Judas Iscariot: The most reviled name in all of Sacred Scripture is judged only by his act of betrayal, but without him among the Apostles is there any Gospel at all?
False witness and betrayal are two of the most heinous themes in all of world literature, and Sacred Scripture is no exception. Literature is filled with it because so are we. Not many of us get to live our lives without ever experiencing the false witness of an enemy or the betrayal of a friend.
Recently, I was confronted by the death of someone whom I once thought of as a friend, someone who once betrayed me with a self-serving story of false witness for nothing more redemptive than thirty pieces of silver. It’s an account that will be taken up soon by some other writer for I am not objective enough to bring justice, let alone mercy, to that story.
But for now, there is one aspect of it that I must write about at this of all times. As I was preparing to offer Mass late on a Sunday night, the thought came that I should offer it for this betrayer, this liar, this thief. Every part of my psyche and spirit rebelled against that thought, but in the end, I did what I had been beckoned to do.
It was difficult. It was very difficult. And it cost me even more of myself than that person had already taken. It cost me the perversely comforting experience of eternal resentment. I have not forgiven this false accuser. That is a grace I have not yet discovered. Nor could I so easily set aside the depth of his betrayal.
In offering the Mass, I just asked God not to see this story only as I do. I asked Him not to forever let this soul slip from His grasp, for perhaps there were influences at work that I do not know. I have always suspected so.
The obituary said he died “peacefully” just two weeks before his 49th birthday. It said nothing about the cause of death nor anything about a Mass. There was a generic “celebration of his life.” False witness does not leave much to celebrate. Faith, too, had been betrayed for money.
I am still angry with this person even in death, but I take no consolation that his presence in this world has passed. My anger will have to be comfort enough because at some point I realized that my Mass was likely the only one in the world that had been sacrificed for this soul with any legitimate hope for salvation.
That’s the problem with false witness. Its purveyors tell themselves they have no need for salvation. I do not know whether he is any better off for this Mass having been offered, but I do know that I am.
EVER ANCIENT, EVER NEW
The experience also focused my attention on history’s most notorious agent of false witness and betrayal, Judas Iscariot. Who has ever prayed for the soul of a betrayer? Not I – at least, not yet – but I also just weeks ago thought it impossible that I would pray for the soul of my accuser.
I cannot get Judas off my mind this week. And as with most Biblical narratives, once I took a hard look, I found a story on its surface and a far greater one in its depths. In those depths is an account of the meaning of the Cross that I found to be staggering today. It changes the way I today see the Cross and the role of Judas in bringing it about.
Just before my 35th priesthood ordination anniversary, Father Stuart MacDonald wrote a guest post for These Stone Walls entitled, “Ever Ancient, Ever New: Jesus’ Priesthood in a Time of Chaos.” It strikes me that there is not a single place in the narrative of salvation history that does not reflect chaos.
Understanding the Sacrifice of Calvary requires a journey all the way back to the time of Abraham, some 2000 years before the Birth of the Messiah. God had earlier made a covenant with Abraham, a promise to make of his descendants a great nation.
The story of the birth of his son, Isaac, foreshadows that of John the Baptist who in turn foreshadows Jesus. Abraham and Sarah, like Zechariah and Elizabeth, were too old to bear a child, and yet they did. And not just any child. Isaac was the evidence and hope of God’s covenant with Abraham. “I will multiply your descendants as the stars of heaven.”
Then, in Genesis 22, God called Abraham to do the unthinkable: to sacrifice his only son, the one person who was to fulfill God’s covenant. The scene unfolds on Mount Moriah, a place later described in the Book of Chronicles (2 Ch 3:1) as the very site of the future Jerusalem Temple. In obedience, Abraham placed the wood for the sacrifice upon the back of his son, Isaac, who must carry the wood to the hilltop (Gen 22:6).
On that Via Dolorosa, the child Isaac asked his father, “Where is the lamb for the sacrifice?” Abraham’s answer “God will provide Himself the lamb for a burnt offering.” Notice the subtle play on words. There is no punctuation in the original Hebrew of the text. The thought process does not convey, “God Himself will provide the lamb…. but rather, “God will provide Himself, the lamb for sacrifice.”
