Philippians 2:5-11
Luke 22:14-23
“The
one who betrays Me is with Me, and his hand is on the table.” Luke
22:21
We
know by what plays out that Jesus was referring to Judas Iscariot (Luke 22) as the “one who betrays Me”. In that moment, however, the disciples were
not aware that it was Judas. They may
even have had doubts about themselves and/or one another. Sadly, however, we know how the story
ends.
Yet the story does not quite end at the Table – not for
us. The author of the Letter to the Hebrews essentially asks, ‘How many times can we betray Him? How many times must He be crucified?’ (Hebrews
6:4-6). And although the author
seems to suggest that once we betray Christ after having “tasted the good word of God”,
we may not be able to find our way back.
Yet we are compelled to embrace the call of our Holy Father to “seek
Me while I may be found”; calling out to His people time and again in
the midst of their own sorrow, I’m still
here.
It is a little too easy to assign this drama to simply
“God’s will”, for it cannot be said to be “God’s will” that Judas – or anyone,
for that matter – to face the “woe” that is coming to the one who would dare to
betray Jesus. There is a lot more at
stake than in only this single moment.
Jesus expressed the anguish He must have felt in
trying to gather His people “as a mother hen gathers her brood under her
wings … but you were not willing”.
So if our Lord expressed His anguish and His broken heart in such a way
even before He was betrayed by His friends,
how much more so the depth of His sorrow that as He broke the bread of the
Supper to express what would become His broken body, He still looked His
betrayer in the eyes.
As we prepare ourselves for the journey that is Holy
Week, when the Scripture invites us to explore the broad weakness of humanity
and the depths to which we often fall, we will soon find ourselves at the foot
of the Cross and looking up into the sorrowful eyes of Jesus; and even while He
struggles to breathe, He will utter the most profound prayer of His life on
this earth: “Father, forgive them. They don’t
know what they’re doing”.
The reality of 2000 years of Christian history and
teaching, however, denies us any legitimate claim of spiritual ignorance as it
pertains to betrayal of our faith and our God.
I seriously doubt there are any among us seated in churches across the
world who can honestly claim, “I didn’t know”.
“I didn’t know” my innocuous sin, my harmless “white lies”, my love for
my stuff and my money (after all, are these things not blessings from Above?),
my spitefulness against those whom I do not like, my greed against those in
desperate need, my refusal to forgive those who had harmed me or slighted me;
was doing any real harm, spiritual or otherwise. And yet having “tasted the good Word of God”,
ignorance is no longer a viable claim. IF we have actually tasted it.
“How could anyone do such a thing” as betray our Lord,
we ask as we read the Gospel accounts of that very betrayal, without realizing this
story involves us all today? We prefer
Judas the scapegoat rather than ourselves.
I get that Passion Sunday and Holy Week are hard. I get that when we are completely honest with
ourselves, these events about to unfold demand more from us than we are often willing
to give. I get that it is much easier to
jump straight from Christmas to Easter, and pay attention to only the “happy”
stuff. I get that we already have
beliefs firmly entrenched in our minds and how uncomfortable it is to discover
we may have not looked closely enough.
Yet just as the birth of Messiah didn’t spring up from
nothing, we cannot experience the Resurrection without first experiencing death. And that, my friends, is the “castor oil” of
the Christian faith; often ignored or overlooked. It is bitter to swallow, but it is absolutely
necessary for our spiritual well-being.
To follow Christ in discipleship transcends mere “belief”. Discipleship requires, quite literally, that
we model the very life of Christ in our daily living.
As St. Paul wrote to the Philippians, having the mind
of Christ means we do not regard our form (as the Image in which we are
created) or our justification as something to be exploited, something to be used
only for our own benefit, personal
gratification, or sense of self-righteousness.
Rather, we are called to “empty” ourselves as Christ did, take the form
of a slave as Christ did … and be willing to be obedient as Christ was – even at
the cost of the life we once knew.
For us this means death to our fleshly desires, death
to our personal demands, death to our sense of entitlement in whatever form it
may come … death to self. That is, we as
individuals cease to exist but become, instead, much bigger and more vital
parts of the very Body of Christ. This must
become our identity, for this becomes our salvation … but not before we are
prepared to persevere to the end (Matthew
10:22).
“Who could do such a thing” as to betray the One who
challenged the repressive religious orthodoxy of His day? To betray the One who, even within the Law,
gave meaning to that very Law beyond “thou shalt not”. To betray the One who did nothing more than
to convey the eternal Truth that our Holy Creator and Father loves us with a
love the depth of which cannot be measured by human standards? To betray the One whose only “sin” was to
challenge us to step outside of “self” and ultimately find real meaning in discipleship
and living by giving ourselves completely to Him? Not as a concept to be talked about only on
Sunday but as the existential part of our being which we experience all day,
every day.
An agnostic friend recently shared with me his utter
dismay at how nasty this election season has gotten, and ironically made even
nastier still by so-called “evangelical” Christians who convey nothing but fear,
suspicion, anguish, and raw hatred! The
very things we claim to have been “saved” from are the very things that seem to
be motivating us! The word my friend
used – regarding Christianity as he sees it – is “superficial”.
That is, it seems to be only a “surface” expression, a
cultural identity that has no depth, no meaning except what we assign to it
ourselves as was expressed by Peter ("Lord, I’ll follow you to the bitter
end”) without realizing Peter was not being entirely honest with
himself. I’m sure he meant it when he
said it, but he nor the rest of the disciples had seriously considered what was
happening, what was about to unfold, what was to become the full “cost” of being
a disciple that has no personal privilege whatsoever. The truth may be that though they certainly “liked”
Jesus, they did not really believe Him.
“[The
disciples] began to ask one another which one of them it could be who would do
[such a thing as betray Jesus]” (Matthew 22:23). The more
honest question for us, given the currently perceived shallow climate of
Christianity, is: who among us wouldn’t … for a little extra cash? That is, of course, if we are willing to be
honest. If we are willing to literally
walk with and follow Jesus and perhaps discover, to our own dismay, that the real “cost” of discipleship may be more
than we are willing to bear.
“Who could do such a thing”? The Lord our God willing, may we never have
to find out the hard way. Amen.
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