Last year during the week before Easter the question kept coming up, “What about Judas?” That, and the “immersive experiences” that include a mirror with “Behold the betrayer!” as though we should identify with Judas.
I’ll change the questions for myself this year. Instead of “What happened to Judas?” let’s ask what happened to the betrayed. Not just to Jesus, but to the disciples. Jesus knew what was coming, but the disciples didn’t. They felt lost, scared, confused, and angry. So much that had been wonderful in their lives was seemingly upended with a single kiss. Judas was their friend, someone they’d spent a lot of time with and cared about, maybe even respected.
Maybe some argued it couldn’t have been Judas. It was dark. It must have been someone else they saw. And maybe this upset others who knew who they saw, even in the dark. Maybe some blamed themselves. They recalled something Judas had said or done… they should have known. They should have warned Jesus. They should have done something. Anything. And then there was Peter. He did something. He drew his sword. But it was too late, and he was rebuked, and then he denied Jesus on top of everything else.
I’m sure the disciples felt to one degree or another that they were betrayers, but not because they identified with Judas. No, if they felt like betrayers, for the most part that was because they’d trusted Judas. Except Peter, who had even more to deal with. They couldn’t see through what was happening. They felt betrayed, and they may well have wrongly blamed themselves for a large part of the betrayal. They were scattered. Sunday didn’t bring them all back together, either. We like to think of resurrection as the final victory, but it would take a week or two or three for all the disciples to realize the story wasn’t finished.
I sat around a table tonight with strangers. There were prayer requests… and so many were for hope. Mine too. Last year this time was filled with so much joy and hope. This year is so different than I thought it would be, and I grieve what should have been and could have been. And yet Sunday’s coming, and even that’s not the end of the story. Just the beginning.
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