Friday, April 3, 2015

On The Matter of Judas Isacriot

Matthew (27:3-10)

When Judas, his betrayer, saw that he was condemned, he repented and brought back the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and the elders, saying, “I have sinned in betraying innocent blood.”  They said, “What is that to us?  See to it yourself.”  And throwing down the pieces of silver in the temple, he departed; and he went and hanged himself.

But the chief priests, taking the pieces of silver, said, “It is not lawful to put them into the treasury, since they are blood money.”  So they took counsel, and bought with them the potter’s field, to bury strangers in. Therefore, that field has been called the Field of Blood to this day. Then was fulfilled what had been spoken by the prophet Jeremiah, saying,  “And they took the thirty pieces of silver, the price of him on whom a price had been set by some of the son’s of Israel, and they gave them for the potter’s field, as the Lord directed me.”
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Imagine the scene in the chambers of the chief priests and elders.  Place yourself there.  Become a bystander or a servant.  Perhaps you are one of the elders or the doorkeeper.  Imagine yourself in that room.  Are the officials passing out cigars?  Are they slapping each other on the back because they got the conviction they wanted?  Are they relieved because this troublemaker,  this “King” of the Jews will no longer be a force to contend with?  Suddenly the door slams into the wall.  Judas Iscariot pushes his way past the doorkeeper and through the crowd. What does his face look like?  How does his voice sound as he blurts out, “I have sinned”?

What do you feel as you observe the scene?  Are you annoyed?  Are you confused? What’s going on?  Suddenly, the thirty pieces of silver hit the floor, clanking as they scatter. Judas flees.  He looks stricken.  Impulsively you follow him out.  You want to say something . . . anything. You follow him but he is moving fast.  You try to catch up but you have to rest and get your breath.  You start to move again. He can only go in one direction. You try to pick up your pace.  You need to catch up with him.  And then in the distance you see his silhouette.  He is standing on a small log. The rope is looped over the tree.  The noose is around his neck.  You try to scream . . . DON’T!  Before the scream escapes your lips he kicks away the log. It is over.

The sun is going down. The wind is picking up.  It’s getting cold. Judas’ body swings in the breeze.  Slowly you retrace your steps back into the town. The pathos in this Gospel passage is more than Judas betraying Jesus.  Peter also betrayed Jesus. The pathos is that, unlike Peter, Judas could not imagine being forgiven by the one against whom he had sinned.

We’ll never know what drove Judas to betray Jesus.  But we can wonder.  Was it the tempting sounds of  thirty pieces of silver jingling in the treasurer’s purse?  Some scholars suggest that Judas betrayed Jesus because he had become disillusioned with Him.  Like many others, even people today, Judas was expecting a political Messiah.  He wanted a Messiah who would lead the Jewish people out from the Roman occupation.  By turning him over to the authorities Judas may have been trying to force Jesus  to act like the revolutionary leader he wanted him to be.  No matter what Judas’ motives were, these verses from Matthew’s Gospel following the act of betrayal describe one of the great tragedies in scripture, the tragedy of despair. The tragedy of ceasing to believe in God. 

Judas betrayed Jesus.  Judas was, in his turn, betrayed by those who used him to get to Jesus.  Did Judas kill himself out of despair over having betrayed Jesus?  Or did he kill himself because he was angry that he himself was betrayed?   “What is that to us?  See to it yourself.”  Harsh words.  In the end it seems that two things drove Judas to suicide:  Anger at being a fool.  And despair upon realizing he had sinned.

A few years ago I found a battered book of daily meditations by an anonymous Jesuit that was translated from French into English in 1868.  A meditation based on this Gospel passage gives sound advice for today. It reads in part:  "Never let us count on help, sympathy, or respect, from those whom we have served against our own conscience and against the law of God."  In short: Never trust the untrustworthy.

Another meditation in the same book found a bit further along gets to the heart of Judas’ sin.  Judas’ belief  “that his crime was unpardonable was disbelief in God . . .”  When Judas believed his sin could not be forgiven he stopped believing in God. It was then that despair spiraled down and drove him to suicide.

