The Trouble with Judas
John 17:6-19 and Acts 1:12-26
May 3, 2009

          There is something troubling about Judas.  And I am not referring simply to the character of Judas Iscariot in the gospels.  Rather, the very name itself—Judas—carries with it a weight that few other names possess.  Rarely, if ever, is the name spoken with boldness.  More often than not the name “Judas” only barely escapes our lips with anything more than a whisper.  Judas.  Judas.   That last “s” seems to hold on just long enough for us to hear a slight hisssss.  Judasss.  Like the serpent in the Garden of Eden, Judas is forever doomed in our minds as the hiss of betrayal.

          Go home after this service today and search the Internet for modern day people named Judas, and it will be in vain.  Jude, yes.  Judah, yes.  Judas, absolutely not.   Even though these three names—Jude, Judah and Judas—are spelled exactly the same way in Greek.  The Book of Jude can correctly be translated as the Book of Judas, but, for whatever reason, this is not the path biblical translators take.

          The word “Judas” derives from the Hebrew word “yehudah” which means “praise.”  Yet modern day definitions differ dramatically from historical ones.  Judas today simply means “betrayer” for most of us.  Perhaps the only subculture in the world today that has latched onto the name “Judas” is the heavy metal genre of music with bands named Metallica, Stratovarius, Iron Maiden, Judas Iscariot, and Judas Priest taking the name of Judas either in song title or band name. 

          Other modern day uses of Judas in song almost always refer to betrayal or describe an individual or a group as the scum of society; songs by the rapper Ja Rule and singers Kelly Clarkson and Bob Dylan have Judas characters that relate in someway to betrayal or mischievous activities.

To be called “Judas” is to be placed among the dregs of society.  As one anonymous person on the Internet said, “I am an agnostic/atheist and even I wouldn’t consider giving my son that name.”

          The name “Judas” holds great power.  But a name is just a name and the important questions of faith stem not from the name Judas but from his life and actions.  And at the heart of the dilemma of Judas is a simple yet powerful question: Do people who do bad things deserve violent retribution?  Is the violence in Judas’ horrific death or even the use of violence at anytime in our world, ever justified?

          There is an idea first put forward by theologian Walter Wink called the “Myth of Redemptive Violence” that can be helpful for us today.        Wink states that ever since the beginnings of literature and life among humanity, there has been a belief that violence can be redemptive.  This is seen prolifically in television shows, in movies, in magazines, on the Internet, in newspapers.  Its main archetype is played out with “good guys” and “bad guys.”  The “bad guys” commit all sorts of atrocities, and then the “good guys” come along and “correct” the situation by committing atrocities of their own.  The “good guys,” however, can kill and torture and maim and harm, but it is not considered evil.  In fact, it is frequently seen as good.

          In Harry Potter, viewers like us cheer when Lord Voldemort is struck down yet again.  In action movies like Die Hard, Indiana Jones, and Star Wars, our emotions can’t help but feel at least a bit of glee when “terrorists,” “soldiers” or general “bad men” get what’s coming to them. Guns point, people shoot, spells are cast and people suffer and die; and we, the audience, celebrate the victory of good over evil.

Simple expressions in our language also hint at the prominence of redemptive violence in our culture: “What goes around comes around,” we might say, or “It’s karma” or maybe, “They brought this on themselves.”

           The trouble is life and faith are more complicated that these simplistic explanations.  There is no one in our world today that is all good or all evil.   And there is no mysterious force that karma-izes our lives.  Good and bad people do good and bad things.  Let us not forget that Judas is not the only betrayer in the Gospels.  Peter also betrayed Jesus with lying and deceit.  This hints at one of the fundamentals of our Presbyterian Reformed faith—everybody on this earth has made poor choices at times, everyone has sinned and everyone needs redemption.  But redemption does not come through violence.  Redemptive violence is purely a myth. On the contrary, it is in the grace and love of Jesus where true redemption is found.

          The world and our culture may tell us that violence can serve the common good, but does our Christian faith not tell us that violence is never good or acceptable?  Indeed it is contrary to the ways of Jesus who, in our passage today, tells us not to live according to the ways of the world.  As Christians, we are to live our lives in obedience to faith, countering the power of violence with the law of love.

