Dear Friends,

My first trip to Israel happened in 2001 while the second Intifada was happening, which made tourists in the Holy Land almost non-existent. I spent that Good Friday afternoon sitting and praying in the courtyard of Caiaphas’ house all by myself. On that very spot two betrayals had taken place: Judas had accepted thirty pieces of silver from the high priests to betray Jesus, and Peter had denied Jesus three times while Jesus was on trial before the Sanhedrin.

Sitting alone in the courtyard overlooking the Kidron Valley, I had plenty of time to reflect on how often we betray Jesus, how often I had betrayed Jesus. Reflecting on my sins and failures is not something I enjoy doing, but I know if I get better at naming my betrayals, I will do a better job at avoiding them in the future.

We do not know why Judas betrayed Jesus. There have been many theories as to what his final goal may have been. We do know that he disappears with the other disciples when Jesus is arrested. Perhaps he wanted to look like he was just one of the other disciples and in the chaos appeared innocent. Judas might have been relying on being able to tell the other apostles later, “The soldiers secretly followed me! I can’t believe it!” So, too, do we sometimes crave a plausible excuse to do evil in front of others and not be held accountable. We blame our evil on someone else, the soldiers or the government, even while we secretly gain from it. We sigh and weep while we profit from it, keep confrontation at bay, and close ourselves off. We desire an excuse, and we delight in a reasonable story which accounts for our evil. We have our many excuses ready for when we see Jesus. “Not our fault, never our fault.”

At the same time, we want to remain close to Jesus. Both Judas and Peter follow Jesus secretly after his arrest. Judas is present to see Pilate condemn Jesus and Peter follows at a distance, keeping abreast of the results of the arrest, even while he does not want to be named a friend with Jesus. Peter wants to be near Christ, but he is terrified to accept the fate which comes with it. Peter wants to love Christ, even as he fails to do so. Peter wants to be a safe distance from Christ, close enough that he might mourn when Christ is executed, but far away enough that he might escape execution himself. Every person is tempted to be like Peter. We have sworn our fidelity to Christ and then broken our oath. We huddle far enough away from Christ that we will not be held accountable for His actions and words. We like Christianity from a distance, we do not want to change our thinking and living.

If we are honest, we have to admit that what happened that first Holy Week is really not that far from us. The denial of Christ is both the betrayal of God and the betrayal of ourselves. The sin of denial runs deep in us; not only do we deny God, we deny the truth. We are angered by the truth, embarrassed by the truth, ashamed of the truth. The truth reveals our own limitations, the shallowness of our perception, the nagging uncertainty of the beliefs of which we claim to be most sure, and the incompleteness of our ‘Yes’.

Like Peter and Judas, we tend to turn away and not look Jesus in the face because if we did, then we would have to acknowledge the truth. Wonderfully, in spite of our betrayal, Jesus offers us loving forgiveness. He remains faithful while we turn away. Even when we nail him to a cross, he rises to let us know we are loved and called to so much more.

As our Lent comes to an end, let us pick up both our failures and successes and join Jesus for the Holy Week ceremonies. With Jesus it is never too late to start again.

Peace,

Fr. Damian