Standard dictionaries define despair as loss of hope, hopelessness,  to give up, to be without hope.  In this narrative, however, despair has a more complex meaning.  One theological source defines despair as the voluntary and complete abandonment of all hope of saving one’s soul.  The voluntary abandonment of hope in salvation.  The intentional denial of the meaning of Jesus’ saving act.  That saving act we recall as we move through the liturgies of Holy Week.

Despair is not passive. Despair is a conscious choice.  The Sin of Despair is an act of the will.  It is an act that chooses to give up any hope of eternal life.  Despair whispers in our ear that God will not pardon our sins.  And we believe that whispered message.

That was Judas’ sin.  Believing that God would not pardon his sin.  We can only pray that that kind of despair never controls us, no matter what, no matter when, no matter why.  Yes, we are sinners.  But we are sinners loved by God.  We are sinners loved by God who pardons our sins when we acknowledge them, when we confess them, and when we seek pardon, while resolving to amend our lives. 

As we ponder the actions and death of Judas, as we stand speechless over his ultimate act of despair, we recall Jesus’ words on the cross.

“Father, forgive them
for they know not what they do.”

Judas was included in that forgiveness.  Or could have been included in that forgiveness.  It was too late. He never believed he could know God’s forgiveness and love.








Saturday, March 21, 2015

5th Sunday of Lent

Jer 31:31-34
Ps 51
Heb 5:7-9
Jn 12:20-33

We are rapidly moving toward the singular event in Jesus’ life.  We are moving toward the reason for the Incarnation that we celebrated three months ago.  Next Sunday we will hear the chilling introduction to the Gospel:  The Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ according to Mark.  Throughout the rest of Holy Week we will recall the most important event in the history of the world; we will recall the most important event for our lives;  we will move from the institution of the Eucharist, through another hearing of Our Lord’s Passion, to the long peculiar emptiness of Holy Saturday to the ecstatic joy of the Easter Vigil when we will hear again the forging of the Old Covenant and sing Alleluia, He is Risen,  in celebration of the New. 

The covenant God formed with His people was not, and is not, a pact between equals.  It was not, is not, and never will be a democracy.  God decided in freedom to grant His allegiance to Israel and dictated His own conditions.  We are free to accept or reject those conditions.  We are not free to negotiate them to suit our taste. God chose Israel without any merit on its part.  God has chosen us without any merit on our own parts.  Like Ancient Israel we are sinners.  But we are sinners loved by God.  God has given his love freely.  We can only respond with a love that translates itself into obedience to the conditions of that covenant.  We heard the how of that obedience in today’s Gospel.

In Jeremiah we heard a prophecy that the covenant would be reestablished.  The covenant had to be reestablished because the Israelites, by worshiping foreign gods, had violated the first covenant in a manner like the total betrayal when adultery violates the marriage covenant.  The difference is that the new covenant won’t be inscribed on stone.  It will be inscribed on the human heart.  And that new covenant inscribed on the human heart will change it.  It will change it unless that heart chooses to reject the covenant and become stone.

The reading from Hebrews reminds us that Jesus, fully divine and fully human, was acquainted with the trials and suffering of our nature.  Next Sunday we will recall Jesus’ fear.  Three times he prayed, “Abba . . . take this cup away from me.”  And three times he offered his obedience, “But not what I will but what you will.”  

After his exaltation Jesus no longer knows weakness.  But, having experienced weakness: fear of death, fear of pain, fear of dying,  and the sorrow of abandonment, he knows our fear of death, dying, pain and abandonment.   Truly God.  Yes.  And truly human, like us in all things but sin. 

John’s Gospel picks up as Jesus approached the final days of His life on earth.  The next chapter begins with the words,  “Now before the feast of the Passover, when Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart out of this world to the Father . . . . “ 

Jesus is giving his final instructions to his followers.  In this instruction we hear the how of our obedience.  In the Revised Standard Edition translation one hears:  “If any one serves me he must follow me; and where I am, there shall my servant be also; if anyone serves me, the Father will honor him."  Confessing Jesus, believing in Him as Son of God, as Revealer of the Father, and Messiah is not an intellectual or mental exercise. Faith in Jesus is not something to pull out when convenient, or just for holidays. It is not something one can store on a shelf.

