Homily: Tuesday of Holy Week

Readings: Is 49:1-6; Ps 71:1-2, 3-4a, 5ab-6ab, 15 and 17; Jn 13:21-33, 36-38

A few years ago, I read a remarkable novel by Gene Wolfe about a soldier, a mercenary who fought for the Persians during the Greek-Persian Wars in the fifth century before Christ. 

What made it so interesting is that our hero suffered a head wound that left him with almost no short-term memory. By the end of each day, he’d forgotten everything that happened the day before. And so he kept a diary on a scroll, keeping track of people, events, conversations. Each day he read the scroll, or at least parts of it.

But it really didn’t help him very much, because so much of life is defined by relationships with others. For him, all others were strangers, even those who’d normally be considered close friends. Eventually he saw his affliction as a kind of blessing, and memory as a kind of curse. Lacking memory all became new and interesting. Like a child, he appreciated the world as it unfolded before his eyes.

Anyway, I couldn’t help but think of this book as I reread John’s Gospel the other day. We’ve heard or read the Gospel story so often that the wonder of it all can be lost. Thanks to our memories, we know what will happen next, and this can cause us to ignore that which is most meaningful. This time, as I read John, I tried to read it as if for the first time, as if I were one of the disciples, living these events without the benefit of hindsight.

What struck me was how reasonable the disciples seemed in their on-again, off-again belief. Before I’d always been exasperated with them and found myself saying, “Oh, c’mon guys, how stupid can you be? Haven’t you figured out who Jesus is?” But now, I could even empathize with the Pharisees.

I found myself viewing the Gospel from a human point of view, a perspective that also caused me to see both Peter and Judas differently. Both men were put to the test, weren’t they? And both failed miserably.

Judas Departs

And yet, when we look at them, we can’t help but notice the difference. Judas deliberately betrayed his Master. We can’t fully grasp his motives, but from all indications it was a cold and calculated act. 

But Peter…Peter acted impulsively, out of human weakness and cowardice. He neither intended, nor expected to do what he did. And in a moment of weakness, Peter’s bravado crumbled. He denied His Lord with an oath and a curse.

Peter's Betrayal

Peter seems to be one of those guileless people whose words mirrored his thoughts, who always spoke with his heart, even though he would ultimately betray those words because of a weak will. Peter vows to die for Jesus. It’s a vow he will break that very night, but one he will ultimately keep, years later.

But Judas…he makes no vow that night, but in his treachery, he brings about Jesus' death, a death that redeems us. John tells us Satan entered into Judas when he rejected Jesus and departed to complete his deadly errand.

That’s what Satan can do, brothers and sisters, but only if we let him. He can twist love and turn it into hate. He can turn holiness into pride, discipline into cruelty, affection into complacency, trust into despair.

Peter, though, even in his sinfulness, rejected Satan and continued to trust in Jesus. He continued to trust in our loving, forgiving God. While Judas, in his sinfulness, fell into despair, a despair that denies forgiveness, a despair that denies love, a despair that rips any vestige of hope from the heart.

Brothers and sisters, we know we’re all sinners. We all betrayers of sorts. But I like to think you and I are more like Peter, sinners who still love the Lord, and who never forget how much He loves us, and how willing He is to forgive us, again and again.

Homily: Wednesday of Holy Week

Readings Is 50:4-9a; Ps 69; Mt 26:14-25

Have you ever been betrayed? Betrayal’s a horrible, destructive thing, isn’t it? It hits at the very core of our humanity, and jeopardizes those essential relationships based on trust and love.

And yet look how Jesus handled betrayal. Even though He was fully aware of Judas’ plans, He invited His betrayer to recline and dine with Him. And He questions Judas as if He were trying to force him to admit what he planned. Would this lead Judas to confront his sin and be repelled by its inherent evil? We simply don’t know. And neither do we know why Judas betrayed Jesus. Was it greed, impatience, disillusionment, even hatred? We don’t know for certain. But whatever the reason, it all boiled down to Judas being unable to accept Jesus as He is.

Notice how Judas responded to Jesus. He called Him, “Rabbi,” while the apostles, each in turn, called Jesus, “Lord.” What a difference! Sin is so much easier when we distort and limit our understanding of who Jesus is. This is our great temptation as Christians: to create a Jesus in our own image.

