Wednesday of Holy Week

Lectionary: 259

“What are you willing to give me
if I hand him over to you?”
They paid him thirty pieces of silver,
and from that time on he looked for an opportunity to hand him over.

The Gospel of Saint Matthew begins with a story of Herod's homage and concludes with Judas Iscariot's sellout. There are many moments of delight between, and the Gospel will end with the overwhelming good news of the Savior's Resurrection, but there can be no gospel which does not include stories of perfidy and cynicism. 

The evangelists offer only one reason for Judas's action: he wanted the money. And yet we know enough about the loss of faith; it doesn't begin with greed. That vice is certainly common. Enough is never enough for misers. But greed can lie dormant in our souls and never appear when the Spirit of God governs our thoughts. If there are openly greedy people among us, it's because the culture encourages greed. Ordinarily, we might hesitate to let money go; but, persuaded that it's going for a good cause and will do more good for others, we share and share alike. 

But there are other voices within our hearts: cynicism, reservations, and doubts about the Lord who is leading us. They might appear as we face the reality of death. We have heard the promise of everlasting bliss with the Lord but.... really? And what if it's simply not true? That there is only this life, and we should eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die?

That incantation troubled the divine authors; it appears in Scripture several times, including, Isaiah 22:13; Luke 12:19; and 1 Corinthians 15:32. It can become a raucous cheer when we tire of the discipline, focus, and dedication the Gospel wants; when it appears that our coreligionists have different motives and different goals. Perhaps we're not all in this together; perhaps we're not united by our faith; but our solidarity is only habit, convenience, cowardice, and a singular lack of imagination. 

At some point, perhaps, Judas said, "I know where this is going, and I'm not going there." He was drifting; he was not seeing the glory of God in Jesus; but he did see the foolishness of his companions. He saw their bickering about which of them is the best; he saw them jockeying for the seats on the Lord's right and left. He knew the authorities were anxious about Jesus. Everything he said and did only pointed toward trouble, and the authorities would move in before that happened. Nothing in Jesus' healing ministry, works, or words pointed to the kind of change Judas could imagine. Nor did he reveal any more to his disciples than he said in public. Would he ever make his move and take control of Jerusalem? Why was he dawdling? 

The Lord saw it happening in his disciple. As Saint John said, he "did not need anyone to testify about human nature. He himself understood it well." If the others remained under Jesus's thrall, Judas was drifting. Comments, muttering, whispered asides, questions, jokes: his growing discontent was leaking from him like steam from a pressure cooker. 

And he was handling the money, How did that happen, that the one who seemed most distracted, least enthusiastic, least inspired was handling the money? 

When the Gospels were written, in retrospect, it all made sense. It was greed. But before the greed there was the cynicism that harbored and nurtured doubt, that kept its options open. 

The story of Judas must always be told; no gospel can be written without including stories of hypocrisy and cynicism. 

Lent is ending; Holy Week is rapidly drawing us through the Lord's Supper into the darkness of Good Friday. Our attention must be focused, and our hearts consecrated for even the elect will be sorely tested by what is about to happen.