Judas and the Man of Sorrows

Good morning! Today we’re going to look at Judas, one of the twelve disciples, probably one of the most enigmatic, distorted, maligned disciples. Now, I’ve already preached this sermon twice, once at St. James and once at Cordata Presbyterian. So, on the third go, I have to change the opening. I’ve got to first mention one of the most maligned, distorted Judas-figures in American history — Aaron Burr.

On Friday night, my little family, Stacy and Asher and I, saw the amazing musical, Hamilton, in Seattle at the Paramount Theater. If you’re not familiar with the stage production, it is an incredible retelling of the life of founding father, Alexander Hamilton, telling of his contributions to American democracy and his tragic death in a pistol duel with his friend and nemesis, Aaron Burr. It’s a tragic story

Death doesn’t discriminate Between the sinners and the saints It takes and it takes and it takes History obliterates In every picture it paints It paints me and all my mistakes When Alexander aimed At the sky He may have been the first one to die But I’m the one who paid for it I survived, but I paid for it Now I’m the villain in your history I was too young and blind to see... I should’ve known I should’ve known The world was wide enough for both Hamilton and me The world was wide enough for both Hamilton and me

Hamilton invites us to rethink Aaron Burr’s legacy. How does this iconic event of an American Judas teach us about regret, tragedy, and legacy? How might we be invited to consider the events of history through the pain and loss of such a man who want to make the most of his shot as a politician and in doing so, ends up being a murderer, an outcast, and a pariah? Can we suspend our judgement of Burr in order to see the broader picture? Not that he was right, but that his motivations were so much greater than a simple duel and disagreement. Perhaps this can help us wonder at how this distorted disciple Judas is remembered as well.

Now, a disclaimer: Judas’ story is a heartbreaking tragedy that ends in his death by suicide.

So before I go any further, I want to mention that there will be a Scripture reading that includes a brief description of Judas’ suicide. I use this to highlight the tragedy of Judas’ story, not to make a spectacle of death by suicide. If you, or anyone you know, is contemplating suicide or is in need of emotional, mental, or spiritual support, please reach out to someone. You are not alone. You are a beloved child of God and no matter what the circumstance, God is ready to welcome you, love you, and bring healing where you most need it. I know the support system of this church is strong and your pastor, your deacons, your friends are here to stand with you. Please, know this. If you would like to talk with someone after the service, I will stick around up front here.

The other thing I want to say up front is that it is important for us to suspend our presuppositions about who Judas is. The standard perspective is for us to blame Judas, to make him the scapegoat, the betrayer. There’s actually a whole unfortunate legacy in Christian tradition that may have seen Judas as a representative for the “Judeans” or Jews and turned Judas’ actions into a justification for broad antisemitic anger. We mustn’t run in that direction.

Judas is also seen as the villain. Obviously, this idea makes sense in the context of Jesus’ death, but again, hold on for a moment. Why would Jesus need a villain? Weren’t there already so many other wicked social problems and pressures upon Christ’s ministry? The oppression of the Roman empire upon the people of Israel. Corruption in and through the entire religious establishment. Poverty and hunger that clearly impacted those who followed Jesus. Jesus doesn’t need another villain.

So, then, why do we have the Judas story? Could it possibly be that we have something to learn from him, from his witness to Jesus’ life, and even from his act of betrayal to his beloved rabbi?

With this in mind, let’s begin.

First, I want to take us back to the Isaiah text we’ve just heard. Backing up to the beginning of the passage, we hear this:

The New Revised Standard Version Chapter 53

53 Who has believed what we have heard?

And to whom has the arm of the LORD been revealed?

2 For he grew up before him like a young plant,

and like a root out of dry ground;

he had no form or majesty that we should look at him,

nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.

3 He was despised and rejected by others;

a man of suffering and acquainted with infirmity;

and as one from whom others hide their faces

he was despised, and we held him of no account.

Who is the man of suffering, the man of sorrows? Who is the one who was despised?

This prophecy foretells the Messiah, the Christ, the servant upon whom God’s favor rests. We must keep this suffering servant in mind as we consider the disciple Judas. We praise the Man of Sorrows, the man of afflictions, because those sorrows and afflictions are what we have come to believe are the key to Christ’s undoing of the power of death.

