A Prayer for Judas

In Dante’s Divine Comedy, the lowest ring of the lowest circle of Hell is reserved for betrayers.  It’s named after Judas. 

Why are we so offended by Judas' betrayal of Jesus? Why is treason at the top of our civil list of capital offenses?  Is it because treason and betrayal so offend our finely-tuned, “eye-for-eye, tooth-for-tooth” sense of reciprocal love and reciprocal justice?

On the other hand, Jesus does not take offense. At the point of betrayal, when Judas greets Jesus in the garden, Jesus calls him "friend" – “Friend, do what you have come to do.” (Mt 26:50)  Jesus came to announce, to live, and to die for the good news that God's love is not reciprocal; it is unconditional.  While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.  (Rom 5:8)

Today, on Spy Wednesday, join me as I pray for Judas, in fervent hope that that he ultimately realized the forgiveness that Christ offered even to those who nailed him to the cross.  It is same forgiveness he offers to each of us even as we continue to betray his unconditional love whenever we settle for mere human, reciprocal love and justice.

Joyful Love

In the 19^th century, a very popular practice in many American saloons was to offer lunch for free to anyone who came into the saloon.  The hope was that anyone who came in for the free lunch would also buy ample beer or other libations.  To encourage this result, the lunches served were generally high in salt.  As a result, most patrons left the bars with full bellies and much lighter pockets – hence, the idea that “there ain’t no such thing as a free lunch.”

In the last century, this became a touchstone for much of our economics.  Milton Friedman wrote a book with this as its title.  We generally accept this as something to remember in everything we do.  Sure, we like to believe we occasionally get something free, but deep down, we know we’ve paid for it somehow or some way.

We even extend this truth to our relationships with other people.  Since we don’t expect to get anything for free, we don’t give anything away for free either.  We give gifts to other people expecting a return of some sort – a gracious thank you, at minimum, or a reciprocal gift in the future.  We love people whom we expect will love us back in return.  When we don’t see the reciprocity we expect, we stop giving the gift.

We cross people off our Christmas card list because they stop sending cards to us.  We cut people who don’t love us out of our lives and our love.  We hate those who hate us.  All of this makes sense in a finite world – a closed system as scientists would call it.  There is only so much resource – food, energy, love – and we cannot afford to spend it without a commensurate return.

Trapped by this seemingly unchangeable truth, our lives become narrowed as we seek to guard ourselves from being cheated of our limited resources.  Our lunches aren’t free and neither are our lives.  Whatever we “give,” we give only grudgingly, with strings firmly attached, as we are always wary that we should be getting something in return.

Jesus reveals a different world and a different truth, one which sets us free.  God’s love is truly free!  It is not conditioned by anything we say or do.  It does not require a return at all.  God so loved the world that he gave us his only Son.  Even though we continually refuse to return God’s love – we call that sinning – God continues to love us with the same infinite, eternal love.  While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. 

And this love liberates and transforms us.  As this love comes from one who is beyond time and beyond space – who created time and created space – it breaks the narrow confines of our finite existence and opens us up to the infinite.  When we give this love away, we continue to be loved by God with the same infinite, eternal love.  Since there is no loss in our giving, there is no need for return.  We give freely and joyfully.

For this reason, Pope Francis titled his first encyclical “The Joy of the Gospel.”  This good news – “gospel” – of Jesus fills us with joy as it frees us from our self-imposed bonds of reciprocity.  Pope Francis strives to project joy in all that he does – and urges us, by his actions as much as by his words – to share his joy by realizing the presence of God's love in our lives.  

Rejoice and be glad, the kingdom of God is at hand.

Lazarus

Catholic evangelist Matthew Kelly always urges us to become the best version of ourselves.  That’s a salutary goal and very Ignatian in spirit.  However, if can often be difficult to tell what the best version of yourself is.  If you get it wrong, the result can be either comic or tragic, neither of which brings you closer to God.

For example, when I was young, I would often dream that my best version was Joe Cool – the hipping-happening, stylish, popular, man-about-town.  Of course for the uber-nerd that I was and always will be, this bordered on sheer lunacy and high comedy ensured following any of my efforts to realize this dream.

On the other hand, God granted me intelligence, an ability to work hard, and a sense of obedience and respect for the law.  I began to believe that my “best version” was a righteous “great provider.”  So what if I wasn’t necessarily stylish or popular.  I was respected as a good person, solid citizen, making a good living for my family, and knowing the answers to all problems.

This sounded pretty good – and it seemed I was doing very well at this.  I made a lot of money and earned many honors and awards for my hard work.  I was well respected by all were important to me.  I even became a deacon – what could be better than that?

What I didn’t realize was the tragic nature of my vision.  For in this “best version” of myself, I was trapped, as dead and buried to this world as Lazarus was to Martha and Mary and his friends.

I made a lot of money, but it never seemed to be quite enough.  The bills got bigger and the debt got deeper.  Anxiety and worry were always present.  Maybe if I just worked a bit harder or a little longer…

I was certainly righteous, the “good boy” who rarely strayed.  But I was never as good as I hoped I’d be.  To make myself feel better, I would be dishonest with myself and others to hide my imperfections.  When that wasn’t enough, I’d simply take note of those who were much worse than I was in obeying the law, judging these people as unworthy of my love and respect, and thereby validating my own obviously better effort.

I had lots of answers – and many of them were correct, a few of them even wise.  Yet I began to dwell in my own mind, not even listening to those around me.  They would talk, but I never listened, for I was simply thinking about my response, my solution to their “problems,” even when their solution was simply for me to listen.

I was truly dead.  Yet Jesus is for me, as he was for Lazarus, as he is for you, the answer.  He calls me – as he called Lazarus and as he calls you – to come out of the tomb.

He calls me to leave behind my farcical and tragic versions of self and to lovingly accept who I truly am – his loved child created in his image and likeness.  He loves me not for my servile obedience but despite my failures and weaknesses, for while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.  He loves me not for the money I’ve earned to sustain my life, for he is the resurrection and the life, source of eternal joy and peace.  And he calls me, forming me from my mother’s womb, with his Spirit dwelling in me, to live as he lived, to love as he loved, to serve as he served, such that my joy may be complete, now and in the kingdom of heaven, forever and ever, Amen.