-a-decade production. Many persons wanted to play Jesus or one of the other disciples, but no one wanted to audition for the role of Judas. Who wants to be Judas? After all, who consciously wants to betray Christ?
Yet the text mysteriously says that the betrayer would be “the one who has dipped his hand into the bowl with me.” Wouldn’t that have included all the disciples present? Didn’t they all partake of the meal? I suppose this could explain why the story suggests that the disciples were so confused about the identity of the betrayer. The way we read it, Judas is the obvious choice. But to those who actually sat around the table with Jesus, it could have been any of them, because they all dipped their hand in the cup. So they said to Jesus, one after another, “Surely not I, Lord?”
Further, if we were to look at the inner landscape of each person sharing that meal, we’d probably find that they each had some small recognition of their own capacity to turn on Jesus in order to save their own skin.
The reality is that we all betray. Judas may have stood front and center, but we are let off the hook no more than the first disciples. The impulse to look after ourselves is just as strong in us as it was in those early followers of Jesus.
You and I have the capacity to betray. Perhaps recognizing ourselves as possible traitors would make receiving Holy Communion a different act. We take the bread and dip it into the cup just as Judas did. Communion, then, is about the company of betrayers gathered for a meal by the One who yet looks through our twisted hearts and our shame.
My friend wrote a song that imagines what would have happened had Judas come back to Jesus instead of running to hang himself. The song is called, “Judas Come Home.” The line Jesus sings to Judas that I remember most poignantly says simply, “I freely love failures and traitors.”
Then one of the Twelve—the one called Judas Iscariot—went to the chief priests and asked, "What are you willing to give me if I deliver him over to you?" So they counted out for him thirty pieces of silver. From then on Judas watched for an opportunity to hand him over.
On the first day of the Festival of Unleavened Bread, the disciples came to Jesus and asked, "Where do you want us to make preparations for you to eat the Passover?"
He replied, "Go into the city to a certain man and tell him, 'The Teacher says: My appointed time is near. I am going to celebrate the Passover with my disciples at your house.' " So the disciples did as Jesus had directed them and prepared the Passover.
When evening came, Jesus was reclining at the table with the Twelve. And while they were eating, he said, "Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me."
They were very sad and began to say to him one after the other, "Surely not I, Lord?"
Jesus replied, "The one who has dipped his hand into the bowl with me will betray me. The Son of Man will go just as it is written about him. But woe to that man who betrays the Son of Man! It would be better for him if he had not been born."
Then Judas, the one who would betray him, said, "Surely not I, Rabbi?"
Jesus answered, "You have said so."
The Gospel writers knew what those sitting around the table did not know. In hindsight, the writers knew that Judas betrayed Jesus, that he sold him to the authorities for thirty pieces of silver.
Because of this after-the-fact knowing, these writers were free to editorialize about Judas and his role of traitor. They looked back with a different set of eyes. They attributed motives to him. They began to see all the actions of Judas in light of his act of betrayal.
All those centuries ago they succumbed to the temptation to demonize Judas. We tend to do the same thing in our day.
Many years ago I heard that the Great Passion Play at Oberammergau in Germany had trouble casting the role of Judas in their once-a-decade production. Many persons wanted to play Jesus or one of the other disciples, but no one wanted to audition for the role of Judas. Who wants to be Judas? After all, who consciously wants to betray Christ?
Yet the text mysteriously says that the betrayer would be “the one who has dipped his hand into the bowl with me.” Wouldn’t that have included all the disciples present? Didn’t they all partake of the meal? I suppose this could explain why the story suggests that the disciples were so confused about the identity of the betrayer. The way we read it, Judas is the obvious choice. But to those who actually sat around the table with Jesus, it could have been any of them, because they all dipped their hand in the cup. So they said to Jesus, one after another, “Surely not I, Lord?”
Further, if we were to look at the inner landscape of each person sharing that meal, we’d probably find that they each had some small recognition of their own capacity to turn on Jesus in order to save their own skin.
The reality is that we all betray. Judas may have stood front and center, but we are let off the hook no more than the first disciples. The impulse to look after ourselves is just as strong in us as it was in those early followers of Jesus.
You and I have the capacity to betray. Perhaps recognizing ourselves as possible traitors would make receiving Holy Communion a different act. We take the bread and dip it into the cup just as Judas did. Communion, then, is about the company of betrayers gathered for a meal by the One who yet looks through our twisted hearts and our shame.
My friend wrote a song that imagines what would have happened had Judas come back to Jesus instead of running to hang himself. The song is called, “Judas Come Home.” The line Jesus sings to Judas that I remember most poignantly says simply, “I freely love failures and traitors.”
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