Imagine if your best, most-loving, most-gracious relative brought together members of his family for a meal. You know that everyone gathered should love this relative as much as you do. As you all are eating, he stands up and – looking at each and every one of you, individually – he says, “One of you will betray me.” Again, everyone in the family knows this is the best relative you all have. What would your response be? I know what I would say. My first thought would be, “Why would anyone do that?!”
As we near Good Friday, the coming Passion of the Lord is weighing heavily on my mind. And, in reflecting on today’s readings – especially today’s Gospel selection from Matthew, which lays the foundation of Judas’ betrayal of Christ – I find myself thinking about that fledgling betrayal scene in a new way.
Jesus does basically what I detailed in my anecdote above, telling his gathered apostles that one of them would betray him. And there is no record of any of them saying what would be my first thought in the similar anecdote above: “Why?! Why would any of us – whom you have loved and taught and performed miracles near and given great wisdom – betray you?!”
Instead, their response is, “Surely it is not I, Lord?”
Why is that? It seems so odd. “Someone will betray this person whom you all love, and whom you know in your heart of hearts is good and right.” “Wow; you’re not talking about me, are you?”
When do we normally switch to a mildly defensive stance like that? Speaking from my experience, it tends to be when there’s at least some possibility that I could be at fault or responsible. “Honey, you seem upset. Did I do something to annoy you?” Or, “Teacher, you just said that one of us performed way below your expectations; did you mean me?” Or, “Boss, you said that some of the office’s work hasn’t been suitable lately. Do we need to talk?”
From that point of view, then, if the apostles knew that Christ’s wisdom and insight were infallible (and they should have), to elicit that response – “Surely it is not I, Lord?” – says, to me, that each apostle must have had at least an inkling in their heart that it was possible that they could be the one whom Jesus was talking about. And they didn’t ask “Why would anyone do that?!” because they knew exactly why one of they would.
Indeed, they did. They knew exactly why it would be feasible to turn away from Jesus. The pressures must have been enormous and omnipresent. Every facet of society they knew and previously trusted – their religious leaders, their civil authorities, many of their friends and family – would have been assaulting them from all sides. “Why are you listening to this Jesus guy?! Give it up and resume your normal life . . . the life you knew and trusted for decades before. The safe life. The comfortable path. Just turn back from this carpenter’s son, and come back home.”
In fact, the person most steadfast in his assertions that he would never, ever turn his back on Jesus was Peter (though all the disciples “spoke likewise” in their denials). As we all know, Peter did indeed deny Christ three times shortly thereafter, and almost all of the apostles were nowhere to be found while Christ died on the cross.
Look at today’s first reading, from Isaiah, with fresh eyes. Therein he talks about how stalwart he is in serving the Lord. “. . . I have not rebelled, have not turned back. . . . The Lord GOD is my help, therefore I am not disgraced; I have set my face like flint, knowing that I shall not be put to shame. . . . See, the Lord GOD is my help; who will prove me wrong?” Now, when do we speak most forcefully and passionately about anything? It is not when that activity is easy, because that makes no sense. “Who’s the best at wearing a hat? I am!” or “Behold, how magnificently I eat soup! There is no one who can move soup from a bowl to their mouth with a spoon better than me!” No, such proclamations are usually made when the activity undertaken is difficult, and when the road ahead is challenging.
And, indeed, the reading from Isaiah makes that abundantly clear: “I gave my back to those who beat me, my cheeks to those who plucked my beard; My face I did not shield from buffets and spitting.” Clearly, following God with all your heart, body, and mind can lead to a hard life!
Following Christ is infinitely rewarding, but the pressures of the real world are great. There are those who struggle, just as Peter struggled on Good Friday. Perhaps you yourself have had moments where you were less than sure. That’s okay; the apostles perhaps felt the same way at the Last Supper. Maybe you feel solid in your faith journey, but you know someone who feels less than perfect in their relationship of Christ. If so, these final hours of the Lenten season are a perfect time to reach out to them, reassure them that Christ still loves them, and invite them to Mass with you.
The coming Easter holiday is not just for the faithful, not just for the steadfast, not just for the unshakable, but for all of humanity. “Surely it is not I, Lord?” could be the words of someone who harbors some doubt in their minds. Let the coming Holy Week reaffirm the place in salvation Christ has for all who would believe, even imperfectly, and let Easter Sunday serve as the pinnacle for how Christ can turn the most flawed of human beliefs and actions into the perfect culmination of God’s plan.
Today’s Readings for Mass: Is 50:4-9A; Ps 69:8-10, 21-22, 31 and 33-34; Mt 26:14-25