An Angel of the Lord ultimately stayed Abraham’s hand, and then pointed out a ram in the thicket to complete the sacrifice. In his fascinating book, The Lamb’s Supper: The Mass as Heaven on Earth (Image Books 1999) author Scott Hahn provides a reflection on the Genesis account that I had long linked to the Cross:
“Christians would later look upon the story of Abraham and Isaac as a profound allegory for the sacrifice of Jesus on the Cross.” (p. 18)
The similarities in the two accounts, says Scott Hahn, are astonishing. The first line of the New Testament – Matthew 1:1 – identifies “Jesus the Messiah, the son of David, the son of Abraham…” Jesus, like Isaac, was a faithful father’s only son. Isaac, like Jesus, carried “the wood” for his own sacrifice upon Mount Moriah. In fact, Calvary, the place of the Crucifixion of Christ, is a hillock in the Moriah range.
This places three pivotal Scriptural accounts – each separated by about 1,000 years – in the same place: The site where Abraham was called to sacrifice Isaac, the site of the Jerusalem Temple of Sacrifice, and the site of the Crucifixion of Christ.
In Hebrew, that place is called “Golgotha,” meaning “the place of the skull.” Its origin is uncertain, but there is an ancient Hebrew folklore that the skull of Adam was discovered there. Before the Romans arrived in Palestine, it was a place used for public executions, primarily for stoning. The word “Calvary” is from the Latin “calvaria” meaning “skull.” It was translated into Latin from the Greek, “kranion,” which in turn was a translation of the Hebrew, “Golgotha.”
No angel would stay the Hand of God. God provided Himself the Lamb for the sacrifice. This interplay between these Biblical accounts separated by 2,000 years is the source for our plea in the Mass, “Lamb of God Who takes away the sins of the world, have mercy on us.”
AT THE HOUR OF DARKNESS
The four Gospel accounts in the Canon of Scripture all came into written form after the apostolic witnesses experienced the Resurrection of Jesus. So everything they set out to preserve for the future was seen in that light. The outcome of the story is triumphantly clear in the minds of the New Testament authors. Had the Gospel ended at the Cross, the accounts would be very different.
Judas Iscariot, therefore, is identified early in each Gospel account when he is first summoned by Jesus to the ranks of the Apostles as “the one who would betray him.” John (6:71) adds the Greek term, “diabolos” (6:70), to identify Judas. It is translated “of the devil,” but its connotation is also that of a thief, an informer, a liar, and a betrayer, one drawn into evil by the lure of money.
These adjectives are not presented only to explain the character of Judas, but also to explain that greed left Judas open to Satan. Each Gospel account is clear that Jesus chose him among the Twelve, and in all three Synoptic Gospels, Matthew, Mark, and Luke, Jesus presents a constant awareness of the coming betrayal of Judas – seemingly as a necessary part of the story.
During Holy Week this year, we hear the full account of the Passion Narrative from Mark (on Palm Sunday) and John (on Good Friday) But for this post I want to focus on the version from Luke The Gospel of Luke is unique in Scripture It is the only Scriptural account written by a non-Jewish author.
Luke’s Gospel is the only account with a sequel, Acts of the Apostles, which was also written by Luke. And it is the only Gospel account to include the parables of the Prodigal Son and the Good Samaritan, all of which figure into this story set in motion by the betrayal of Judas.
Luke, though a Gentile and a physician, was also a scholar. He makes few direct references to Old Testament texts, but his Gospel is filled with echoes and allusions to Old Testament themes. Greek Christians may not have readily understood this, but he also wrote his Gospel for Jewish Christians in the Diaspora who would have found in Luke a rich and valuable affirmation of salvation history in their life of faith.
