It is one of the mysteries in the life of our Lord that he was led
by the immediate direction of the Father to incorporate into his
little family, and to bring into the closest personal relations with
himself, an unsympathetic and adverse element that must have been a
source of continual pain to him.
It was after a whole night spent in prayer for the divine direction
that the first twelve Apostles were chosen; and Judas also was
one of them. The history of this man is a wonder and a warning.
That there could possibly be a human being who could have such
advantages, could rise to such a height of spiritual power and joy,
and yet in the end prove to be utterly without any true spiritual
life seems fearful.
It would appear that Judas had at first a sort of worldly enthusiasm
for Christ and his kingdom; that he received the divine gift of
miracle-working; that he went forth preaching and healing, and felt
all the exultation and joy which the sense of spiritual power and
influence gives. Judas was among those who returned from the first
missionary tour in triumph, saying, "Lord, even the devils were
subject unto us!" The grave answer of Jesus reminded them that it
was of far more importance to be really accepted of God as true
Christians than to have the most brilliant gifts and powers.
In our Lord's first Sermon on the Mount, which may be considered as
an ordaining charge to his Apostles, he had said to them that in
the great final day of Judgment there would be many who would say
unto him, "Lord, have we not prophesied in thy name, and in thy name
cast out devils, and in thy name done many wonderful works? and then
will I say to them, I never knew you; depart from me, ye that work
iniquity." Everywhere in the New Testament these miraculous powers
are spoken of as something of far less value than the true Christian
spirit, and, if we may trust the word of our Master, many had them
whom he will never acknowledge for his own.
But the warning fell on the ear of Judas unheeded. Perhaps he did
not himself know how selfish and self-seeking was his zeal for
the coming kingdom. Generally speaking, the first person deceived
by a man who plays a false part is himself. Judas appears not to
have excited the suspicions of the little company of brethren.
His shrewdness and tact in managing financial matters led them to
appoint him the treasurer of the common family purse. Without doubt,
what he saw of the enthusiastic love which Jesus excited, the ease
with which he could make people willing to lay their fortunes at his
feet, opened to his view dazzling golden visions. He saw himself
treasurer of a kingdom unequaled in splendor and riches, when all
the kingdoms of the world should be subject to his master. It was
more than the reign of Solomon, when gold was to be as the stones of
the street.
If we notice our Lord's teachings delivered in the hearing of Judas,
we must be struck with the explicit and forcible manner in which he
constantly pointed out the danger of the worldly spirit which was
growing upon that disciple. How solemn the picture of the rich man,
absorbed in plans and calculations how to bestow his great wealth
until God says to him, "Thou fool! this night shall thy soul be
required of thee--then whose shall those things be that thou hast
provided?" "So," he adds, "is every one that layeth up riches, and
is not rich towards God." Again, he tells them that it is easier for
a camel to go through a needle's eye than for a rich man to enter
into the kingdom of God. He asks them, What shall it profit a man if
he gain the whole world and lose his own soul?
We hear nothing of any replies that Judas makes to these teachings.
He seldom is represented dramatically. Peter, James, John, and
Thomas, all present themselves vividly to our mind by the things
that they say; but Judas is silent. The Master, who knew him so
well, did not expose him to the others. He did not lessen their
brotherly regard or interrupt the peace of his little family by
any effort at expulsion. As his Father had chosen this member to
be in intimate nearness to himself, Jesus accepted him, bore with
him, loved him, and treated him to the last with the same unvarying
sweetness that he showed to the more congenial natures. It is
affecting to remember that the very act by which Christ was betrayed
was one that showed that all the external habits of affection
remained still unbroken between him and the traitor. The kiss of
Jesus was sincere; he loved this wretched man as heavenly beings
love, and followed him with love to the last.
It would seem that towards the last part of the life of Jesus the
moral antagonism between himself and Judas grew more pronounced and
intense.
As the spiritual life of Jesus waxed brighter and stronger, so much
the more vivid became the contrast between it and the worldly aims
of the traitor. Judas saw the kind of worldly prosperity to which
he had aspired receding. He saw that Jesus, instead of using his
splendid miraculous powers to draw towards him the chiefs of his
nation, was becoming every day more in antagonism with them. Instead
of meeting the popular desire to make him a king he had drawn back
from it, and by that very act lost many followers. His extreme
spiritual teachings had disgusted many of his disciples and led them
to go back and walk no more with him. And now the talk of Jesus was
more and more of persecutions and sufferings and death, as lying
just before him. To a worldly eye all this looked like a fanatical
throwing away of the very brightest opportunity for fame and fortune
and dominion that ever was given to a leader. Judas became sullenly
discontented, not yet ready openly to throw off all hopes of what
might be got by adhering to his Master, but yet in a critical and
fault-finding spirit surveying all his actions.
