What to do with Judas? (Spy Wednesday)

In the name of Jesus. Amen.

For a good part of the church’s history, this Wednesday has been celebrated as “Spy Wednesday,” a commemoration of sorts, of Judas’ negotiated betrayal of Jesus with the chief priests.

It was a few years ago, I think, when we did dramatic “personalities of the Passion” for our Lenten Wednesday series. Drawing on some of the best minds and insightful scholars, I crafted a “Judas” for my monologue who was a zealous zealot, almost in the manner of St. Paul, whose chief motivation for handing Jesus over was because Jesus wasn’t revolutionary enough, or not the kind of Messiah or Revolutionary that he expected. In other words, I painted a very sympathetic Judas, a Judas that was palatable, a Judas we can understand, even “connect” with. But is this the real Judas, the Judas of the Scriptures? I think not. And I repent.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I appreciate the work of biblical scholars and am indebted to many for insights into the biblical text that I would never have seen on my own. But sometimes I think I extend my trust too far. And I also appreciate the art of drama, of acting, both as an art form and as a creative way of engaging the Bible and its people—even the darker ones. But sometimes when over-interpretation meets dramatic flair, sometimes important things—namely the Scriptural witness itself—gets left behind.

Did you hear those few verses from St. Matthew’s Gospel this morning? Then one of the twelve, who was called Judas Iscariot, went to the chief priests and said, "What will you give me if I betray him to you?" They paid him thirty pieces of silver. And from that moment he began to look for an opportunity to betray him (Matthew 26:14-16). That’s it. Done deal. Thirty pieces of silver.

The Gospel of John echoes this simple motivation of greed by attributing it to Judas as one of his motivations for his protest of Mary of Bethany’s act of devotion when she anoints Jesus with a generous amount of expensive perfume: He [Judas] said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief; he kept the common purse and used to steal what was put into it (John 12:6). Not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief.

A greedy thief. Thirty pieces of silver. Seems so base, so crude, so overly-simplistic. Surely Judas didn’t betray the Lord Christ for simply thirty pieces of silver. Surely he did not hand him over for something as crude as greed. Or did he?

A zealous Judas we can identify with and is a bit more palatable to our modern sensibilities. A disappointed Judas we can nod along with. But a simply greedy Judas? That’s too simplistic. Too much raw evil. Too much exchanging the beauty of truth for the ugly face of selfishness. But there it is: Judas betrayed Jesus for thirty pieces of silver.

And it is on this day, Spy Wednesday, that we realize we could do the same. And it’s not just Judas. For which of the other eleven did not run away? Which of the “big three” didn’t fall asleep in the Garden? Even Peter, Prince of the Apostles, denies the Lord three times. None of us is any better.

And so it is perhaps fitting what we do on this Spy Wednesday: look Judas square in the face and see our own reflection. Look Judas in the face and realize the gravity of our own sin. Look Judas in the face and realize how often we betray our Lord for chump change, for base desires, for selfish reasons.

Yes, perhaps all this Judas stuff is very fitting for Wednesday of Holy Week: for it bring us to our knees, brings us very low, so that the only place to look is up—to a Cross and the One crucified upon it, to a Table laden with bread and wine—and down, to the Son of Man who is the Son of God, kneeling to wash our feet.

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Thorns

I am always amazed at the way in which nature "speaks" a word about the Word, Jesus Christ. The first flowers of spring--which have hidden themselves once again--speak "Resurrection" even before Easter.

Lest we get too far ahead of ourselves, however, this tree of thorns reminds us also of the cost, of the depths to which Christ descended for us.

I recently heard a podcast in which a saint was quoted as meditating on the goal of creation: the goal of all wood is the Cross, the goal of all rock is the empty tomb, etc. It is almost as if creation is built to preach about the One through whom all things were made.

Ooh Ah!

