Rev. Eugene N. Nelson, Jr.
The Community Church of Sebastopol
April 6, 2003
Matthew 26: 14-16; 27: 47-50
Following worship last Sunday, I was asked if I ever used video clips in sermons. You may recall – or not! – that I concluded last week’s sermon with a description of a scene from Les Miserables. The person asking the question told me that he had been at a church where that exact same scene had been used in the sermon, only it had been shown on video. I had to tell him there we were not quite ready technically or more importantly, financially, to use Power Point and videos during worship. The day may come, but not yet.
However, if I could, today I would show you a scene from the Star Wars series. Luke Skywalker is in training to become Jedi Knight. He is on a far away and uninhabited planet with Yoda, a Jedi master as his teacher. Yoda sends Skywalker on what is essentially a vision quest into the swampy wilderness. There Luke encounters his enemy, Darth Vadar, the former Jedi who has gone over to the Dark Side of the Force, the very personification of evil as far as Luke is concerned. They engage in combat, and Luke kills him. Darth Vadar, as you fans recall, dresses in black and wears a black helmet and mask. Luke stands over the fallen Vadar, then reaches down and removes the helmet. He then recoils in shock and disbelief. For staring back at him is his own face. He goes into the wilderness to meet evil and who should he meet there but himself. An important thing to remember whenever individuals or nations engage in righteous crusades against evil. Never forget the evil we carry within.
That scene from Star Wars haunted me this past week as I reflected on Judas and his betrayal of Jesus. For centuries the name Judas has conjured up images of deceit and betrayal. And not just any betrayal. Tthis is the man who betrayed none other than the Son of God. To be called a “Judas” is not exactly a compliment. The immensity of the betrayal…even people who never darken the doorway of a church know about Judas. I doubt if even a confirmed atheist would name his/her son Judas. All the connotations are so negative.
And yet as I think about Judas, I find myself going back to that scene from Star Wars, to Luke Skywalker confronting his enemy, confronting evil, only to find himself confronting himself; I go back to that scene and I wonder…could our centuries-old vilification and scapegoating of Judas be related, not only to his betrayal of Jesus, but also to the fact that Judas is just a little too close for comfort? When Jesus announces, “One of you will betray me,” somewhere deep in our hearts, do we wonder if he just might be talking about me? Could there be a little of the Judas chromosome in each of us?
Let’s leave that question hanging in the air for a moment and return to Judas. Considering how well known is his name, we really don’t know much about the man behind the name – only a few sparse details written my men who were appalled and angry at him. It would seem that Judas was trusted by Jesus and the other eleven. He was, after all, designated to carry the purse for the others, kind of an unofficial treasurer for the group. We also know that at the Last Supper, Judas was sitting next to Jesus, a position of honor and trust. So what happened? What changed?
Well, as I read between the lines of the Gospel stories, I wonder if perhaps there wasn’t something else: a growing disappointment and a gnawing frustration. Jesus had influence, but he didn’t use it, at least not in the way Judas wanted him to. Why not use his power to free the people – to break the shackles of Rome? Indeed, more than one author has suggested that the real reason behind Judas’ betrayal was an effort to force Jesus’ hand – to put Jesus in such a position that he would have no choice but to incite the people to revolt. But much to Judas’ dismay, in spite of Jesus’ power and influence, there would be no call to arms, no violence against Rome or anyone else. And so, it was more out of disappointment than disloyalty that Judas betrayed Jesus. As he sings in Jesus Christ Superstar, “Every time I look at you I don’t understand, why you let the things you did get so out of hand.” Clearly, wherever Jesus was going, it was no longer a direction Judas wanted to go. So Judas chose betrayal.
But, having said this about Judas and his relationship with Jesus, we can ask, “What, if anything, does this have to say to me? What does it say about us and our relationship to Jesus? Well a couple of things come to mind.
On December 17, 1903, Orville and Wilbur Wright kept their hand-built airplane in the air for fifty-nine seconds. They sent a telegram to their sister in Dayton, Ohio: “First sustained flight today, fifty-nine seconds. Hope to be home for Christmas.” Their excited sister took the news to the local newspaper editor. The next morning, to her shock and dismay, the headline stated in bold letters: “Popular Local Bicycle Merchants to Be Home for Holidays!” The biggest news story of the time passed Dayton by that day. The editor had missed the message.