What is most clear to me in Luke’s treatment of Judas is that the story is written with a theme that I readily identify with spiritual warfare. The Passion Narrative has a thread that begins with a story I have written before. In “Azazel and the Priests Who Stopped on the Road to Jericho,” I wrote about the meaning of Satan’s temptation of Christ in the desert. It ends in Luke’s Gospel:
“When the devil had ended every temptation [of Christ], he departed from him until an opportune time.” (Luke 4:13)
Luke constructs his account of the Judas story with threads throughout his Gospel. He shows that the power of Satan, which is frustrated by Jesus in the account of his 40-day temptation in the desert “until an opportune time,” finds its opportunity, not in Jesus, but in Judas whose act of betrayal triggers “the hour of darkness” and the Passion of the Christ:
“Then Satan entered Judas, called Iscariot, who was a member of the Twelve. He went away and conferred with the chief priests…. (Luke 22:3)
The origin and meaning of “Iscariot” is uncertain. It is not known whether it is a name or a title associated with Judas. In Hebrew, it means “man of Keriot”, a small town marking the border of the territory of the Tribe of Judah (see Joshua 15:21.25), to which both Judas and Jesus belonged. Betrayal is all the more bitter when the betrayer is closely associated. The Greek Iskariotes has the cognate sicarias, meaning “assassin,” a name ascribed to a band of outlaws in New Testament times.
It is clear in Luke’s presentation that this act of Judas is equated with original sin, the sin of Adam and Eve lured by the serpent. At the Last Supper, after the Institution of the Eucharist, Jesus said:
“But behold the hand of him who is to betray me is with me at this table, for the Son of Man goes as it has been determined” (Luke 22:21).
Jesus added, “But woe to that man by whom he is betrayed.” That “woe” is symbolized later in the way the life of Judas ends as described below. The phrase, “as it has been determined,” however, implies that the betrayal was seen not only in its own light but also as a necessary part of God’s plan.
Later, with Judas absent, Jesus warned his disciples at the Mount of Olives, “Pray that you may not enter into temptation.” They did anyway. After the arrest of Jesus at Gethsemane, they scattered. Peter, leader of the Twelve, denied three times that he even knew him. Then the cock crowed (Luke 22:61) just as Jesus predicted. This is often depicted as a literal rooster crowing, but the bugle ending the third-night watch for Roman legions at 3:00 AM was also called the “cockcrow.”
At Gethsemane, Judas betrays Jesus with a kiss, perverting a sign of friendship and affection into one of betrayal and false witness. This is what begins the Passion Narrative and the completion of Salvation History. Jesus tells Judas and the servants of the chief priest:
“When I was with you day after day in the Temple you did not lay a hand on me, but this is your hour, and the power of darkness.” (Luke 22:53)
Later, in the Acts of the Apostles (26:18) Luke identifies the power of darkness as being in opposition to the power of light, an allusion to spiritual warfare. For Luke’s Gospel, it is our ignorance of spiritual warfare that leaves us most vulnerable.
Following immediately after the betrayal of Judas, one of the disciples present draws his sword and cuts off the ear of the servant of the High Priest. In the Gospel of John, the disciple is identified as Peter. This account is very significant and symbolic of the spiritual bankruptcy that Judas set in motion.
In the well-known Parable of the Good Samaritan in Luke’s Gospel, a parable I wrote about in “Azazel and the Priests Who Stopped on the Road to Jericho,” a priest came upon the broken body of an injured man left beaten by robbers on the side of the road. Jesus says in the Parable that the priest just passed by in silence, but this was readily understandable to the Pharisee to whom the parable is told.
The Pharisee, an expert in the Old Covenant law of Moses, understood that the Book of Leviticus forbade a priest who is defiled by the dead body of an alien from offering sacrifice in the Jerusalem Temple. The severed ear of the High Priest’s servant at Gethsemane refers back to the same precept:
“So no one who has a blemish shall draw near [to the Sanctuary], no one who is blind or lame or has a mutilated face…” (Leviticus 22:18)
The symbolism here is that the spiritual bankruptcy of the High Priest, who is not present at the arrest, is represented by his servant. In Luke’s Gospel, and in Luke alone, Jesus heals the ear. It is the sole miracle story in the Passion Narrative of any of the four Gospels and represents that Jesus wields the power of God even over the High Priest and Temple sacrifice.
