July 11, 2021: It's . . . Complicated
Mark 14:1-2, 10-21, 32-50
Rev. Rhonda Blevins
Now the Passover and the Festival of Unleavened Bread were only two days away, and the chief priests and the teachers of the law were scheming to arrest Jesus secretly and kill him. “But not during the festival,” they said, “or the people may riot.” Then Judas Iscariot, one of the Twelve, went to the chief priests to betray Jesus to them. 11 They were delighted to hear this and promised to give him money. So he watched for an opportunity to hand him over. On the first day of the Festival of Unleavened Bread, when it was customary to sacrifice the Passover lamb, Jesus’ disciples asked him, “Where do you want us to go and make preparations for you to eat the Passover?” So he sent two of his disciples, telling them, “Go into the city, and a man carrying a jar of water will meet you. Follow him. Say to the owner of the house he enters, ‘The Teacher asks: Where is my guest room, where I may eat the Passover with my disciples?’ 15 He will show you a large room upstairs, furnished and ready. Make preparations for us there.” The disciples left, went into the city and found things just as Jesus had told them. So they prepared the Passover. When evening came, Jesus arrived with the Twelve. 18 While they were reclining at the table eating, he said, “Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me—one who is eating with me.” They were saddened, and one by one they said to him, “Surely you don’t mean me?” “It is one of the Twelve,” he replied, “one who dips bread into the bowl with 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.”
They went to a place called Gethsemane, and Jesus said to his disciples, “Sit here while I pray.” He took Peter, James and John along with him, and he began to be deeply distressed and troubled. “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death,” he said to them. “Stay here and keep watch.” Going a little farther, he fell to the ground and prayed that if possible the hour might pass from him. “Abba, Father,” he said, “everything is possible for you. Take this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will.” Then he returned to his disciples and found them sleeping. “Simon,” he said to Peter, “are you asleep? Couldn’t you keep watch for one hour? Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.” Once more he went away and prayed the same thing. When he came back, he again found them sleeping, because their eyes were heavy. They did not know what to say to him. Returning the third time, he said to them, “Are you still sleeping and resting? Enough! The hour has come. Look, the Son of Man is delivered into the hands of sinners. Rise! Let us go! Here comes my betrayer!” Just as he was speaking, Judas, one of the Twelve, appeared. With him was a crowd armed with swords and clubs, sent from the chief priests, the teachers of the law, and the elders. Now the betrayer had arranged a signal with them: “The one I kiss is the man; arrest him and lead him away under guard.” Going at once to Jesus, Judas said, “Rabbi!” and kissed him. The men seized Jesus and arrested him. Then one of those standing near drew his sword and struck the servant of the high priest, cutting off his ear. “Am I leading a rebellion,” said Jesus, “that you have come out with swords and clubs to capture me? Every day I was with you, teaching in the temple courts, and you did not arrest me. But the Scriptures must be fulfilled.” Then everyone deserted him and fled.
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What if history judges you for the worst thing you’ve ever done? That’s not a particularly fun thought. But that’s what history has done with the person we know as Judas Iscariot—the Bible’s worst villain.
But is Judas as bad as we’ve believed him to be? Don’t get me wrong, selling Jesus for 30 pieces of silver doesn’t earn Judas a spot in my top ten list of noble people, but I do wonder if there’s more to Judas than meets the eye.
In the 2019 film, Just Mercy, we learn the story of world-renowned civil rights lawyer Bryan Stevenson, who worked to free a wrongly convicted death row prisoner. Stevenson rightly observes that, “Each of us is more than the worst thing we’ve ever done.” Psychologist Christopher Peterson concludes that, “We are rarely as good as the best thing we’ve done, but neither are we as bad as the worst thing we’ve ever done.”[1]
Let’s hold these parallel truths in our minds as we consider the person of Judas Iscariot.
As a beginning point, let’s review some of what we know about Judas from the biblical account:
Judas was one of the twelve disciples whom Jesus called. This meant that for three years, Judas was with Jesus as he taught, healed, as he performed miracles.
The Gospel of John tells us that Judas was the keeper of the money bag for Jesus and the disciples. He was the treasurer. This was a position of honor. Judas was trusted and respected.
We can infer from the story of the last supper that Judas was sitting next to Jesus at the last supper. We know this because Jesus tells his friends that the one who would betray him was the one to whom he would hand the bread after dipping it in the dish. What we know about dining customs at the time, the person to whom Jesus (the host) would pass the bread would be the person immediately to his left. This was the seat of honor. That’s where Judas sat at the last supper.
Judas left the supper at Jesus’ instruction, going to the Pharisees, telling them where they could find Jesus later, receiving 30 pieces of silver for this deed.
Judas led the Pharisees to Jesus after the supper in the Garden of Gethsemane; he identified Jesus for them with a kiss.
After Jesus was sentenced to execution, Judas bought a field with the 30 pieces of silver and hung himself from a tree in that field.
That’s the story of Judas that we know. But there is a lesser known take on Judas.