The power of redemptive violence in our culture has lately been on full display in the public debate of torture and what constitutes torture.  I hope you have heard and read by now the Pew Forum’s report on views of torture in the United States.  For those of you unfamiliar, a poll was released a few weeks back that showed that the more a person goes to church, the more likely they support the use of torture.  Among those who went to church every week, 73% supported the use of torture in at least some circumstances.  The less often people went to church, the less likely they were to support the use of torture.

          While the issue of torture is frequently framed in a politically partisan way, for Christians like us, it is an issue of faith not politics, and faith is intended to override all other concerns and loyalties.  The purpose of faith is to lead and guide us through the troubles of life and it is in moments like the present when faith should inform our ideas and guide our thoughts.

          In a way, the discussion of torture and violence goes all the way back to the life and death of Judas and the view of whether the violent death of Judas is justified, or even beneficial.  For many who read the Gospel with the world’s values in mind, it might seem fitting that Judas, who betrayed his mentor, friend, and savior Jesus, died a violent death. 

          However, in the gospels there is no indication that the death of Judas is redemptive in any way.  Jesus himself says he tried to guard Judas from the temptations of the evil one, but could not.  And even though the death of Judas fulfills a part of scripture from the Psalms, no one rejoices at his death.  The violence of Judas’ death is simply a tragedy.

          And nowhere in the Gospels or in the life and teachings of Jesus, or the letters of Paul, is violence ever seen as good.  It is a part of our world, yes, but a part of our world that we should resist at all costs.  Why else would Jesus tell us to love our enemies and to bless those who persecute us?  Many of Jesus’ statements are enigmatic and hard to understand.  But his statements against violence and in favor of peace are as clear as they come.

          Perhaps what the death of Judas is intended to teach us is only that violence begets more violence.  Judas’ violent betrayal, led to Jesus’ violent death and Judas’ own violent downfall.  And as Christians we should always be saddened when people, such as Judas, choose the ways of the world, over the ways of faith.

          Part of the trouble with Judas is that for all we know about him in the Gospels, he was a passionate follower of Jesus for three years.  We forget that Judas was with the disciples when they cured the sick, raised the dead, cleansed the lepers, and cast out demons (Matthew 13:8).  But it is easy to look past those first three years and focus only on the evil he committed.  Perhaps it is easier to understand his betrayal if we see him as purely bad, because we can then see his violent death as a just action against a bad man. 

          There is a quotation from Russian writer Alexandr Solzhenitzyn that I would like to share with you.  Solzhenitzyn was imprisoned for eight years during the reign of Joseph Stalin in the Russian prison system known as the Gulag.  After seeing average, ordinary people committing acts of violence and hatred daily, he wrote these words:

“If only there were evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds, and it were necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being.

          If “the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being” it cut through Judas’ just as it cuts through ours.  And maybe this is what makes us whisper the name of Judas, when we choose to say it at all.  Each one of us has the potential, like Judas, to choose paths that lead to violence.  But alternatively we also have the ability to choose paths that spurn violence and lead to goodness.

          And if Judas is like anyone of us, then it should be hard for us to see his death as redemptive.  Just as we should not rejoice when we see and experience violence in our own lives or in the lives of others, we should not rejoice or be satisfied with the violent end of Judas’ life.  Yes, Judas died a death that paralleled his violent act of betrayal of Jesus.  But Judas’ death did not redeem his poor actions.  Death is death.  Violence is violence.  The death of Jesus was a horrible act of violence and a miscarriage of justice.  The death of Judas was likewise filled with violence and horror.

          The trouble with Judas is that his violent end is a temptation for us to accept violence as appropriate, even necessary in some circumstances.  But our faith should always guard against this.  Remember it was Jesus who guarded his own disciples, even Judas, the one he knew would betray him, from the temptations of the world.  Whether it is on television, the Internet, in newspapers, in pop culture, in politics, or in our own relationships with family and friends we are to always guard against the temptations of the world that replace peace with violence and hope with despair.  Perhaps the words of St. Francis of Assisi will be helpful for us this morning.

“Lord, make me an instrument of your peace;
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
when there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.”

 

Amen.


For a list of band and song names using the name “Judas” see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Judas

Walter Wink, The Powers That Be: A Theology for a New Millennium, New York: Doubleday, 1999.

As quoted on http://pewforum.org/docs/?DocID=156, May 18, 2009.