When the role of Judas Iscariot is complete, he faces a bizarre end in Luke. The Gospel of Matthew (26:56) has Judas despairing and returning his 30 pieces of silver to the Temple. Luke, in Acts of the Apostles (1:16-20) explains that the actions of Judas were “so that the Scriptures may be fulfilled.” But in Luke, Judas meets an even more bitter end, bursting open and falling headlong as “all his bowels gushed out.” The field where this happened then became known as the Field of Blood, and the money that purchased it, “blood money.”
The point of the story of Judas in the Gospel of Luke is that discipleship engages us in spiritual warfare, and spiritual blindness leaves us vulnerable to our own devices, as it did Judas. This life “is your hour, and the power of darkness.” The plot against Jesus was Satan’s, and Judas was but its pawn.
So who prays for the souls of our betrayers? I did, and it was difficult. It was very difficult. But I can see today why Jesus called us to pray for those who persecute us. It is not only for their sake but for ours.
Editor’s Note: Please share this post. For further reading, the Easter Season comes alive in these others from These Stone Walls:
Alan Catelli says
Somewhere in “Mere Christianity ” by CS Lewis he writes on forgivness. He writes about how it is nescesary to forgive. He writes that one thing that help us to forgive someone, is to do a kindness for them. Because it is a kindness, it is difficult even if it would be otherwise simple. This kindness doesn’t even have to be something that they know has happened. We know that we did it, and it cost us something and was hard because we don’t like the person. But we can’t do kind acts for people we don’t like, and it is hard to not forgive those we do like. Thus by forcing ourselves to be kind to those we don’t like, we create a space where we can get ourselves to forgive them.
Examples of this kindness could be an anonymous gift to the person that they need – a meal, a car payment, etc. I supose offering a mass is the most valuable thing anyone of us could do given that in the mass we encounter God.
patricia says
A huge hug from an auld wan. I’m off to Lourdes where I will pray for your intentions at the Grotto. God Bless you for the wonderful witness you are to our Catholic faith. So many Souls are being lost as cradle catholics keep silent.
Maria says
“On the first level of our consideration is how God wants us to cooperate with His providence whenever we are the unwilling and innocent victims of other people’s sins. But people may still be causing us pain, maybe for years, they not only were but they are now offending God and at least because we hear or read about their sinful conduct they offend us. What does God expect of us? He expects us to pray and sacrifice for these people so they might stop offending Him and depending on the gravity of their sin, might be converted and be reconciled with their God. It is impossible to exaggerate the practical importance of this reading of divine providence. God wants every sinner to repent and return to His friendship. He wants every priest who has rejected his priesthood and turned his back on Christ to be reconciled with his Master. He wants every religious who has been unfaithful to his or her vowed commitment to make their peace with God. He wants every husband who has sinned against his wife and children to repent and be saved. He wants every woman who has killed her unborn offspring to be converted. Every prostitute to reach heaven. Every thief and murderer to one day see the face of God. He wants the Church’s persecutors, wherever, and in our own country to love the God they are now opposing among the faithful. In a word, God wants sinners to return to the One they offended and finally to save their souls. But all of this means that we must do our part, we must pray and sacrifice in order to obtain from God’s mercy the grace that sinners need, desperately need, to stop sinning and start serving God. They will, they will stop offending God, but I repeat, we must do our part. The more patient we are in bearing the wrongs of others, the more forgiving we are, the more ready we are to pay the price of being maybe deeply agonizingly hurt by a sinner, the more grace God has in store for that sinner. My generosity, my patience in bearing wrong is the divinely ordained condition for obtaining God’s merciful forgiveness even for the worst crimes that people will commit. It is up to us to never count the cost in order to obtain the mercy of God for those who have sinned. And the more deeply we have been hurt, the more agonizingly we have suffered injustice, hear it and don’t forget, the more we hold that sinner’s salvation in our hands. Our patient endurance of suffering is the price that Jesus wants us to pay to bring sinners to that heavenly kingdom reserved only for those who have tasted the mercy of God”.