Back around 1996 Fr. John, the Franciscan chaplain at Dartmouth College, preached a challenging and squirm-inducing homily at the heavily attended 11 AM Mass.   While leaving Mass I overheard a young woman telling a classmate in response to Father's challenge, “I don’t want my religion to influence my political and economic decisions.”   The absurdity of that comment is right up there with, “I’m very spiritual but not at all religious.”  Those who claim to serve the Lord must follow Him in the service of His Father. They do that by the totality of their obedience to the Father and in their love for one another. 

Jesus’ words: “where I am, there shall my servant be also” radically alter our understanding of death.  Prior to Jesus' act of obedience, death was a descent into Sheol, the dank and dismal habitation of the dead.  Henceforth, the death of those who serve and follow the Lord is an ascent to the Father where the Son also is.  Thus we can say with the psalmist in today’s responsorial, the great Miserere

"A clean heart create for me, O God,
and a steadfast spirit renew within me. . . .

Give me back the joy of your salvation, 
and a willing spirit sustain in me.
I will teach transgressors your ways,
and sinners shall return to you."
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Today is the first full day of spring.  It has been a very long winter.  We got an additional inch  or so of snow this AM.  Very wet but very little.  Temps going up.  Roads no problem.  Mass this afternoon and again in the AM.  One question preoccupies me.  Where have all the flowers gone?  The secondary question is whether or not they will ever return.  The attached photos without commentary were taken in a variety of places both in and out of the U.S.  












+Fr. Jack, SJ, MD

Thursday, March 12, 2015

3rd Friday of Lent

Mk 12:28-34

“Hear O Israel
The Lord our God
is Lord alone!”

Thus begins Jesus’ reply to the scribe.  It is a direct quote from Deuteronomy of what came to be known as the shema.  As a prayer, the Shema became central to Judaism beginning in the late Second Temple period.  Even today devout Jewish men are required to recite this prayer twice daily. The Shema is held in the mezuzah which Jews place on the doorpost of their homes. 

Unfortunately, Catholics only hear these words proclaimed more fully in the reading from Deuteronomy at Mass every other year on the 18th Saturday of ordinary time.  This is generally not a heavily attended Mass in most parishes. Fortunately, we encounter the shema weekly in Night Prayer after Evening Prayer I on Sundays in the breviary. 

From his reply here we recall that Jesus did not abolish the ten commandments.  He perfected them.   He placed them in the context of love; love for God love for one’s neighbor. Jesus shifted the focus of religious observance from the multiple laws governing diet, work and other minutiae of life, to love for God and neighbor. 

One of the early rabbinic sages described these two commandments as containing all of the Torah with the rest serving as commentary.  It is a good thought to keep in mind.  Two commandments as opposed to six hundred plus laws?  Sounds simpler on the surface.  But, as is true of much of what Jesus taught, apparent simplification is, in the end, considerably more complex and difficult. 

“Hear O Israel, The Lord our God is Lord alone!  You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart with all your soul, with all your mind and will all your strength.” 


Nothing else is needed for meditation.
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Heading to Bethlehem, CT on Saturday into Sunday.  Am going to be the celebrant for the entire Triduum.  As it will in Latin with large amounts of chant, this trip is to pick up the chants and rubrics necessary for the complicated liturgy.  

Photos are all black and white.  All of them were taken at one of three monasteries,Abbey of  Regina Laudis, St. Joseph Abbey, and St. Vincent Archabbey.  

Regina Laudis is a seriously active farm.  The tractor is sitting in a barn awaiting its next job.

The monastic choir at Regina Laudis.  The sun was dramatic.

A still life in the men's guest house at Regina Laudis. 

Small chapel at St. Vincent Archabbey for adoration in AM.

The graveyard at St. Vincent.  The archabbey was established over two hundred years ago. Many long rows of identical crosses marking the grave.  

St. Joseph Abbey graveyard from the cottage. 

One of the libraries at St. Joseph Abbey.

The monastic choir at St. Joseph.

My favorite.  I did my final vow retreat at St. Joseph.  With two days left in the eight day retreat it was time to write out three copies of each of the two sets of vows that a Jesuit pronounces.  The paper with holes are practice sheets.  Everything had to fit within the lines and on one page.  No problem for the public vows but a real challenge with the five "simple vows" that I pronounced in the sacristy after Mass with eight Jesuits present, including George.  Fr. General and I both signed them, a total of six signatures each.  

Fr. Jack, SJ, MD