Wednesday of Holy Week
Dante the Pilgrim and Virgil the Guide stand in awe of Satan frozen in hell. He has three faces. One “fiery red” and the other two – “weirdly wonderful” – a sickly yellow and a pale bronze. “In every mouth [Satan] worked a broken sinner/between his rake-like teeth. Thus he kept three/in eternal pain at his eternal dinner.” Brutus, Cassius, and “[t]hat soul that suffers most” – Judas Iscariot – “he who kicks his legs/on the fiery chin and has his head inside.” Why is Judas eternally chewed in Satan's fiery mouth? Because he asked the Chief Priest, “What are you willing to give me if I hand [Jesus] over to you?” He accepted 30 silver pieces – the price of a murdered slave – to betray his friend and teacher. No doubt we would say that Judas had it coming. No doubt we would say that his betrayal deserves to be immortalized in verse by Italy's greatest poet. And no doubt we would say, if suspicion fell on us, “Surely, not me, Lord!” Before we wag our finger at Judas and his traitorous nature, we should think long and hard about what it takes to betray Christ. Or rather, what we'd take to betray him.
Judas' betrayal is a straight up snitch operation. Coin in exchange for information. Dirty, yes, but also a tidy quid pro quo. And don't forget that he regrets his crime, repents, returns the coin, and, finally, offs himself. The tidy treason turned messy in the end. Can we claim that we would never, have never betrayed Christ? If not, can we say that our betrayals have been so commercial, so obviously mercenary? I doubt it. Judas had three years with Christ. We've had our whole lives. Judas had vague promises of a future kingdom. We've had centuries of a kingdom growing and flourishing. Judas had his instincts, his heritage, and a shallow understanding of sacrificial love. We've had two millennia of Church teaching, philosophy and theology, biblical scholarship, mystical and ascetical experience, and the lives of the saints. Not to mention our own encounters with the Christ in the sacraments. None of this excuses Judas. But it does implicate us. It makes our betrayals – even if infrequent – all the more damning. Judas may have known better. But we know best. He is an anti-example for our lives in holiness. One we can point to and say, “Not me, Lord!” Listen carefully and you'll hear Jesus respond, “If you say so.” Go into this Holy Week with your heart and mind wide open to the ways you've betrayed Christ. Not in fear. Not in shame. But with an eagerness to repent and return the coin you've taken. God's mercy is eternal. And Satan's teeth never dull.
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