Name Your Price

Matthew 26:14-16

It is a paltry price to pay for the life of a human being—around $6000 in our money. Isn’t your life worth more than $6000? Is even trying consider a monetary amount to affix to your life worth doing? Life is priceless—our lives especially so. There is no amount of money that can replace one of us—something that happens when we grieve the loss of a dear one—no monetary settlement brings them back.

Yet, here is Judas bargaining away the life of Jesus, his teacher, his mentor, and, I would argue, his friend. 

$6000—that was price of betrayal.

Now, it is far too easy to sit in judgment of Judas and to boldly declare that we would never do such a thing to anyone near and dear to us, nor even to someone we hardly know. People just don’t do that!

But we do.

And we do it far more often and far more readily than any of us would like to admit.

How?

Simple—look at Judas’ comment as he approaches the Temple leadership—What will you give me? That question says a lot. It is also a question that could well define our particular time and place—it is the leading question before we join a group; it is the leading question before we make an investment; and sometimes it is the leading question before we enter a relationship—What’s in it for me? What do I get out of this? 

That approach to life and community immediately sets a price on everything done. It completely defines our participation in much of anything by a cost-benefit analysis. It means that our participation depends solely on what benefit we will receive. Insidiously, it turns everything into a matter of self—everything gets run through the filter of me. 

Should that approach truly become the defining standard for our ways and means, it becomes astounding how low a price we set for ignoring someone, passing someone by, or denying someone a service—to visit adds thirty minutes to my trip; if I participate in the grocery store’s campaign to buy meals for the hungry, it will add TEN dollars to my bill; if I stop by the hospital on my way, it means I will miss lunch…if it is going to cost me, then, thank you, but no…

Of course, as we listen to these examples, we echo the disciples at Jesus’ last dinner table—not me; surely it isn’t me, Lord; I won’t do that…—yet, we know in our heart of hearts how often we do exactly such things, and often with people we claim as the dearest to us. 

All right—now we move from confession to pardon—

What do we need to do?

First, look back at how Matthew frames this story—Judas winds up with the Temple folk because he is disappointed. He witnessed Jesus accept a gift beyond measure when a woman—a woman from the street, mind you—embarrassed herself and everybody with Jesus when she flung herself on him, bathing him with tears, and cracking open a jar of ointment that cost a fortune (what a complete waste!)—and Jesus simply accepted it and even AFFIRMED her! Good gracious! We can hear the wheels turning in Judas’ mind—Jesus needs a refresher in why we’re here! He needs to get his priorities straight! Nothing like a little confrontation with those thorns in his side to get him back on track…I have always imagined that Judas went through all he did completely convinced he was doing the right thing and was even being helpful! But he is completely out of focus. Note that—our main struggle in faith praxis is to always see Jesus as Jesus sees Jesus. That perspective has to be rigorously maintained. That will take discipline and vigilance. 

Second, go with your heart. Your heart knows there are some things beyond price, and love—true, actual, and godly love—is surely one of them. The next time your mind begins to tally up costs when faced with doing something that will bring Christ to another person, silence the mental accountant—it has no place here. Doing the right thing is the right thing, no matter the cost. Had Judas simply acted on his heart—Jesus loved him; he loved Jesus—then he would have remained on sure ground. No, we may not always understand what Jesus does or what he says, but love tells us to trust him. Jesus may well confound us with whom he touches, accepts, and calls into the group; but trust him—he sees through the eyes of God. Jesus needs no assist from us. Jesus needs no reminders. If something weird is afoot, see it through to see what happens—it may well be the dawn of the kingdom of God before us. 

As we take these two tasks to heart, we lay a foundation for truly becoming disciples of the Lord. We realize there is no price on faith. Faith is valuable because it is faith. Being freed of price, we find true worth and value.