Mark
14:17-25
Picture
the most awkward meal you have ever attended.
It’s the dinner where you know that the host and hostess are talking
about divorce. It’s the child’s birthday
party where the father not only is away on business but has forgotten to call
and now it’s late wherever he is and you know the call isn’t coming. It’s the wedding where the mother of the
bride, who was never around when she was growing up, has appeared out of
nowhere and expects the step-mother who did the hard work of parenting to step
aside. It’s the retirement dinner for
the obnoxious department head that everybody just wants to see gone as soon as
possible. It’s the funeral lunch for the
driver who died drunk or the addict who finally overdosed.
How
about the Passover meal where the host announces that an unnamed guest has
sworn out his arrest warrant?
“And when they had taken their places and were
eating, Jesus said, ‘Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me, one who is
eating with me.’ They began to be distressed and to say to him one after
another, ‘Surely, not I?’ He said to them, ‘It is one of the twelve, one
who is dipping bread into the bowl with me. For the Son of Man
goes as it is written of him, but woe to that one by whom the Son of Man is
betrayed! It would have been better for that one not to have been born.’” [Mark 14:18-21]
Betrayal is an ugly thing. It’s the abuse of faith. It’s the conscious, knowing choice to take
someone’s trust and turn it to your own advantage at their expense. When it happens – and it happens constantly –
it hurts.
Christy
Thomas, who blogs under the handle “The Thoughtful Pastor”, wrote a Holy Week
meditation with the title “It’s Not the Blood: It’s the Betrayal” in which she
asks:
“Who has experienced betrayal this year?
Well, Equifax handed over the personal and
financial information on over 140,000,000 people to hackers. For years to come,
those hackers will sell it to those who will use your information, stored on a
system Equifax knew was not safe, to steal your identity, take out credit in
your name, and destroy your financial life.
Facebook happily pocketed the profit after
selling massive amounts of private information on you and your friends so
members of one mega-rich family could use it in any way possible to ensure
victory for their preferred candidate.
Elected politicians promised one thing and
delivered another; leaders of various entertainment, political, religious and
business fields were exposed as sleazy sexual predators; our children became
terrified to go to school because they don’t know when the next assault rifle,
legal for private citizens ONLY in the USA, would mow them down; banks insisted
you buy products you didn’t need and pharmaceutical companies sent prices
soaring on essential drugs, costing pennies to manufacture, that manage chronic
and debilitating illnesses.
Our friends turned into “frenemies” with their
gossip and backstabbing; we fought with our siblings and spouses; our children
disappointed us and we disappointed our parents; the weeds just kept coming up.
As has the temperature. We betrayed the earth; the earth is betraying us.
Finally, we all betrayed God. From the beginning
of recorded history, we’ve shoved a collective fist into the face of God and
said, ‘Thanks but no thanks. I’ll go my own way.’”[1]
Betrayal
hurts, and so does the awareness that we are all capable of it. When Jesus made his announcement and spoiled
the party, they didn’t look around and say, “Who is it? I bet it’s James or John – they’re always
claiming to be the greatest.” “It must
be Simon. He’s a Zealot.” “Matthew!
That skunk! A tax collector never
changes; he’s been on the Romans’ payroll all along.” The disciples were close enough to Jesus, and
he had taught them enough about human nature that they questioned themselves.
“They began to be distressed and to say to him
one after another, ‘Surely, not I?’” [Mark 14:19]
Judas may have been the one that Jesus had in
mind, but as the night went on the disciples’ need to be reassured that they
would never fail him got to be almost too much.
They kept pressing him and he finally gave in, but it wasn’t what they
wanted to hear:
“And Jesus said to them, ‘You will all become
deserters; for it is written,
“I will strike the shepherd,
and the sheep will be scattered.”
But after I am raised up, I will go before you to Galilee.’ Peter said to him, ‘Even though all become deserters, I will not.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Truly I tell you, this day, this very night, before the cock crows twice, you will deny me three times.’ But he said vehemently, ‘Even though I must die with you, I will not deny you.’ And all of them said the same.” [Mark 14:27-31]
On some level, the disciples knew what was coming
and what they would do. They just
couldn’t bear to admit it. Not to
Jesus. Not to the others. Not to themselves.
I
wonder if any of them caught that little throw-away line at that point:
“But after I am raised up, I will go before you
to Galilee.” [Mark 14:28]
It must have come back to somebody later. Or maybe not, because after the resurrection
Jesus would appear to them and tell them to go to Galilee and meet him. That means he was trying to tell them that he
wasn’t through with them. As far as he
was concerned, forgiveness was part of the deal. It has to be.
We cannot live without it.
An
old friend of mine, who has been through a lot in life and has a lot to
forgive, wrote to a group last week,
“I'm wondering about forgiveness. Sometimes depression stems from or is
worsened by trauma -- especially the kind of trauma when someone does something
bad to you or fails to do something for you that they're supposed to. Has
anyone here ever forgiven someone for something unforgivable? What did it
entail? How did it feel? Did it help?”
Those are not idle questions. Those would be worth asking Jesus. Has he ever forgiven the unforgiveable, like,
say, torture and a brutal execution?
What did it entail?
“Father, forgive them, for they know not what
they do?” [Luke 23:34]
How did it feel?
“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” [Mark 15:34]
Did it help?
“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to
you. I do not give to you as the world
gives. Do not let your hearts be
troubled, and do not let them be afraid.” [John 14:27]
There’s
no denying that forgiveness comes at a tremendous price. It comes with a cost to the giver and to the
receiver. Someone, at some point, has to
say, “Yes, I am ashamed to admit it, but I really am not the wonderful person I
want you to think I am. I have a lot
more in common with Peter, and even Judas, than I want to look at, and
sometimes I just cannot do that. I
understand how the rest of them, too, ran away.
That’s me at my best, even if I talk a good game.” And Jesus has to say, and Jesus does say,
“Yes. I know. If you were perfect, I wouldn’t have had to
let myself be broken for you. But I did
it anyway. And, so you don’t forget,
here is a reminder.”
[1]
http://www.patheos.com/blogs/thoughtfulpastor/2018/03/23/its-not-blood-its-betrayal-holy-week-reflections/#5vWEEaIKco5QqIgd.99
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