John 13:21-30, 18:1-9
In the small English village of Moreton, in Dorset, the local Anglican congregation remained deeply divided for thirty years. The renowned artist, Sir Laurence Whistler, was commissioned to create a series of stained-glass windows on the theme of the twelve apostles. Everyone assumed that the twelfth window would feature the little-known Matthias, chosen to replace Judas. But when the windows were completed, the congregation was shocked to discover that the twelfth window featured Judas Iscariot hanging from a tree, the silver coins falling from his purse to the ground, and a beam of light shining down on him from heaven. Sir Laurence had titled it, ‘The Forgiveness Window.’ The parishioners and their priest could not come to terms with the idea that Judas could be the object of any hope of grace. The window sat in storage for thirty years until a new generation of parishioners, led by a new priest, finally agreed to have the window installed – albeit in an obscure alcove of the church facing the cemetery.[1] The story of Whistler’s ‘Forgiveness Window’ typifies much of the Christian reaction to Judas Iscariot. The grace of God might be open to all – but that ‘all’ certainly could never include Judas.
Judas Iscariot is one of the most ambiguous and perplexing figures in the Bible. Almost nothing we learn about Judas from the gospel accounts quite adds up. Judas, for obvious reasons, has been expunged from the gospels apart from the role he played in the betrayal of Jesus. No account of his calling, no record of any of his words or deeds, outside of that final week, are recorded.[2]
While there is no account of how Judas became one of the twelve, it is reasonable to assume that, like the others, he was chosen by Jesus. Also, Judas was the only member of the inner circle who appears not to have been from Galilee. This would have made him something of an outsider from the beginning. Yet he served as treasurer, which indicates he had some financial ability and a significant degree of respect and trust among the others.
The Gospel that is harshest in its judgment of Judas is John’s Gospel. The naming of Judas as ‘a devil’ (John 6:70) and as a ‘son of perdition’ (John 17:2) convey very strong and emotive language unique to John. Yet is ironically John’s Gospel that gives us more information about Judas than any of the other Gospels. The best explanation of both of these facts is that John had been close to Judas. It makes sense that Judas would have had at least one close friendship within the inner circle of the twelve, and that that person would have not only had more information about Judas, but would have been more hurt and angry at his betrayal.
The account of Judas we have just heard from John’s Gospel takes place in the context of the Last Supper. The first thing that jumps out at us from today’s text is that Judas left to betray Jesus after participating in the Last Supper. Judas was there for the institution of the Lord’s Supper. Jesus gave him the cup and bread. The body and blood of Christ, and his forgiveness, was offered to Judas by Jesus, who knew exactly what Judas was about to do.
Also, if Judas was a simple thief and now a traitor, why does he proceed with his plan when it is clear that he has been caught out by Jesus? If Judas’ motivation is monetary gain, or simple betrayal, his actions make little sense. Perhaps Judas felt something needed to happen to force a showdown in which Jesus would have to act. When Jesus says to him to go and do quickly what he must do, Judas may have taken this as an affirmation that this was indeed the role Jesus wanted him to play. The paltry sum offered by the high priests would have been of little consequence.
Judas’ error, quite possibly, was not so much his love of money, as his failure to understand the kind of Messiah Jesus was. One biblical scholar has written that Judas’ crime was one of ‘earthly presumption, seeking not to thwart the purposes of Christ, or to betray them, but to promote them by means utterly at war with their central spirit. . . . It was an attempt to forward the counsels of God by weapons borrowed from the armoury of darkness.’[3]
If this was the case, then it was the mother of all miscalculations. Judas’ subsequent actions support this interpretation. A thief motivated by greed would not have so quickly tried to return the money, and then taken his own life. A man, however, who thought he was setting up his friend and teacher to call down power from heaven to overthrow the current rulers would have been devastated when Jesus was arrested, then prevented his disciples from defending him, and finally was sentenced to death. Such a man would have desperately tried to take back his actions by returning the thirty coins. Such a man would have been in utter despair at this turn of events. Judas hangs himself when he learns of Jesus’ death sentence. We see the deep despair of a man who realised just what he has done.
The comment that Satan entered into Judas (John 13:27) is often used to dismiss any attempt to find a motive for his actions. But this comment should not be mistaken for explanation of what Judas’ does. The expression ‘Satan entered into him’ is akin to our modern ‘the Devil made me do it.’ It is only the second place in the Bible that we find such an expression. The first is in the account of David’s numbering of the people (1 Chronicles 21:1). In this context, the statement is an expression used to explain an otherwise inexplicable act by King David, who was a seemingly good person. The fact that this is said also of Judas is an indication that the other disciples did not see his betrayal coming. They were perplexed as to his motives, and were struggling for an explanation after the event. And the only person who could tell them, Judas himself, was no longer living.
But what does all this mean?
