Holy Wednesday

Matthew 26:14-16

Judas is the most discomfiting of the Twelve because he is the one mostly akin to most of us, even as we recoil from that observation and designation. No one wants to be Judas—traitor? betrayer? failure? Who wants to walk in those shoes? Yet as we walk following Jesus we will inevitably hit that moment when we realize we do not measure up, we do not meet our own self-imposed standards for being Christian, and the truth of our inner hypocrisy is inescapable. We will proclaim our care for the poor, but then never seem to find our way to the soup kitchen to make a meal; we speak of the need to be present in the suffering of others, but find other things to do when it comes time to visit in a hospital; we speak of how we should welcome whoever is before us, but then find ourselves shying away from the stranger in the parking lot—our proclamations become haunting. We may even cry with Peter, “Lord, who can be saved?” We fall into resignation—we believe, we will go to church, but we will ask no more of ourselves, reducing our faith to a weekly habit. 

And there is Judas.

But I promise you that there is grace in his story—real and actual redeeming grace. To find it, there are four points to consider.

CHANGE PERSPECTIVES

As the Gospels lead into describing Judas’ act of betrayal, selling Jesus out for a few dollars, they hint that Judas acted because of how he saw things unfolding after Jesus entered Jerusalem for his final visit. The Matthew version listed here is a good example—Matthew places Judas’ meeting with the Sanhedrin (the Temple council of elders) right after the dinner wherein a woman from the street anointed Jesus during the meal. The whole scene was wrong from the standpoint of a practicing Jew—a) Jesus allows himself to be handled by a ritually unclean woman, something no holy man would do; b) the expense of the ointments is outrageous, and for a group on a tight budget trying to rework the social milieu of the day, a crime to waste; and c) Jesus’ acceptance and affirmation of the act is tantamount to a complete fall into hypocrisy. Moreover, three days earlier, all was set for a revolutionary riot to begin the civil upheaval necessary to rid Israel of Rome and cleanse her of all collaborators with the oppressors, but after cleansing the Temple, Jesus did nothing to seize the moment, seemingly content to sit and teach—no more, no less—he needs a kickstart! 

But Judas only sees the situation through his eyes—he never asks Jesus what is going on; he never asks for further elaboration—he simply assumes that things are as he sees them. The obvious warning here is that none of us has omniscient vision—we cannot see everything that is happening in its fullest view, understanding everything we see. We might think we are seeing someone abuse someone else, but unbeknownst to us, they are applying the Heimlich Maneuver. Judas might have done other than he did had he been able to simply see Jesus as Christ, allowing Jesus to do what needed to be done as Jesus saw fit to do it. We need to let God be God, confessing our inability to always see things as God does.

PATIENCE

A second point that comes through the story is a call to patience. Returning to our earlier speculations—and the Gospels are open enough to allow much speculation with Judas—perhaps Judas was motivated by impatience. Things were not moving quickly enough—things weren’t moving at all! Judas decides to take matters into his own hands. Nothing happens, so he will make things happen.

And then comes the crash—I will never forget my first auto accident—I was blocked by a line of traffic, as soon as a gap appeared, I floored it, shot through—and right into the path of a car coming the other way—BOOM! Some lessons in patience hurt! 

What might have helped Judas wait longer? 

We are back with the need to let God lead. 

LOVE FOR SALE

In Judas’ impatient, self-inflicted blindness, he sells his love. This point is the most hurtful. What price does love carry? Thirty pieces of silver? Is it really that cheap? Is that all the depth his loyalty, connection, and presence are worth? 

Sadly, we see this scenario played out all around us a lot of the time. We find relationships broken because they became inconvenient—or boring—or ungratifying—or hard—or anything else that made them too expensive to continue, so we sell them out. Something else or someone else comes along with a better offer, and we are gone. 

And sometimes the price is a lot less than thirty pieces of silver. 

LOSE CONTROL

Which leads directly into the final point—faith means allowing God to lead. Now, here, we encounter a strange irony, and a completely different way to view Judas—one that contradicts all that we have speculated thus far—the Gospels indicate that Judas’ action was absolutely essential to the realization of God’s will for Christ. So what if rather than being the most singularly abject villain, instead Judas is one of the most miraculous embodiments of faith we have ever seen? He plays the role assigned to him. He asks no questions, makes no excuses, and, when Jesus’ dismisses him from the table, he goes (cf. Jn. 13:26-27). Maybe Judas was neither blinded by self-interest or deluded by impatience—maybe he was simply being a wondrous disciple. Here is perfect obedience to God. Here is total self-emptying before the will of God. 

Here is complete confusion!

Immediately, all sorts of question rise within us—why would God ask that of anyone? why did Judas do it? did God simply create Judas to damn him? —all good questions, but beside the point here. The point is that faith is obedience. We conform our being to God’s demands. we trust God to be good, and we trust God’s grace to be present even in the most confounding of circumstances. God calls, we answer; Jesus intones, “Follow me,” and we follow, perhaps even leaving dear, old dad in the boat (cf. the call of James and John). 

Judas is and always will be God’s man—the servant working within the Kingdom.

And that is the most ultimate form of grace there can be—it takes what the whole world would declare the absolute denigration of oneself, turning it into a moment of complete and utter redemption—a wondrous step in God’s salvation of the cosmos. 

That is God.

That is the power of God.

Hear and believe this good news.