Early on in Christianity, many sects formed, and out of those communities many writings were created that offer additional details and even sometimes tell a different story about Jesus and those who followed him. It wasn’t until the Fourth Century—300-400 years after Jesus walked the planet—that church leaders decided which writings would be included in the official canon. Writings that didn’t make the cut are now a part of the New Testament apocrypha. Some of these works emanated from Christian Gnostic communities—the Gospel of Thomas is perhaps the best known of these works. But there’s also a Gospel of Judas, the oldest copy has been carbon-dated to 280 A.D. (plus or minus about 60 years). Whether or not we believe a word from this non-canonical Gnostic text, what we know from this text is that there was a community of early Christ-followers who had a different take on Judas. Here’s their take in a nutshell from the Gospel of Judas:
It’s a story of Jesus’ death from the vantagepoint of Judas.
The Gospel of Judas claims that the other disciples did not understand the true Gospel, only Judas; Jesus taught only Judas the true meaning of things.
It portrays Jesus giving Judas the mission of handing him over to the soldiers; Judas was the divinely appointed instrument for a holy, predetermined purpose. The other disciples were not privy to this plan, so they believed Judas to be a betrayer.
Again, I’m not suggesting you believe this alternate view of Judas—I’m merely pointing out that there was a community of Christ-followers who held this view of Judas—this view was held alongside other views until the Council of Nicaea in 325 (held under the strong arm of the Roman Emperor Constantine) which determined which takes would be official and which would become heresy. As in all history, the winners write the history. The take of Judas as hero instead of villain would be lost for centuries, not translated into English until 2006.
So you see, the story of Judas, it’s . . . complicated.
Even the orthodox take on the story of Judas is complicated. Judas wasn’t the only one who betrayed Jesus that fateful night long ago. All the disciples fled; Peter denied knowing Jesus three times. While Judas betrayed Jesus by commission (by what he did), the other disciples betrayed Jesus by omission (by what they didn’t do).
Jesus forgave Peter and the others for their subtle betrayal. What about Judas? The villain in the story as it has been told to us. Did Jesus forgive Judas in his heart? We don’t know from scripture.
You see, forgiveness, it’s . . . complicated.
Betrayal is so terribly painful. When we love someone, when we trust that person completely, when we dip bread with them one moment, and they stab us in the back the next, how do we get to a place of forgiveness?
Let’s first consider the anatomy of grievance:
Something happens (she ran off with another man, he didn’t show up, she talked about me . . could be anything).
We interpret or judge that event (she ran off with another man/she betrayed me; he didn’t show up/I’m not important to him; she talked about me/a real friend wouldn’t do that).
Our interpretation or judgment creates the pain—the emotion of feeling injured.
We attribute that pain (our pain or another’s pain) to another person or group of people (even to God).
We harbor resentment or anger toward the perceived source of pain.
But going back to the first cause in the chain of events—something happens—the event is always neutral. It’s our mind, our judgment, our interpretation that creates the pain. Forgiveness, therefore, has little to do with another person. Forgiveness is letting go of our own judgments. You see forgiveness, it’s . . . complicated. Or . . . is it?
We looked at the anatomy of grievance. Now let’s look at the anatomy of forgiveness:
When we recognize that all of our resentments, all of our anger, all of our bitterness is the product of our own mind . . .
When we recognize that that which is eternal in each of us, the Holy Spirit, the spark of Divinity cannot be injured or harmed . . .
When we recognize that we are victims of our own thinking . . .
When we recognize that others are victims of their own thinking . . .
. . . forgiveness . . . often . . . just . . . happens. It’s . . . not complicated.
So did Jesus forgive Judas? I tend to believe that yes, Jesus forgave Judas. It didn’t take effort. Jesus was so in touch with That Which was Eternal in him—that uninjurable Presence—I don’t imagine that non-forgiveness was even a consideration.
But just a word about forgiveness—just because we forgive doesn’t mean that we must abandon boundaries.
You can forgive her for “running off with another man,” while simultaneously recognizing that’s her nature, choosing not to resume the relationship in the same way as before.
You can forgive him for “not showing up,” while simultaneously recognizing that’s his nature and not counting on him to show up in the future.
You can forgive her for talking about you, while recognizing that’s what she does and choosing not to share personal details with her in the future.
To forgive means to let go of grievances, of anger, of resentment. It does not necessitate naivete, a blind trust. But we can find healing if we find our way to forgiveness.
With these thoughts in mind, we can try a process that might just lead to forgiveness.
Find yourself in Christ’s presence.
Choose a person or persons you want to forgive; hold that person in Christ’s presence.
Remember the grievance.
Extrapolate the fact from your judgment or interpretation.
Recognize the fact is neutral (the Divine Presence in you cannot be injured) and that any emotional pain results from judgment or interpretation.
Try to let go of the judgment (this is the step that leads to forgiveness).
Ask for God’s blessings on that person.
We would love for forgiveness to be a “one and done” process, meaning that we can work this (or another) process, forgive, and be done with it. But our minds’ attachments to judgments and the resulting grievances are sometimes not too easily changed. It’s like a habit we have to work to break. We may have to let go of judgments multiple times—each time our minds want to pick up old judgments, we have to RE-mind, “No, we let go of that judgment, REmember?”
Thanks be to God that we are forgiven, and that in turn, we can forgive others for lesser crimes than selling us for 30 pieces of silver. Let us close with a simple prayer: Forgive us our trespasses, As we forgive those who trespass against us. Amen.
[1] Christopher Peterson, “Are we as bad as the worst thing we’ve ever done?” Psychology Today, January 20, 2012, https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/the-good-life/201201/are-we-bad-the-worst-thing-we-ve-ever-done (accessed July 8, 2021).