In his 1948 novel Christ Recrucified, Greek author Nikos Kanzantzakis penned the thought-provoking words, in the context of a local priest trying to convince one of his parishioners to play the role of Judas in the coming year’s passion play: ‘Without Judas, no crucifixion, and without crucifixion, no resurrection. … For the world to be saved, Judas is indispensable.’[4]
For the world to be saved, Jesus needed to suffer the abandonment and God-forsakenness of the cross. But for the suffering of Jesus to embrace and redeem all human suffering, his cross had to be more than physical pain. Jesus needed also to experience the rejection of the people whom he came to save. He needed to experience the abandonment of loyal friends, such as Peter. And he needed to experience the pain of betrayal. But therein lies the dilemma. Betrayal can only occur at the hands of a trusted friend. Being handed over by strangers, disappointed crowds, angry Pharisees, or even a mole in the ranks who had long schemed for his own enrichment, is not true betrayal. For Jesus to experience the full pain and suffering of the cross, it had to be a friend – a loyal disciple who until that moment had loved him and trusted him. And that man, for good or ill, whatever his own motivation may have been, was Judas Iscariot.
And Jesus, as God in human flesh, surely knew what Judas’ role would be. Certainly Jesus knew it at the Last Supper. And Jesus loves him and lives with him for three years, giving Judas every opportunity to follow the right path, while knowing the whole time that he would not. It must have been heart-breaking for Jesus from the moment he called Judas to follow him, right up to that final kiss in Gethsemane.
There is a telling observation in Friedrich Ohly’s The Dammed and the Elect. He says: ‘Judas dies without ever being aware of his place in the divine plan of salvation, just before the saving death of the Redeemer. He is perhaps the last man to die under the Old Law, before the dawning of the Age of Grace.’[5] Ray Anderson has put it even more sharply.
An astounding irony in the biblical story of Judas is the tragic coincidence of his death and the death of Jesus. At the very moment that Judas is enacting the human drama of sin and death, Jesus is enacting the divine drama of redemption and atonement. As Judas carries the terrible logic of sin to its ultimate conclusion, as though there were no grace and no forgiveness, Jesus contradicts it by taking sin upon himself and dying the death that will perfect the logic of grace and forgiveness. The first man dies without receiving what the second man is dying to give him.[6]
It is more than an intriguing coincidence that Judas and Christ die within moments of one another, and that Judas becomes the symbol of those who die before the death of Christ changes everything. From the moment of the sacrificial death of Jesus a line is drawn through human history. God himself in human flesh stood in our place and suffered with us and for us. The age of grace had begun. But Judas did not live to see it. He was, quite possibly, the last person to die before the death of Jesus changed everything.
That Friday afternoon in the vicinity of Jerusalem two men who had been friends hung on trees, dying ‘accursed’ deaths.
One man put himself on the tree. The other was put there by the rest of humanity.
One man’s death took place in a vacuum of hope, the other man’s death became the foundation of hope.
One man’s death brought an end to life, the death of the other brought life to all people.
Two men, on two different trees, died that Friday on the outskirts of Jerusalem. Their deaths were linked, indeed inextricably connected. Jesus died when his friend betrayed him. Judas died when he learned that Jesus would go the cross and he could not bear to live with the consequences of his own action.
And the sky darkened over both of them as the Father in heaven wept.Amen
Pastor Mark Worthing.
[1] Peter Stanford, ‘Was Judas – Christianity’s great traitor – wrongly condemned?’ in The Independent (Sunday 5 April 2015).
[2] One possible exception is the famous ‘Judas (not Iscariot)’ text in John 14:22. John never uses the name Judas for Thaddeus, so this occurrence is odd. Some have speculated that it is reference to a comment by Judas Iscariot, but that early copyists added the qualifier. The fact that there are variations of the form of the qualification in early texts may point to ‘not Iscariot’ being an addition. Given that John has more to say about Judas than any of the other gospels, if a reference to something Judas said or did that was not related to his betrayal were to be preserved, it is in John’s gospel that we might expect to find it.
[3] Thomas de Quincey, Judas Iscariot, [1852] at http://fullreads.com/essay/judas-iscariot, p. 5. (accessed 12.07.2018)
[4] Nikos Kazantzakis, Christ Recrucified, trans. J. Griffin (London: Faber and Faber, 1962), 24,25.
[5] Friederich Ohly, The Dammed and the Elect. Guilt in Western Culture, trans Linda Archibald. (Cambridge University Press, 1992), p. 29.
[6] Ray Anderson, The Gospel According to Judas (Colorado Springs: Helmers & Howard, 1991), p. 92.
late summer and early autumn have well and truly set in. It’s back to the daily grind of work. And to top it off, Lent is here. That church season of the year where it’s all a bit gloomy. Lots of focus on Jesus’ passion. The readings speak more of trial and suffering than joy and fulfilment. And if we are not careful, we either sit around miserable because either we have convinced ourselves we should give up something we really like… or because we feel just a bit guilty that we are not as good as all those other Christians who have. 
Under the heading of this psalm there is sub-heading. “For the director of music. A psalm of David. When the prophet Nathan came to him after David had committed adultery with Bathsheba”. Ouch! That seems a bit blunt putting that kind of a heading on a song that was used in the temple for worship. It says that David wrote the psalm and now every worshipper was reminded of his sin whenever they opened their hymnal scrolls to Psalm 51. Can you imagine the worship leader saying to his congregation, “Let’s now sing the hymn that was inspired by the king’s confession to murder and adultery”? In certain periods of history saying something like that would certainly have meant “off with his head”.
St Peters Lutheran Church Port Macquarie 