Over the years I’ve developed a pretty big soft spot for Judas. When I look at Judas I see myself. It wasn’t always like that though. For a long time Judas was simply the betrayer of Jesus. And that’s all he was, all he’d ever been, and all he would ever be. That’s probably what most of us have been taught or come to believe about him. 

But is that really all there is to Judas? And is betrayal unique and exclusive to him? 

Here’s why I ask that. In the four gospels Judas is mentioned twenty times. Nine times he is called a traitor, the one who betrays Jesus. And nine times he is identified as one of the twelve, one of the chosen, a disciple. He’s not one or the other. He’s both. 

When Jesus says, “Very truly, I tell you, one of you will betray me,” the disciples look at each other, uncertain of whom he is speaking. They didn’t all look at Judas knowing he was the betrayer and say, “I never did like or trust that sorry so and so.” Their uncertainty means it could be any one of them. And they know it. Maybe they know their own betrayals and are wondering if they will be found out. 

One of the reasons I have a soft spot for Judas is that I’ve also struggled with Jesus, life, and faith. I’ve lived as less than who I wanted to be, less than who I knew myself to be. I’ve made choices I couldn’t live with.

So when I come to today’s gospel (John 13:21-32) I want to know that there is more to Judas than just a betrayer because I want to know that about myself too. I want to see Judas as more than his greatest failure, his biggest mistake, or his worst day because I want to see myself as more than that too. I want to make room for the complexities and contradictions within Judas because I want to make room for the complexities and contradictions within me. All of that raises questions for me about the truth in Judas’ life and my life. 

In yesterday’s sermon I told you that truth isn’t really truth and doesn’t become real until it is lived and experienced and that living and experiencing the truth usually means having an argument within ourselves. Will we be true to ourselves and the truth we know or will we turn away from that truth and betray ourselves? 

The answer to that question is yes. It’s not one or the other. It’s both. It was for Judas. It was for Peter when the cock crowed. It was for the disciples who abandoned Jesus on the cross. And it is for me and, I suppose, it is for you too. 

Sometimes we lose the argument with ourselves. I think that’s what’s happening to Judas in today’s gospel. He’s losing the argument within himself for his own integrity. And who among here today doesn’t know what that’s like?

Haven’t there been times when you turned away from the truth within you and you betrayed yourself?

Self-betrayal is always the first betrayal. Before we ever betray another we first betray ourselves and the truth we know. Judas’ self-betrayal preceded his betrayal of Jesus. These betrayals often are not the juicy headline grabbing things we often think of when we think about betrayals. Most aren’t intentional or malicious. They happen in subtle ways.

We get scared, frustrated, or tired. We doubt ourselves, become disillusioned, or despair. We feel overwhelmed and powerless. We act out of our past hurts and wounds, shame, or guilt. We get in a hurry, became impatient, take shortcuts. We feel alone, isolated, or overlooked and marginalized. We lose our sense of meaning and purpose. We settle and sell ourselves short. We forget our values, what really matters, and we go along to get along. We blame others instead of taking responsibility for ourselves. We give up on ourselves, one another, and the argument itself. 

We lose the argument within ourselves in a thousand different ways and when we do we betray. I wonder in what ways you’ve lost the argument for your own integrity. 

What truth within you today is getting betrayed? And how does that feel?

It feels pretty bad, doesn’t it? It was more than Judas could live with and he hung himself. What Judas couldn’t see and what I want you to know is that it feels so bad because that’s not who we are. The bad feeling of our betrayals is in strange way our teacher and guide. It’s reminding us of the truth that still lives within us, the truth that is still waiting to be given expression. 

What if instead of making a judgment or conclusion about how bad our betrayals feel, we let them call us back to ourselves?

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Image Credit: Judas by Edward Okuń – artyzm.com, Public Domain, Wikimedia Commons.