You might overhear our youngest daughter calling out “Ooh Ah!” from time to time. She is not anticipating fireworks; these are her words for “Alleluia,” and she is specifically asking for a song, All Creatures Worship God Most High (#835 in the hymnal), a hymn I began singing to her at home a month or so ago. She gets even more intense the longer I wait to begin singing: “Ooh Ah! OOH Ah! OOH AH!” And so of course I give in, joyfully, and sing the song she knows best as “Alleluia!”

As I write this, it is still Lent and, in the practice of the Western Church, we keep the “Alleluias” often hidden in worship until the great celebration of the Resurrection on Easter Sunday. This is a practice that has never sat quite right with me, for the bodily Resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ from the dead is the central and most important reality of our faith. Our whole faith hinges on this event, this reality.

St. Paul’s writes about this in 1 Corinthians 15:12-28. He does a remarkable job of linking our resurrection with Jesus’ resurrection. He doesn’t mince words: If Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile and you are still in your sins… those who have died in Christ have perished…. If for this life only we have hoped in Christ we are of all people most to be pitied. Everything, everything hangs on the Resurrection of Christ. If Christ has not been raised, then the shape of our entire life does not make sense. If Christ has not been raised, then we have wasted a good deal of our lives in worship and praise. If Christ has not been raised, we are lost in our sins and death is the final answer.

But, St.Paul says, in fact Christ has been raised from the dead, the first fruits of those who have died. And because Christ is risen from the dead, we are given forgiveness of sins, life and salvation, not just in the world to come, but also right here, right now. Because Christ is risen from the dead, all of creation has been transformed. God’s final word is not one of death but of new life!

This, my brothers and sisters in Christ, is what we celebrate on Easter—and every Sunday, even in Lent. For every Sunday, the first day of the week, the first day of creation, the glorious eighth day of the new creation, is the Lord’s Day, a Day of Resurrection, a celebration of the Lord’s triumphal victory over sin, death and the devil. It is not so much that every Sunday is a little Easter but that every Easter is a HUGE Sunday! (Thanks to Laurence Hull Stookey for this insight in his book Calendar.)

So as Lent leads us into Holy Week and Holy Week into the glorious Season of Easter, perhaps the littlest ones among us understand it best of all. Ooh Ah! Indeed, little Lucy, “Ooh Ah!” “Ooh Ah!” indeed!

DST TLC

Last March I wrote about how Daylight Saving Time messes with our sleep / waking schedule so much that it's not unusual or surprising that we find ourselves grumpier than normal for a few days (or weeks).

One approach, of course, is to simply give in to this anger: at a spouse, child, or co-worker. Another approach is to use it as an opportunity to confess our sins and shortcomings and, by the power of the Holy Spirit, to begin to cultivate the virtues in our life.

Throughout the long history of the church, seven grievous (or "deadly") sins were identified as being particularly serious or pernicious: pride, greed, lust, anger, gluttony, envy and sloth. How many of these rear their ugly heads the week following the Daylight Saving Time switch?

However, the Church in its wisdom, has "matched" these seven grievous sins with the seven capital virtues: humility, liberality (generosity), chastity, mildness, temperance, happiness and diligence (see also the "fruits of the Spirit" in Galatians 5:22-23).

Our battle with sin is a daily one. Let us all, by God's grace, fight the dark side of DST with some Spirit-filled TLC.

Bright Sadness

Alexander Schmemann, an Eastern Orthodox Christian theologian, has described Lent as a "bright sadness." I think I understand what he means.

I am still getting settled into my new study here at the church following our renovations. One item on my "to do" list is cleaning the windows.

This morning the sun has been exceptionally bright, which has a twofold effect on me. On the one hand, it cheers me, especially since I've had quite a bit of cabin fever as of late and cannot wait for spring to come in full force. The sun brightens my study and my life. On the other hand, it shows even more clearly how dirty my windows are and how much I need to clean to them, to tend to them.

To me, that is Lent in a nutshell. The Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, brightens our lives--indeed, He brightens the entire world--with his glorious Resurrection. Yet it is this same light that shines from his face that also exposes our dirty windows, our sin, our brokenness, our mess.