Betrayal

Betrayal always cuts us to the quick.  We may be initially puzzled as it is always surprises us, but our confusion quickly turns to grief, indignation, bitterness and anger.

Judas puts all these emotions in play with his decision to betray Jesus.  His very name becomes an epithet for all betrayers.   We assume that this is the end for Judas.  He betrays love for hate; betrays life for death; betrays salvation for damnation.  We know that he no longer deserves Jesus.  We turn our faces away from Judas as surely as he turns his away from Jesus.  Good riddance to him.

Judas’ betrayal resonates so deeply in us because nobody deserves Jesus; not one of us can possibly measure up to the faithfulness of Jesus.  And even when we are not conscious of this truth, we know it in our soul of souls.  I must hold Judas close to me because he shows me how easily I let my own immediate pleasures, my own immediate needs, keep me from loving Jesus and keep me from loving others as Jesus loves me.

And without recognizing my own weakness, without recognizing the bedeviling betrayal of Judas in me, I lose sight of Jesus’ unfailing faithfulness.  After all, if I do not believe that I am as weak and disloyal as Judas; if I, instead, I see myself as always faithful, always good, then why do I need Jesus?  Just give me my thirty pieces of silver and I’ll be on my way.

The good news is that, despite our weakness, despite our sins and betrayals, Jesus is always faithful to us – and that unfailing faithfulness transforms our weakness into our strength, allowing us to realize the salvation that only Jesus can bring.   

As doff the penitential purple of Lent to don the celebratory white of Easter, we first embrace Judas, embrace our weakness, and seek to reconcile ourselves with Jesus, the one who is mercy and love; the one who is strength and salvation.