It is an awful thought that it was possible for a man to share the
daily bread of Jesus, to be in his family, treated as a beloved
child, to hear all his beautiful words, to listen to his prayers
day after day, and yet, instead of melting, to grow colder and
harder--to grow more earthly as his Master grew more heavenly, and
to find this want of sympathy slowly hardening into a sullen enmity
which only waited its hour to declare itself openly. Christ said to
the unbelieving Jews, "Ye have both seen and hated both Me and my
Father." Judas was fast preparing to join that party.
According to the narrative of St. Matthew, it was after this rebuke
in the matter of Mary that Judas went into negotiations with those
who were plotting the destruction of Jesus. He was a disappointed
man. He had joined a party which he confidently expected to lead to
triumph, success, and wealth. Instead of this, Jesus had lost every
opportunity, lost the favorable hour of popularity, and concentrated
on himself the hatred of the most powerful men of the nation, and
now was talking only of defeat and rejection.
The presence of Judas with the household was now that of a spy,
watching his occasion, but making no outward demonstration. He was
in the little family circle that gathered in the upper room to eat
the last passover supper. His Master bent at his feet and washed
them, as he did those of the faithful ones, in that sacramental
action when he showed them what he meant by true love. It was
directly after this last act of affection that Jesus openly declared
his knowledge of the meditated treachery, for he said: "I speak not
of you all, I know whom I have chosen; but the Scripture must be
fulfilled which saith, He that eateth bread with me hath lifted up
his heel against me." Then with a deep sigh he adds in plain words,
"Verily, verily, I say unto you, one of _you_ shall betray me."
It is a most lovely comment on the goodness of heart of these simple
men that in so solemn a moment no one of them thought of criminating
the other. Each one said tremblingly, "Lord, is it I?"
John, leaning down on his Master's breast, inquired privately who it
was; and Jesus gave him a private sign that it should be he to whom
he gave a sop when he had dipped it. He dipped the sop, and gave it
to Judas. Then Judas, still keeping up the show of innocence, said,
like the rest, "Master, is it I?" Jesus answered, "Thou hast said
it."
It is said that "Satan entered into him" at this moment. All the
smouldering elements of meanness, disgust, dislike of Jesus, his
teaching, his spirit, and his mission were quickened by the presence
of that invisible enemy who comes to the heart of man only when he
is _called_ by the congenial indulgence of wicked passions.
Judas rose hastily, and our Lord added, "That thou doest, do
quickly." He flung himself out and was gone.
The miserable sum for which he sold his Master, though
inconsiderable in itself, was probably offered as first wages in a
new service. His new masters were the heads of Israel: all avenues
of patronage and power were in their hands, and the fortune that
he could not make on the side of Jesus he might hope to gather on
that of his enemies. He may have compounded with his conscience by
believing that the miraculous power of our Lord was such that there
was no danger of a fatal termination. In fact, that his being taken
might force him to declare himself and bring on the triumphant
moment of victory. He might possibly have said to himself that he
was at any rate acting the part of a mediator in bringing matters to
a crisis, and perhaps forcing a favorable result. For, when he found
that Jesus was indeed a victim, he was overwhelmed with remorse and
despair. He threw the wretched money at the feet of his tempters and
departed and hanged himself, and went, as we are told, "to his own
place."
He went to the place for which _he_ had fitted himself, who, living
in the very bosom of Jesus, had grown more and more unlike him every
day. He left Christ--driven by no force but his own wicked will. To
the last the love of God pursued him: his Master knelt and washed
the very feet that were so soon to hasten to betray him. It was with
a sorrowful spirit, a troubled heart, that Jesus said, "Woe unto
that man by whom the Son of man is betrayed: good were it for that
man if he never had been born."
Without attempting to solve the mysteries of this deepest of all
tragedies, we may yet see some of the uses and purposes of it in
regard to ourselves.
Our Lord was appointed to suffer in all respects as his brethren;
and the suffering of bearing with antagonistic and uncongenial
natures is one that the providence of God often imposes on us. There
are often bound to us, in the closest intimacy of social or family
ties, natures hard and ungenial, with whom sympathy is impossible,
and whose daily presence necessitates a constant conflict with an
adverse influence. There are, too, enemies--open or secret--whose
enmity we may feel yet cannot define. Our Lord, going before us in
this hard way, showed us how we should walk.
It will be appropriate to the solemn self-examination of the period
of Lent to ask ourselves, Is there any false friend or covert
enemy whom we must learn to tolerate, to forbear with, to pity and
forgive? Can we in silent offices of love wash their feet as our
Master washed the feet of Judas? And if we have no real enemies,
are there any bound to us in the relations of life whose habits and
ways are annoying and distasteful to us? Can we bear with them in
love? Can we avoid harsh judgments, and harsh speech, and the making
known to others our annoyance? Could we through storms of obloquy
and evil report keep calmly on in duty, unruffled in love, and
commending ourselves to the judgment of God? The examination will
probably teach us to feel the infinite distance between us and our
divine Ideal, and change censoriousness of others into prayer for
ourselves.