— Fr. John Hardon SJ, Servant of God
From: Sin in the Providence of God,
Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius Conference Conference Retreat
A.P. O'Beachain says
Love your posts from hell that you turned into Jesus’ redeeming sacrifice Father Gordon
Pierre Matthews says
Reverend Dr. Gordon MacRae,
What a “beautiful” magisterial meditation on God’s love and man’s constant betrayal.
We are forever totally uncapable to grasp his unfathomable love for us. You have experienced betrayal but you have integrated this feeling in your life with Jesus at the highest level, Father, forgive them as they do not know…
I am convinced Judas will show up at the Lord’s table at the end of times.
As so many times in the past, we, your readers and followers, discover your characteristic theological perception opening new vistas on earth and, yes, in heaven.
PS: adding a comma makes a hell of a difference.
Esther Caswell says
At the Chrism Mass I was pierced deeply by the pain of all priests who for whatever reason we’re not able to participate liturgically during this Holy Week. Praying for a blessed Triduum for you.
What is a priest really? Who are the priests? At what point does your ordination to be The Reality. When does the priest become The Priest.
It is when he dies. When all that is not, dies.
The priest says in the Roman Canon “ this pure victim, this holy victim, this spotless victim” We are not Holy, Pure or Spotless…not until we allowed our victimhood to be fully united with him.
There is only one Victim and if there is more than one victim then self pity is involved. It is when our self pity dies and our victimhood is subsumed in His that we become who we are called to be.
A priest becomes a priest when he allows Jesus to die for him because he knows Jesus needs to die for him. When this happens and he receives it then he is taken up in Christ. Then at the mass when he offers Christ to the Father, he offers himself as well.
But this is so difficult. It is difficult to die. To truly die. There is always a cry of self pity somewhere in us. This is where we need Mary. She, the only creature of our race to offer a perfect sacrifice, takes our offering, she perfects it. She removes the self pity, comforting us where we need comfort and walks us to the cross where we are called to unity.
Blessed is the priest called to die before his death. Blessed the priest who not only says “I will drink of the same chalice” but rather the one who drinks of it when offered and does not leave a drop.
Today on this day when all the priests are gathered around the Altar, Jesus calls you aside. He asks you in the quiet and anonymity of the hidden garden. “Will you drink of this chalice?”
“Will you let your victimhood be taken up in mine by the removal of all self pity?”
This is when a priest becomes a priest.
You are a priest forever!
Bridget Spitznagel says
A post about praying for someone who has betrayed us is always a timely post for me. In Wednesday’s Night Prayer we are reminded not to hold onto anger past sunset in a way that gives the devil an opportunity. It is a reminder that I need pretty regularly.
But I would like to change the subject completely for a moment and let you know that I went to the Chrism Mass today (Holy Thursday) and was moved while there to lift you up in my heart, Father Gordon. (I am too scatterbrained to think of doing that on my own.) Please know that God loves you very much. On my own initiative I will add that St Teresa of Avila says this life is one bad night in a bad inn (compared to eternity in heaven) and that in my opinion God has sent you to a very bad inn indeed, but that it would be a worse one if you were not there.
Gérald C. LaJeunesse says
Dear Gordon
Be yourself blessed through your prayer for the person who betrayed you. May he rest in peace and that peace bring you peace.
My experience is that forgiveness is a process. It is what I’ve discoved in my readings on the subject also. The deeper the hurt, the more intense the process.
Personally, it started with wanting to forgive, even if I couldn’t right off. Forgiving, even if initially I didn’t think was deserved, was the only way. I couldn’t bring myself to wanting harm, because there was love, there were wonderful memories and beautiful moments; betrayal could not deny or erase them, though they made the betrayal sureal, inconceivable.
So, all the power to you for offering mass for the repose of the soul for your betrayer.