I believe that is what happened to Judas. He followed Jesus, believed in him, passionately wanted him to succeed. But somewhere along the way, he missed the message. “Did you really mean that stuff about turning the other cheek, blessing the meek and the merciful, returning good for evil, forgiving others, bearing a cross?” When it comes to Jesus, how easy it is to miss the message, to hear only what we want to hear, to filter out anything that is discomforting or inconvenient. It was Jimmy Breslin who once said, “Northern Ireland has some of the best Catholics and best Protestants in the world – and not a Christian among them!” Go to church each Sunday, call on the name of Jesus, then spend the rest of the week hating and even killing each other. Somebody has missed the message.
It is so tempting to want to use Jesus rather then follow him; to use him to endorse our views on everything from politics to economics to foreign policy to individual life styles. And how much damage is done – how much damage is done – in the name of the Jesus who blesses me and curses you. Absorbed with our own agendas for Jesus, we miss the message, especially when it doesn’t conform to that agenda. That was Judas’ failing. And the more frustrated he became, the more fanatic were his methods to get Jesus to do what he – Judas – wanted Jesus to do. Sort of creating Jesus in Judas’ image. And it can happen to anyone.
A second point, a difficult one to consider, but a point I hinted at earlier, is that the seeds of betrayal just might be planted in each of our hearts. Again, scapegoating Judas just might be a convenient way of avoiding the fact that he is much too close for comfort, more like us than we care to admit.
Let’s be honest, it can be darn hard having Jesus around – his integrity, his faithfulness, his courage, his fierce and unwavering love for God and for us, his standing invitation for us to join him. When he walks into the room, there is no place to hide. We are laid bare by his light. Says Barbara Brown Taylor, “Maybe Judas just fell out of love with Jesus. That happens sometimes. One day you think someone is wonderful and the next day he says or does something that makes you think twice. He reminds you of the difference between the two of you and you start hating him for that – for the difference – hating him enough to begin thinking of some way to hurt him back.” Or, in the words of another colleague, “Inevitably someone would have done the dirty work. God’s son could not enter the world and avoid being destroyed by it.” Judas stands as a painful, timeless reminder that we are a part of it all – the betrayal, denial and deceit. Way too close for comfort.
And we hate it, we hate that reminder! That is why we are so hard on Judas. That’s why we’re so hard on one who chose to fight against his country in Afghanistan, on the corrupt managers of Enron, although we probably have not been hard enough on them. We hate – we fear – that we too are capable of betraying trust, that the Judas chromosome might reside in each of us.
Think about Jesus’ last hours. None of the disciples was a model of faithfulness. Peter even denied knowing him, not once but three times. By the time Jesus was dead, not a disciple was anywhere in sight. When faithfulness and trustworthiness became too dangerous, they were out of there – they all failed. And how about us? I have heard it suggested that we fear Judas more than we fear the cross. For the cross stands as a symbol of heroic self-sacrifice, but Judas is a symbol of the evil within us.
In the words of Craig Barnes, “One of the messages of Holy Week is that sooner or later every disciple will betray Jesus. We will betray him in the workplace when it will cost too much to think like a Christian, and in our homes when the anger is so great that we hurt those who trust us, and in the sacred commitments we make that we simply cannot keep. We will betray Jesus by our indifference to the poor, by our refusal to turn the other cheek to our enemies, and by the deaf ears we turn to heaven’s call to live for higher purposes.” There are so many ways to betray Jesus, some of them as obvious as choosing where you will stand when the showdown between the strong and the weak comes along; others as subtle as keeping your mouth shut when someone asks you if you know him. Malcom Muggeridge once wrote, “Both Mother Teresa and I visited Calcutta many years ago. We both saw the wretched people there and shivered. She stayed and did something about it. I went home and did nothing!” Or in the words of Rabbi Abraham Heschel, “Too often the calls goes forth and our consciences are found absent.” So many ways to betray him.
Where does this leave us? We are told in scripture that when Judas realized the gravity of his actions, he was filled with remorse and said, “I have sinned in betraying innocent blood.” He then repented. Trouble is, that is about all he did; he changed his mind, admitted how wrong he’d been, but did nothing about it. Well, not quite nothing; he killed himself!
By contrast, Peter and the others lived with their betrayal until they encountered the risen Savior, the only one who could offer forgiveness. As Craig Barnes writes, “In the gospel according to Judas there is no forgiveness, there is just sin and the futile efforts to make things right on your own. In the gospel of Jesus, there is always grace, which can create a new beginning to our lives. Judas missed the message; real repentance is not just being sincere in admitting you’re wrong; it is accepting God’s forgiveness, turning your life around, and doing something about it.”
In Judas, we see played out the tragic story of a fall from the heights to the depths. And the hard truth is, it is a fall we will all take sooner or later. But the greater tragedy is that Judas was not at the cross to hear Jesus say, “Father forgive…”