No small thing, is it? Through Christ’s death and resurrection the power of sin and death are broken. That’s what we believe in, proclaim, right? Can I get an amen?

Alright, let’s get back to Judas.

We find him interacting with Jesus as Jesus encounters the woman, Mary, who poured out precious perfume to wash his feet.

John 12:1–8 NRSV

1 Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. 2 There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him. 3 Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. 4 But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said, 5 “Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?” 6 (He said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief; he kept the common purse and used to steal what was put into it.) 7 Jesus said, “Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial. 8 You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.”

Who is Judas Iscariot?

Well, he’s one of the twelve disciples. We hear about him only a handful of times in the gospels. And, as we see in this reading, we hear about Judas through the lens of hindsight — he’s the one who would betray Jesus, he’s the one who loved money a little too much, it seems. Even the gospel writers seem to have made up their minds about Judas.

A bit more biographical info on Judas — Iscariot is not his last name, just like Christ is not Jesus’. Rather, Jesus is the Christ, the second member of the trinity, the one who was with God before all things. And Judas is an Iscariot, which is likely a Greek version of the name of the village he came from, the village of Kerioth.

Helpful, as well, to understanding who Judas is is noting that some scholars believe he was a political zealot. We hear about zealots elsewhere in the gospels. These are folks who believe that political revolution must take place to over throw the unjust oppression from Rome and the synagogue. Zealots were willing to take back power by force. This is key in understanding Judas.

Let’s pause there.

Have you ever felt so deeply convicted about something that you would fight for it at any cost? I imagine some of us here or some dear ones we know have served in the armed forces. Or perhaps on a simpler, more intimate level, wouldn’t you fight for your kids, your partner, your friends? No greater love is this than the one who lays down his life for his friends.

We know Jesus had this kind of mindset. Elsewhere in the prophet literature of Scripture, we hear that the messiah’s face is set like flint, focused and prepared to encounter his suffering.

And, so, likewise, we might imagine that Judas believed the cause of overthrowing the powerful was worth any cost.

In fact, there were many who followed Jesus who longed to see him be more of a social revolutionary. They wanted an uprising, a fight. And Jesus was incredibly frustrating to them, I imagine, because of his way of peace, his teaching about loving enemies and bearing the burdens of those who would persecute us. That’s frustrating language for those of us who want something more immediate to happen.

Story

Years ago, my wife Stacy and some friends and I floated inner tubes down a section of the Nooksack River. It was a new section to us, but slow and comfortable, until it wasn’t. Without realizing, 3 of the 4 of us drifted off to the lefthand side of the river and found ourselves running directly into a large snag of trees and branches. It was so scary. All three of us went right in and got sucked down. Thankfully, we each found a branch to hold. But I remember looking around and seeing Stacy begin to struggle, not quite able to pull herself up. Something in me clicked and I went into overdrive protection super strength mode. I pulled Stacy up, somehow, saving her. My friend as well. We navigated the snag and made it to safety on the shore.

Something happened in me in that moment. There was nothing else that mattered except for helping my wife. My conviction, my sole purpose, was to get her to safety.

Let’s go back to Judas and the bottle of perfume: Let’s suspend John’s editorial, hindsight comments, and simply look at the interaction between Judas and Jesus. Judas sees the wanton use of perfume as a grave mistake — it is worth something and could absolutely help the poor, rather than being lavished upon Jesus.

And we know Jesus is all about helping the poor, right? So he should be on board with this, right? Well, not exactly. Because Jesus understands the significance of this act as something much greater — it is preparation for what he “must do” — die. He says it plainly — you will not always have me with you.

Imagine how spurned Judas must have felt. Confusion, anger, embarrassment. I imagine him sheepishly walking to the back of the group, mumbling to himself how he’d been made a spectacle. And we take this interaction and we say, “see, he’s a selfish thief.” But also, don’t we see his heart here — he wanted to undo the powers that keep the poor held down. He wanted revolution, to change lives, to set people free, just like Jesus. He simply saw the immediate where Jesus was aware of the eternal significance.

I am the father of a 7-year old kid named Asher. He is my joy. I love him dearly.

Sometimes, surprisingly, I frustrate him. No, you can’t do that right now. No, you can’t have more dessert. And, like any good kid, his reply is often, “why?”

