Judas

JUDAS ISCARIOT
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The expression “fallen away” or “lapsed” refers to those who, at one time blessed with grace and intimacy with the Divine, later abandon it. Our Lord referred to them in the parable of the Sower: “They have no root; they last only for a time. Then when tribulation or persecution comes because of the word, they quickly fall away” (Mark 4:17).

No one yet has ever left the Body of Christ or His Church for a reason, but many have left it for a thing. The thing may differ: It may be pride, wealth, flesh, or the thousand-and-one substitutes for God This truth is seen by a study of Judas, the one man in the Gospels who left Our Lord for a thing, and of whom Our Lord said: “It would be better for that man if he had never been born” (Matthew 26:24).

One day a babe was born at Kerioth. Friends and relatives came with gifts, because he was a child of promise. Not so far away another Babe was born in the village of Bethlehem. Because He, too, was a child of promise, friends came with gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Both babes grew in age, and one day the man of Bethlehem met the man of Kerioth and Our Lord chose Judas as His Apostle.

He was the only Judean among the Apostles; and since the Judeans were more skilled in administration than the Galileans, Judas was given the apostolic purse. Probably he was naturally best fitted for the task. To use a person for what he is naturally fitted is to keep him—if he can be kept—from apostasy and alienation and dissatisfaction. But at the same time, life’s temptations come often from that for which we have the greatest aptitude.

However, there must be first an inward failure, before there can be an outward one. Judas was avaricious. Avarice is a pernicious sin, for when other vices grow old, avarice is still young. The covetousness of Judas revealed itself particularly in Simon’s house when an uninvited guest, a sinful woman, broke in at dinner and poured ointment over the feet of Our Lord and then wiped it away with her hair.

Judas was at dinner that day. Judas knew how near the Lord’s betrayal was. Mary, that woman, knew how near His death was. Putting on the mask of charity, Judas simulated anger that such precious ointment should be wasted: “‘Why was not this ointment sold for three hundred pence, and given to the poor?’ Now he said this, not because he cared for the poor; but because he was a thief and held the money bag and used to steal the contributions.” (John 12:5-6). Our Lord did not affront Judas, who affronted Him. There is something inexpressibly sad and yet so patient, gentle, and tender in the words of Our Lord: “Leave her alone” (John 12:7).

There will always be souls like Judas who are scandalized at the wealth offered to Christ in His Church. If a man can give jewels to the woman he loves without scandal, why cannot the soul pour out its abundance to the God it loves in tribute of affection?

Our Lord praised the woman, saying she had anointed Him for His burial. Judas was shocked! So He was going to die! Later, on Wednesday of Holy Week, Our Lord told the Apostles and Judas: “You know that in two days time it will be Passover, and the Son of Man will be handed over to be crucified” (Matthew 26:2).

Christ would be crucified. That was certain. In the general cataclysm Judas must rescue something to comfort his avaricious spirit. “Then one of the Twelve, who was called Judas Iscariot, went to the chief priests and said, `What are you willing to give me if I hand Him over to you?’ They paid him thirty pieces of silver” (Matthew 26:14-15). The next evening, on the occasion of Our Lord’s Last Supper, the Savior again spoke about His betrayal: “One of you is about to betray Me!” (Matthew 26:21). The disciples looked at one another saying: “Is it I, Lord?” “Is it I?”

No conscience is pure in the sight of God; no one can be sure of his innocence. Judas then asked: “Is it I, Rabbi?” The Lord answered: “Thou hast said it.” And Judas went out and “it was night.” It is always night when one turns his back on God.

A few hours later Judas led a band of brigands and soldiers down the hill of Jerusalem. Though there was a full moon that night, the soldiers did not know whom they were to apprehend, so they asked Judas for a sign. Turning to them, he said: “The Man I shall kiss is the one; arrest Him” (Matthew 26:48).

Crossing over the brook of Kedron and into the Garden, Judas threw his arms around the neck of Our Lord and blistered His lips with a kiss. One word came back: “Friend.” Then the question: “Are you betraying the Son of Man with a kiss?” (Luke 22:48). It was the last time that Jesus spoke to Judas.

Only Judas knew where to find Our Lord after dark. Soldiers did not know. Christ in His Church is delivered into the hands of the enemy from within. It is the bad Christians who betray. The greatest harm to the cause of Christ is not done by enemies, but by those who have been cradled and nourished in the faith. The scandal of the “fallen aways” provides opportunities for enemies. The enemies perform the crucifixion, but those who have communed with Christ prepare the way.

Judas was more zealous for the cause of the enemy than he was in the cause of Our Lord. Those who leave the Church in like manner seek to atone for their uneasy consciences by attacking the Church. Since their consciences will not leave them alone, they will not leave the Guide of their consciences alone. Their hatred is not due to their unbelief, but their unbelief is due to their hatred. The Church makes them uneasy in their sin, and they feel that. If they could drive the Church from the world they could sin freely.

