What do we suppose was going through Judas’ mind when Jesus made His clear, prophetic announcement at the Last Supper that one of the disciples would betray Him (Mt. 26:20-25)? Certainly, Judas acted just as shocked as all the other disciples, joining in with their, “Surely it is not I?” question. Does he think that he could “fool” Jesus by pretending it would not be him?
Maybe he thinks of Jesus as one of those self-proclaimed psychics who shroud their foretelling in vague clues because they can only “see” bits and pieces into the future, but not the whole picture? Or perhaps he really does believe that Jesus knows darn well who it would be, but if he could at least fool the rest of the disciples, he would still have a shot at keeping his thirty pieces of silver?
Scripture does not reveal to us what is going through Judas’ mind. But there is one other option that could explain what makes him act just as shocked as the other disciples in hearing that one of them would betray Jesus. It is entirely possible that Judas really does not know that he would be the one.
My mother was one of six siblings—all of whom married and had kids of their own—so I grew up with lots of extended family. One of my fondest childhood memories was going to my grandmother’s house for family gatherings, surrounded by all my cousins. Of course, there were a few gatherings that were not so delightful to remember; specifically, the times I felt picked on by the other kids, as is the way with normal childhood rivalries.
One day I was in conversation with one of my cousins, reminiscing about old times. When I warmly shared with her that my favorite memories were of all of us gathered at Grandma’s, she looked at me, cocked her head to the side, and flatly announced, “Those weren’t my favorite memories. You were always such a bully.” My cousin was not angry; actually, she was laughing about it now—but one can imagine my shock. Me?? The bully? I was the victim!
Days later, her comment stayed with me because I honestly had no idea what she was talking about. Then I remembered . . . the times I was relieved when she was being murmured about and I was not . . . the times I said nothing in her defense . . . and, I imagined, the times that I quite possibly joined in the conspiring against her. Times erased long ago from my memory, but seared painfully in hers. I called her to apologize for any pain I had caused her, and she lovingly forgave me, saying it was a long time ago. I never even knew.
Such, perhaps, was the disposition of Judas in the midst of this shocking revelation from Jesus. Perhaps he truly did not see himself as a “betrayer.” Perhaps he only viewed things from his own perspective—that of “victim”—whose Messiah was not carrying out the plan He had promised, at least not in the way or in the timetable Judas had expected.
Bafflingly, it is possible that Judas might even have thought he was doing Jesus a favor—helping push His mission along. In fact, he was. Just not in the way Judas had intended. If only Judas could have found it in his heart to acknowledge his betrayal to the Lord and say, “I’m sorry.”
It’s true, “sorry” would not have cut it. But Jesus would have forgiven him anyway.
Author’s Note: Excerpt from The Safe Haven: Scriptural Reflections for the Heart and Home (Season of Lent). To purchase, visit Amazon or The Catholic Company, where all other volumes currently in print are also available.
Image from Wikimedia Commons