Joyeuses Pâques
Gérald, ptre
Catherine Lemek says
Dear Fr. Gordon,
I love your post. In my young life, I was terribly hurt by a neighbor’s stepfather. This action haunted me for many years every day of my life – a reason I do not buy into “repressed memory syndrome”, every day was a flash of being in that moment. All I know is that during my conversion, I knew I needed to forgive this man and to “bless those who hurt you”. He had died some years before. I forgave him and offered a prayer for his salvation. My most serious and grateful reward was being released from the moment, and I do most hope that he repented and converted in the hour of his death – a most serious reward to the Author of his life, and Our Saviour, Jesus Christ.
Love,
Cathy
A. says
Another positively awesome post, Fr. Gordon. I’ve been waiting all day for a chance to read your post today, since I had a feeling it would be great, considering where we are in the liturgical year. And it’s even better than I imagined it could be!
I’ll have to revisit it again a few times, just to mull over some of these insights.
I’ve already gone and shared bits and pieces (and the link to the original) with all my friends who I thought might take any interest in this beautiful theology (who, amusingly enough, are all Protestants…).
It’s especially timely for me as I reflect on how I can help encourage a couple of friends of mine, who struggle with holding grudges, to practice forgiveness. And, of course, most importantly, how I must model forgiveness and mercy in my own life, if I am to go asking others to do the same!
On another note, I attended a seder meal at my church the other day, and I thought of you the whole time- remembering your dream about the plate of maror, and then especially as the little guide-booklet spoke of how different aspects of the ritual show ‘our freedom is not complete until it is shared by all’ and so forth. I made a special effort to eat ALL the maror on my plate in memory of your sufferings and your dream- and I’ll be the first to admit to the silliness of that little gesture.
As we go through the liturgies of Holy Week, I’m hearing words from your previous posts- especially the reflections on Dismas and Simon of Cyrene- echoing in my mind.
One final thing I wished to say- you mention Judas’s kiss. I was reading Proverbs recently, and 27:6 stuck out to me, because of the Passion:
“Faithful are the wounds of a friend; profuse are the kisses of an enemy.”
So I thought I would share that.
Thank you again for this post (and all your posts), you are such a good shepherd to me as I continue to work on following Christ more closely, and I am profoundly thankful at the opportunity to learn from you, both your words and your deeds, and to offer you my ‘virtual visits’ each week. Another recent occurrence for me, was a priest preaching on the saying of ‘celebrate this Mass as if it were your first Mass, your last Mass, your only Mass,’ and I whispered it along with him, because I had first learned of the saying from you- although I’m afraid I can’t remember which specific post you mentioned it in. I continue to remember you in my prayers (as well as random other times, as mentioned above), and am doing the little I can, when possible, to defend the name of you and your fellow scapegoated priests. My family could attest to this; I think they’re beginning to get a bit tired of hearing my little speels! May God bless you this Holy Week, Father.
Bea says
Thank you for this deeply meaningful post, Father Gordon. Its timing is perfect!
In a much smaller way, I was betrayed a couple of weeks ago. Last night it occurred to me that I should offer prayers for this person. Reading your account today sealed my resolution to keep doing this.
May you rejoice in the upcoming Easter celebration.
A letter is on its way. . .
Anne Marie Brandt says
Dearest Father Gordon
As I read your beautiful post, the Words, “…and forgive us our trespasses as we FORGIVE those who trespass against us…”, came flashing in my mind. It is easy to say and so very much harder to do. However, we are asking God to forgive us as we forgive others. When you think about that, it truly stops you in your tracks. I have learned, through my journey, that forgiveness is not really for the benefit of the person who wronged us, but for ourselves. As you so appropriately stated, if we don’t forgive, we give a foothold to the devil. Then the soul starts is spiraling downward coarse. If Jesus, from His Cross, forgave us for our betrayal, for our beating, spitting and condemning Him, how much more should we strive to forgive our betrayers.
I pray you and Pornchi have a very Blessed Holy Week, and an Easter filled with our Savior’s immense Love. You are ALWAYS in my heart and prayers!
Love you and praying For you ALWAYS,
Anne Marie
Jo Ann says
I liked your meditation on Judas, and your betrayer. I have been to Palm Sunday every year I have been alive, but this year the echoes of false witness throughout the story — particularly in the kangaroo court of the Sanhedrin — were especially sharp. Many ‘come forward’, their stories conflict, it doesn’t matter, it is enough. Of course it is enough. And of course Pilate washes his hands.