No sooner was the crime done than Judas was disgusted. The deep wells of remorse began surging up in his soul; but like so many souls today, he took his remorse to the wrong place. He went back to those with whom he trafficked. He had sold the Lord for thirty pieces of silver. God is always betrayed out of all proportion to its real worth. Whenever we sell Christ, be it for worldly advancement, such as those who give up their Faith because they cannot get anywhere politically with a cross on their backs, or be it for wealth, we always feel cheated in the end.

No wonder Judas took the thirty pieces of silver back to those who gave it to him, and sent the coins ringing and rolling and jingling across the Temple floor saying: “I have sinned in betraying innocent blood” (Matthew 27:4). He no longer wanted what he once wanted most. All the glamour was gone. Not even those to whom he returned the money wanted it. The money was good for nothing, except to buy a field of blood.

Being disgusted with sin is not enough. We must also be repentant. The Gospel tells us: “Then Judas, his betrayer, seeing that Jesus had been condemned, deeply regretted what he had done” (Matthew 27:3). But Judas did not repent in the true sense of the word. Rather, he had a change of feeling. He repented, but not to Our Lord; he repented unto himself. The latter is only self-hatred, and self-hatred is suicidal. To hate self is the beginning of self-slaughter. Self-hatred is salutary only when associated with the love of God.

Disillusionment and disgust may be a step toward religion, but it is not religion. Some think they love God because life did not keep all its promises, or because their dreams did not come true. They longed for an earthly part, and it turned out to be a mirage. They begin to see the vanity of the world. Depressions, sorrows, sickness, war, disappointments, have gradually weaned them from the world.

They no longer get much enjoyment from the world. They have no prospects of ever recovering their youth, so they turn to a mild hatred of sin. They confuse wisdom with satiety. They think they are pure because they are no longer tempted. They judge virtues by the vices from which they abstain. They care very little for the approval or disapproval of the world. Old friends are no longer interesting; new friends cannot be found.

The result is that in the course of time they turn to religion as a solace. They begin to keep the commandments because they have no strong motive for not doing it. They give up drink and other vices that may ruin their health. Such people are full of anxiety, complexes, and fears. They repent, but they repent unto themselves. They are sorry for their lot, but not sorry for having offended God.

When did the betrayal of Judas begin? The first record that we have in the Gospels of Judas falling was the day when Our Lord announced that He would leave Himself to the world in the Eucharist. In that marvelous story of this great sacrament is the suggestion that Our Lord knew who would betray Him.

In His own majestic words He heralded that union with Him would be more intimate than the union between the body and the food we ate: “Just as the living Father has sent Me and I have life because of the Father, so also the one who feeds on Me will have life because of Me...whoever eats this Bread will live forever” (John 6:57-58).

Our Lord, knowing what went on in human souls, added: “But there are some of you that believe not.” And the Gospel adds: “Jesus knew from the beginning the ones who would not believe and the who would betray him” (John 6:64).

The actual betrayal came the very night Our Lord gave that which He promised He would give for the life of the world, namely, the Holy Eucharist. No story in all the Gospel so much reveals the power of a single passion to enwrap, enchain, possess, and degrade a person’s character as the tragedy of the traitor Apostle. What religious associations could have been better than those of Judas, who received into his mind, memory, and heart the impress of the one incomparable Life with its thousand radiant rays of wisdom and charity?

It is we, then, who know Him, who possess His truth and His life, who can injure Him more than those who know Him not. We may never act the traitor’s part in a big way, but through insignificant signs: like the kiss of Judas, by a silence when we should defend, by fear of ridicule when we should proclaim, by a criticism when we ought to witness, or by a shrug of the shoulders when we ought to fold our hands in prayer. Well indeed may the Savior then ask us: “Friend, will you betray Me with a kiss?”

Judas went down into the valley of Ennom—the valley of ghastly associations, the Gehenna of the future. Over the cold, rocky ground he walked, amidst the jagged rocks between gnarled and stunted trees, which looked just like his twisted and tortured soul. There was only one thought in his mind: to empty himself of himself.

Everything seemed to bear witness against him. The dust was his destiny; the rocks were his heart; the trees, particularly, seemed to speak—their branches were as accusing arms and pointing fingers; their knots as so many eyes. The leaves seemed to shake in protest against making them the instrument of his vain destruction. They seemed almost to whisper that all other trees of its kind would tremble in shame until the final day of the Great Judgment.

Taking a halter from his cincture, he threw it over a strong limb and fastened one end of the halter about his neck. The winds seemed to bring him the echo of words he heard a year before: “Come to me all you who labor and are heavily burdened and find rest for your souls.” But he would repent unto himself, not to God.

And as the sun darkened, two trees made history on opposite sides of Sion—one the tree of Calvary and hope; the other, the tree of Ennom and despair. On one hung Him Who would unite Heaven and Earth, and on the other hung him who willed to be foreign to both.

And the pity of it all was that he might have been Saint Judas. He possessed what every soul possesses: a tremendous potential for sanctity and peace. But let us be sure that whatever be our sins, and regardless of the depths of our betrayal, there is ever a Hand outstretched to embrace, a Face shining with the light of forgiveness, and a Divine Voice that speaks a word to us, as it did with Judas even unto the end: “Friend.”
(Taken from Characters of the Passion, by Archbishop Fulton Sheen)