Today’s gospel from Matthew mirrors some of yesterday’s Last Supper account by John. Do you ever wonder why Jesus said to this intimate gathering of friends, “… one of you will betray me“? I do. I think there are a few options for what may have led him to say that.
A. Was he trying to motivate Judas to somehow change course? He says a bit later, “The Son of Man indeed goes, as it is written of him, but woe to that man by whom the Son of Man is betrayed.” Jesus knew the Father‘s plan had to be implemented in order to save humankind, but still, maybe somehow Judas could have extracted himself from the situation and the crucifixion could have come about through different circumstances.
B. Maybe he wanted to give Judas an opportunity to confess and repent?
C. Was he just speaking out of pain and distress and disappointment? And when Judas acted just as confused as everyone else about who the betrayer could be, Jesus’ crushing disappointment in Judas had to have been only magnified.
Imagine finding out that a dear, trusted friend had told authorities (who have trumped up, unjustified charges against you and evil intent) where to find you, all the while knowing you had done nothing wrong. Think of how painful that would be. The dread and sadness you would feel would be even worse because a chosen friend was aiding and abetting those who were out to kill you. The emotions would be swirling in your psyche, especially in Jesus’ case because he knew exactly what was going to happen to him.
I think Jesus said, “… one of you will betray me,” due to a combination of B and C above. I do think he wanted to offer Judas the opportunity to come clean and be forgiven. But I also think possibly the stress he was under just spilled out of him as he thought about how the agony that would soon follow was being assisted by his friend and follower. John’s account does say Jesus was deeply troubled.
Looking out my back window this morning, as spring tries desperately to break through, my eyes were drawn to a particular bush that made me think of the mental pain and chaos Jesus must have been going through that night. There is no better way to describe the huge shrub other than tormented and tangled. Its branches are growing every which way, criss-crossing and choking each other. It also made me think of Jesus’ crown of thorns. Although it doesn’t have thorns itself, it looks dry and prickly and painful. It’s a mess.
In past years, like most shrubs, trees and flower beds, that forsythia has magnified the glory of God and the splendor and miracle that is spring with its dainty, bright yellow flowers. But the last few years it has sadly lost its way. It is not comforting to look at.
Our minds and bodies can resemble that tangled shrub when we suffer pain and distress, like Jesus was experiencing in that moment. But just as Jesus clung to hope and his Father’s love to get him through the terrible events that were about to happen, so can we.
We plan to cut our forsythia down to its base, fertilize it, and allow it to start anew. And next year, when its fresh, fewer shoots yield yellow blooms and green leaves, it will remind me once again of the new life we have in Jesus through his death and resurrection. |