It’s easy to do. Just look in the mirror and say, “Hi, Jesus!” And then, whatever I do or say, well…that’s not me. That’s Jesus talking, that’s God talking. It sure makes things easier when we need only look to ourselves for all the answers.

In Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov, one of the brothers, Ivan, is visited by Satan who persuades him that with the death of God “everything is permitted.” The devil isn’t suggesting here that the world will slide into the chaos of anarchy – not at all – for the world can be very “civilized” while still believing in nothing.

No Satan means that once we eliminate God from our lives, from our society, from our civilization, then nothing is absolute, nothing is always wrong. Once we remove God from the picture, we fall prey to what Pope Benedict calls “the dictatorship of relativism” under which the clear distinctions between what is morally right and wrong dissolve into a kind of amoral putty that we can form into whatever shape we like.

Yes, once we believe that God is no longer in charge…well, someone has to take control. And that’s when men try to usurp God’s responsibilities for defining the moral order. Once we do that, we need only reshape the putty, forming acceptable reasons to do and to believe absolutely anything.

This, I suspect, was Judas’ sin. He wanted Jesus to change; he wanted God, the unchangeable One, to reshape Himself to become just like Judas. But, of course, Jesus isn’t about to change, for His entire mission is the fulfillment of the Father’s will, the Father’s plan.

Like Satan, Judas saw Jesus’ ministry as a failure, and decided that he would have to take charge. But poor Judas, and those among us today who are like him, have it all backwards; for it’s not God who must change; it’s we who must let ourselves be changed by Him.

As we enter this holiest time of our liturgical year, let’s make that our prayer, to allow ourselves to be changed by God’s love, by the Good News of His Son’s redemptive act. For when we abandon ourselves to God’s holy will, He will send His Spirit to lead us and guide us, to deliver us from evil, the evil of betrayal that we call sin.

Homily: Wednesday of Holy Week

Readings Is 50:4-9a; Ps 69; Mt 26:14-25

John Anthony Walker – You might not remember the name, but in 1985 he was arrested by the FBI. His crime? For almost 20 years he spied for the Soviet Union. Walker was a chief warrant office in the US Navy, a communications officer who had access to some of our military’s most classified information. And he gave it all to the Soviets, over a million documents.

I didn’t know him, but a close friend of mine did. In fact, they worked together for two years. When Walker was arrested my friend was flabbergasted. “I didn’t like the man,” he told me later, “but I never imaged he’d betray his country. Almost as bad was the sense of personal betrayal I felt.”

Betrayal really is a horrible thing, isn’t it? It’s so destructive. It hits at the very core of our humanity, where we establish and maintain those essential relationships based on trust and love. For one who’s been betrayed, it can undermine their willingness or ability to trust others.

And yet look how Jesus handled betrayal. Even though He knew Judas’s plans, He invited His betrayer to recline and dine with Him. It’s as if He were trying to prevent Judas’ betrayal by questioning him and forcing him to admit what he planned to do.

Was Jesus hoping that Judas, by openly admitting what he intended to do, would confront it and be repelled by its inherent evil? After all, Jesus certainly did much to win Peter back after his three-time denial. Wouldn’t He have tried to do the same for Judas?

We really don’t know why Judas betrayed Jesus. Was it greed, disillusionment, hatred, impatience? We don’t know. But whatever the reason, it all boiled down to Judas being unable to accept Jesus as He is.

Notice how Judas responded to Jesus. He called Him, “Rabbi,” while the apostles, each in turn, called Jesus, “Lord.” And that’s the difference! Sin is so much easier when we distort and limit our understanding of who Jesus is. Unable to accept the real Jesus, Judas leaves to carry out his betrayal.

This is the Christian’s great temptation: to create a Jesus in our own image. It’s easy to do. Just look in the mirror and say, “Hi, Jesus!” And from then on, whatever I do, or think, or say, well…that’s not me, that’s Jesus talking, that’s God talking. It sure makes things a lot easier when we need only look to ourselves for all the answers.

This, I suspect, was Judas’ sin. He wanted Jesus to change, to be like him. He wanted to use God for his own purposes. But poor Judas got it all backwards -- for it’s not God who must change; it’s we who must let ourselves be changed by Him.

As we enter this holiest time of our liturgical year, let’s make that our prayer, to allow ourselves to be changed by God’s love, by the Good News of His Son’s redemptive act. For when we abandon ourselves to God’s holy will, He will send His Spirit to lead us and guide us, to deliver us from evil, the evil of betrayal that we call sin.