Maria says
Fr. Gordon, it sounds so hard to say mass for your betrayer from the prison where he sent you so many years ago! Your post gives us a great example; we are so unwilling to let go of resentment over even much smaller offenses (I know I am). Continued prayers for you!
Regarding Judas, once I read the following eye-opening paragraph by Dorothy Sayers, in the introduction to her play “The Man born to be King”:
“Judas in the Gospels is an enigma. He is introduced suddenly, at a late moment in the action, “all set” for villainy. We are not told how he came to be a disciple, nor what motives drove him to betray his Master. St John says he was a thief; he certainly took payment for his treason; Jesus called him “diabolos” -the enemy- and “the son of perdition”; when he had done his worst and saw that he had done, he brought back the reward of iniquity and went out and hanged himself. He seems a strange mixture of the sensitive and the insensitive. One thing is certain: he cannot have been the creeping, crawling, patently worthless villain that some simple-minded people would like to make out; that would be to cast too grave a slur upon the brains or the character of Jesus. To choose an obvious crook as one’s follower, in ignorance of what he was like, would be the act of a fool; and Jesus of Nazareth was no fool, and indeed St. John expressly says that “He knew what was in” Judas from the beginning. But to choose an obvious crook for the express purpose of letting him damn himself would be the act of a devil. Either behaviour would be totally irreconcilable with the rest of the character of Jesus as it is recorded.
The worst evil in the world is brought about, not by the open and self-confessed vices, but by the deadly corruption of the virtues. Pride is the head and front of all sin, and the besetting sin of highly virtuous and intelligent people. Jesus, who dealt gently with “publicans and sinners”, was hard as nails about the lofty-minded Pharisees. If Jesus spoke of Judas with almost unexampled sternness, it is likely that the sin of Judas was of a peculiarly overweening loftiness. What his familiar devil precisely was, we are at liberty to conjecture; I have conjectured that it was an intellectual devil of a very insidious kind, very active in these days and remarkably skillful in disguising itself as an angel of light. The fact that various persons have written angrily to say that the Judas I have depicted seems to them to be a person of the utmost nobility, actuated by extremely worthy motives, confirms my impression that this particular agent of hell is at present doing his master’s work with singular thoroughness and success. His exploits go unrecognised – which is just what the devil likes best.”
Sue says
Words fully of power, Father! As Helen said, probably many of us have been betrayed & abandoned by our friends at times when we most needed their friendship. In my case, it was all my friends, some of whom I’d known for more than 35 years. I’ve worked on forgiving them for a long time now & I think I’m making progress with most of them. But, when you mentioned offering Mass for that person, I asked myself if I’d have a Mass offered for any of these people when they die. I have to admit, that it would be difficult to do. Then I remembered what my spiritual director tells me, “Forgiving someone doesn’t mean that what they did was OK. It wasn’t! But, it sets you free from the bondage of unforgiveness that’s still holding you to them.” That made it easier to let go & pray for their eternal salvation. Keeping you in our prayers, Father! Thank you for sharing your wise insights with us!
Fr. Stuart MacDonald says
Dear Fr Gordon
I have been pondering the point someone made in a comment a few weeks ago about you being assigned to minister in prison. Not by choice, but it is exactly what you are doing. To those who know the pain of false accusation and betrayal, your post today is a profound reminder of our Lord’s command to pray for those who persecute us, to love our enemies. To offer Mass for your betrayer was Christ-like. Can we even imagine that our Lord never prayed for Judas or Peter? You indeed may be the only priest who offered Mass for your betrayer. God’s mysterious Providence wends its way through our lives as you have demonstrated to us many times; your Mass was just another example. I don’t know the why of your suffering, dearest Father, but I do know it is a sign of God’s immense trust in, and love for, you. You are shining like gold in the Divine furnace. God bless you. Please remember me to Jesus as I know you are close to him on Calvary in these days.