Are You with the Band?

“There are two paths you can go down but in the long run there’s still time to change the road you’re on.” Plant/Page

Tell that to Judas.

Sometimes it’s too late; the damage is done; we can reverse the consequences of what we have set in motion through our actions.

As I journey through Lent I have been reflecting on two good friends-- band mates-- Judas and Jesus.

Judas partied with Jesus.
He shared in the festivities and delighted in the miracles. He crashed the wedding with Jesus and the other guys. Judas didn’t just have a backstage pass, he was with the band. Think: John, Paul, George and Ringo. Jesus could have chosen anyone, and he chose Judas. Jesus’ passion was God and God’s kingdom, and at some point it must have been Judas’ as well. Judas dreamt the dream with Jesus.

Judas knew Jesus’ heart; his love for God and others; and his passion for the Kingdom of God here on earth and Judas must have shared in the passion as well. He saw the heart and soul of the poet; he witnessed first hand the inspiration, faith, hope, pain, prayer and faith that shaped the lyrics. He was there the night Jesus penned, “The meek shall inherit the earth” long before the crowd heard the lyrics.

Judas saw Jesus in a different light than those who only experienced the teaching, preaching, healing and miracles. He saw Jesus backstage after the lights went down and the crowds went home. Judas knew the place inside Jesus’ heart that allowed Jesus to do what he did. Jesus was Judas’ friend. They could be sincere with each other; let their guard down; hope and dream of the nearing Kingdom of God. He was there for the good times and the bad. He sat with Jesus when Jesus was exhausted, confused, bummed-out and pissed-ff by the closed minds, hard-hearts, and injustice they encountered each day. He saw Jesus smash the 19 inch Samsung color TV in the Hotel 6 frustrated by the violence, injustice and moral corruption after watching the late news.

Judas loved Jesus like a brother and friend.
Jesus could have chosen anyone, and he chose Judas.
Jesus could have chosen anyone, and he chose you.
Jesus could have chosen anyone, and he chose me.
And he trusts us with his life.

Something went wrong.
I don’t know why Judas betrayed his friend; probably for the same reasons I do.

At some point Judas stopped believing or began to question if “it was worth it.” Following Jesus was going to cost him something. Perhaps Judas was expecting sold-out stadiums and Grammy Awards, but discovered small synagogue halls, cheap hotels and road exhaustion. Maybe Judas was just too familiar with Jesus, and familiarity breeds contempt. Like you and me, perhaps, he just was human who was self-centered and decided that Jesus’ trust wasn’t worth it.
When the times are tough; when you are lonely, frustrated, stressed out and your familiarity with God nearly breeds contempt; where you lose respect and reverence for the sacredness of your faith—what’s the price of betrayal?

Did Judas know his betrayal would cost Jesus his life?
Was Judas aware that the results would be devastating?

Playwright Steven Deitz said, “One should rather die than be betrayed. There is no deceit in death. It delivers precisely what it has promised. Betrayal, though ... betrayal is the willful slaughter of hope.” Judas took advantage of his friend’s trust and for a moment thought that he had slaughter the hope of humanity. Maybe that is why is hanged himself, perhaps it was his own loss of hope that allowed him to hand Jesus over.

Betrayal is cheap, but the cost is always high. Nobody gets off cheap: not you, not me; everyone loses. Betrayal brings darkness. Jesus was left in the dark to face Pilate alone; the accusations, mockery, torture, forsakenness and eventually death. Jesus didn’t just die for Judas’ sin; Jesus was killed for Judas’ sin.

Are you with the band?

I don’t know about you, but I have often taken God’s mercy, grace, and compassion for granted. I have been Judas. I am Judas more often than I like. I may not intentionally betray a loved one’s trust or selfishly take advantage of another’s faith; or slaughter their hope, but I’ve sat at the table looking my Savior in the eyes, sharing the broken bread and poured-out wine knowing that my name is Judas.

Maybe that’s why I cry at every Eucharist.
When I hug the broken bread in my hands; when my lips kiss the chalice
Jesus says, “I know who you are and I trust you with my life.”
I realize that despite my best efforts, I am Judas.
I am chosen,
and I am forgiven.

Perhaps the lesson at Calvary though isn’t about dying or death… certainly not resurrection. It’s about faith and forgiveness; God’s faith in humanity; God’s forgiveness for the Judas in all of us. For Jesus, there can be no friendship without faith and forgiveness, and certainly no love; no death without faith and forgiveness; no resurrection without faith and forgiveness. Betrayal comes cheap; faith and forgiveness cost everything.

So no matter where I stand as Judas, I can’t turn away or hide my head and die in shame. I have to stare into the eyes of the broken, bleeding one; stare at my friend and lover of my soul; stare at the cost of my betrayal; and it’s only then I’ll see the price paid for redemption; the cost of Love.