Reflections from The Hill –Picnics and Betrayals

I’ve been known to be a few sandwiches short of a picnic, to have a couple of monkeys lose in the attic. Sometimes, this state of mind has been occasioned by a surfeit of brown ale or somesuch but, mostly, it’s just this little quirk in my nature that sends me a bit loopy.

A good example of what I’m on about happens when I think about how I got into this Church business. Far from getting misty-eyed, or blaming it on the demon drink, I’m often left with the conclusion that, at the time, I must have been nuts.

My reason for this introversion began when I started thinking about Judas. I sometimes think that Judas was a couple of sandwiches short, too. However, although he appears in the Passion Narrative, we don’t know very much about him; he’s not much more than a face in the crowd, really.

What little we do know of Judas includes the fact that he was the Treasurer of the group. That, in itself, indicates a certain level of idiocy and may explain some of his behaviour, but it doesn’t altogether explain the betrayal.

We’re not told why Judas did what he did. What was the real story behind that piece of skulduggery? Disappointment in Jesus? Fear of failure … or success? I struggle to believe that it was all about greed, so I’m not convinced by the 30-pieces-of-silver argument.

Was it just another monkey loose from his attic or was there something more sinister going on here?
In our society, we’ve always reserved our harshest judgments for those who commit some act of betrayal, whether it’s a David Hicks or a Rodney Adler. Trust, the other side of betrayal, is critical in maintaining a relationship, whether that relationship is between two people or a whole country. The ground shifts when a betrayal occurs.

Betrayal breaks the threads that hold us together as a community, or that give us our desires to live together. That’s when we lose our ability to be truly human.

Betrayal can destroy a marriage, a family, a church or a community so, make no mistake, we’ve always been hard on Judas and his imitators.

I wonder if the reason why we show the Judas’ of our world so little compassion is because we’re afraid there is something of his betrayal chromosome in us? That’s a scary thing to contemplate because none of likes the idea that we are capable of betrayal.

When Jesus pointed that out to the Twelve, their anxiety levels went through the ceiling. "Surely not I, Lord?" is what they asked. They might as well have said, "We’ve been worried about that, but we thought we had it under control."

If it’s true that the thing we find most difficult to forgive in others is the very thing we most struggle with and if we’ve fooled ourself into believing that we no longer have a dark side, then it’s no wonder that we show no mercy to those who reflect our own capacity for evil.

Betrayal terrifies us. We think we are doing OK on our commitments, but we just don’t know about that terrible Judas chromosome. Will it kick in to destroy a life that’s been built on righteousness? Who knows, but it’s well to be prepared.

One of the tough messages of Holy Week is that sooner or later each of us will betray Jesus. We will betray him at work when it costs too much to think or act like a Christian; we will betray Him in our homes when our anger is so great that we hurt those who trust us; we will betray him in our churches when our right-ness is more noticeable than our righteousness.

Someone has said that powerful people maintain their power by refusing to show mercy to failures.

In the Judas gospel forgiveness is not possible, because all there is is the pointless efforts we
make to put things right ourselves.

In the gospel of Jesus, however, there is always grace that creates a new ending to our lives; a
recovering of the monkeys that enables us to enjoy a fulsome party with all the
sandwiches.

Humour of The Week (thanks, Michael):

Little Sam was staying with his grandparents overnight when it came to bed- and prayer-time.

“Mardi”, says Sam to his granny “Do you know your prayers?”

"Of course, darling”, said Granny. “Do you know yours?”

“Oh, yes” said Sam and launched into his prayers, finishing with a loud “AMEN.”

Before Granny could utter a word, Sam continued “And do you know, Mardi, that if you
don’t finish with ‘Amen’, it won’t SEND.”

One
Liner of The Week:

Eve: "Do you love me, Adam?" Adam: "Who else?"