Judas Iscariot (1) – Betrayal

The Story of Judas Iscariot“You’ve given me the confidence to feel I can go out with someone else,” she told me on Valentine’s Day. Nearly 40 years on (and after over 30 with my wife) I can laugh at the back-handed compliment from a former girlfriend as she left me for another man. But at the time it felt like betrayal.

Please read Luke 22:4-6 & Luke 22:47-48

Judas has always had a bad press. Always the last of the Twelve to be mentioned. Often portrayed wearing black. His name used to denounce others. A victim, then? Maybe, but partly of his own making. Vulnerable to the rich and powerful? Pretty much undoubtedly.

Betrayal. Often deliberate. Always hurtful. Sometimes breaking confidence or trust. The object of the betrayal may be a specific person (such as Jesus) or towards a cause (as when Judas showed the chief priests where they could find him). It happens in times of war (and peace, for that matter) or by betraying a nation. It happens in workplaces and churches. And potentially most hurtfully in personal relationships. Being betrayed is a very painful loss. A loss of trust. And often the loss of a person we once trusted.

Judas also betrayed himself, though. Maybe he did it for the money and because he thought it would help him to be part of the ‘in-crowd’. To feel accepted and lauded as the one who dealt with a troublemaker. He sniffed fame and fortune and it smelt good. But he soon felt the consequences and it cost him his life.

We too can betray ourselves. We can make choices and decisions because we think that’s what others want us to do rather than staying true to ourselves or listening to God. We might live to the false self we portray to others because we want to feel accepted: or to fulfil an inbuilt need to know we are ‘as good as’ other people.

The desire for such acceptance, while quite natural (and important) can sometimes be at the price of who we really are – and at the cost of who God wants us to be. It can be at the loss of our true self. The loss of who we are as a person made in God’s image.

In fact, it takes a lot less effort simply to be oneself than to try to be like someone else. To just be the person who we are. If we can focus on being ourself – our true self – then we can be more fully equipped to address (and, as necessary, to change) the parts which make us feel we are ‘not acceptable’.

‘You shall love your neighbour as yourself.’ Jesus described those words as one of the greatest commandments.

Probably most people feel comfortable with the ‘love your neighbour’ bit. “Yep, I can do that. That bit’s OK.” It will be difficult to love those who have betrayed us, of course, and we can probably accept that there will always be some people we don’t like that much or get on with. But, pretty much, the act of loving our neighbour (however one chooses to define that word) can often be fairly straightforward and comparatively easy to do, especially if we have some choice about the friends we keep or do not keep, for example.

But what about ‘as yourself’? To love ourself in the same way as we love our neighbour? So many people find it difficult to love themselves.

The Gospel writers only tell us the bad bits about Judas. We don’t have a balanced view of him. Loving ourselves involves having a balanced view. For many people, for a lot of the time, the focus can be on the bad bits. The mistakes. The wrong words. The difficult memories. The hurts. The times when we got it wrong. The times when we felt betrayed.

But there are also good bits. True, sometimes it’s more difficult to focus on them but they are there. The things we got right. The successes (they don’t have to be huge and noticeable). The compliments we receive (even when we struggle to accept they might be true). Recognising our good bits is not about boastfulness (or the fear that doing so is somehow ‘sinful’). Knowing our good bits is about recognising and acknowledging that which God in his grace has given us and made good within us.

Knowing our good bits and having a balanced view of ourselves is crucial towards knowing our true self and loving ourselves. And by loving ourselves, not only can we love our neighbours more effectively as well, but we come to fully know the love that God has for us.

We topic of love is also considered in the story of another of the central group of twelve disciples, John.

In what ways might you be betraying your true self?

In what ways do you love yourself?

 

 

When you’re ready, move on to Part 2 of this story.

Mary Magdalene (1) – Fiction

Mary MagdaleneAfter considering Judas’ lasting reputation, we now turn to another of Jesus’ followers whose story has been embellished and fabricated long after they lived: Mary Magdalene.

Please read Luke 8:1-3

Coming from the fishing village of Magdala Tarichaea on the western shore of Lake Galilee, for centuries after her death she has been called a prostitute, depicted in art as semi-naked and as an isolated hermit repenting her sins in the wilderness – and even portrayed as Jesus’ wife.

This alternative story began 591, when Pope Gregory the Great declared in a sermon that Mary Magdalene, Mary of Bethany and the sinful woman described in Luke 7:36-50 were the same person. It was not until 1969, nearly 1400 years later, that the Roman Catholic Church decided Mary Magdalene was not, in fact, Luke’s penitent sinner. Further to that, in 2016, Pope Francis declared a major feast day for her (22 June) effectively placing her on a par with the male apostles. But even so, the reputation still lingers.

The second most mentioned woman in the Bible (the most being Mary, the mother of Jesus) and unlike any of the other women, she is not described in relation to someone else. She is not someone’s wife, mother or sister. She is Mary. Mary from Magdala. She has her own identity. She knows who she is. And she knows God knows who she is. And, as we will see, God calls her by name.

As with Mary Magdalene, history has a long record of other people making up all sorts of things or attributing words or actions incorrectly. The manipulation of information has existed since time immemorial. Even the Gospel writers wrote and edited the accounts and stories they heard from their sources to suit their own interpretation and the audience they wished to reach (e.g. Matthew wrote primarily to a Jewish readership; Luke for Gentiles). Governments throughout the centuries have conveyed the ‘facts’ in ways to support their manifesto and policy promises. The political ‘spin doctors’ of recent decades play a prominent role and, more recently, the rapid rise to prominence of ‘fake news’ has provided an alternative and even less palatable version of misrepresentation. From its origins in social media (presenting false stories as if they we true) the term ‘fake news’ soon found its way in to the language as a way of quickly dismissing criticism and other inconvenient truths. Society betraying itself perhaps.

On an individual level, probably all of us have felt misrepresented at times or that others have not understood our intentions and actions. “No, I didn’t mean it like that!” “What I meant to say was…” “Do you really think I would think that?” Times when the resulting hurt is immense. When lies that people tell become the perceived truth. When arguments tear everyone apart. When anger and bitterness becomes etched in the faces of the aggrieved. When no one believes we are the person we know ourselves to be.

History has presented us with a false image of Mary Magdalene and yet she has such a story to tell from her true self. Sometimes, we are not the ones responsible for the false image that is portrayed. Others may have made comments or spread rumours causing division and hurt, misunderstanding and pain. Colouring views, opinions and prejudices. Sometimes we can base our thoughts about others on such matters too.

Have your views of someone else been influenced by misunderstanding and rumour?

 

 

When you’re ready, move on to Part 2 of this story.