Now, I’m far enough along in the parenting journey to have become very familiar with the following phrase: “Because I said so.”

Honestly, that’s not really a fair answer. But what it means is that I, perhaps, have more perspective on the situation than Asher does. I might see a little more than he does, right?

Isn’t this similar to what we see in Jesus and Judas’ interaction? Jesus sees the bigger picture.

And can we blame Judas for not seeing it all? Of course not. It doesn’t make his actions any less significant, but if we ground them in his life, of course he doesn’t get why they would waste money lavishly and not practically help others.

Ok, let’s get to the next part of the Judas story, the one we all probably know pretty well.

Judas walks out of the upper room after the last supper meal with Jesus and the rest of the disciples and he goes to betray Jesus to the religious leaders. He decides its time to throw Jesus under the bus, to keep the cause afloat.

When we think about Judas’ act from the perspective of his zealotry and convictions, then doesn’t it line up? Of course it does. Even if it means undermining the work of his leader, if it aides in the cause, then so be it.

Perhaps Judas believed that if he turned Jesus over, then the people would rise up to set him free. Perhaps Judas expected the outcry to go up for the arrested rabbi. After all, Jesus was very popular with the people — he’d just ridden in to Jerusalem on a donkey to praises of Hosanna! Maybe Judas’ betrayal would spark an insurrection, an uprising. Doesn’t that make sense?

Again, we see that he does not have the whole perspective.

But, here is the good news at the heart of this text. As people of follow Jesus, we believe that his death on the cross, as a criminal, under the power of Rome and the religious elite, this death and his subsequent resurrection is the focal point of the complete dismantling of the powers of death and the setting free of all humanity through his blood. Amen?

Jesus’ death didn’t spark a riot. It actually is a spectacle and example that riots, uprisings, sacrifices, all are secondary, lesser, than the power of God. Christ’s death and resurrection show us that the power of death is a farce, a ruse, a power play. And we, the people of God, will have no more of it — death no longer has a sting.

This is God’s faithfulness to us — that in Christ, we are set free from death. Amen?

And here’s the kicker with Judas — he aides and abets Jesus’ dismantling of the power of death. Whether he knows what he’s doing or not — God uses Judas. The story doesn’t work without Judas’ act. Hear me — Judas is deeply linked to Jesus’ work in us. We need Judas.

And, of course, Judas’ story leads to regret and suicide. An utter tragedy.

We can wonder — what if Judas knew of the resurrection? What if Judas saw the aftermath, the way the church grew and actually did have the ability to help the poor, to care for the orphan and the widow. What if? Instead, his regret leads him to a tree.

Matthew 27:3–5 NRSV

3 When Judas, his betrayer, saw that Jesus was condemned, he repented and brought back the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and the elders. 4 He said, “I have sinned by betraying innocent blood.” But they said, “What is that to us? See to it yourself.” 5 Throwing down the pieces of silver in the temple, he departed; and he went and hanged himself.

So tragic. Lord, have mercy. Can we see the image of Judas? Yes, this is from one of my favorite comicbooks, written by Jeff Loveness and illustrated by Jakub Rebelka. See the focus in Judas’ eyes, the conviction and the pain?

How do we learn from Judas’ story? Not only of what we hope we might never do, but also, what if we were bold enough to ask, What Would Judas Do?

You’ve all seen the bracelets, WWJD, What Would Jesus Do. Well, we’re being asked, as we consider this often distorted disciple’s life, what would Judas do?

What if our faith demands us to step outside of the bounds of what is typical or safe? What if we are meant to participate in the realigning of our systems to better care for the poor, the sick, the widow, and if we do so, what if it demanded us to break ties with our own position, plans, and power? What if this is actually what Jesus calls some of us to do, to stand outside the system so that the work of God is done?

At the last supper, Jesus tells Judas to do what he must do. Be faithful to what you must do. Be faithful to the great work of God that is at play here.

Judas was faithful to what he knew he “must do,” even if that meant he would ultimately have to stand outside the ranks of those we consider faithful.

Hear this final challenge: What is God calling you to do, regardless the cost? Perhaps its time to walk away from all that is safe and comfortable to confront the reality that we must, at times, turn our backs on what we hold dear and trust that there is yet a different part for us to play in God’s ultimate plan of breaking us all free from the powers of death.