The order of operations are
important.
This
is something we learned back in middle school math class. Maybe you remember
getting a problem like 1 + 3 x 7 x (17 – 4) ^ 2. Maybe if you have a really
good memory you might even recall something about “permdas”: Parentheses,
exponents, roots, multiplication, division, addition, subtraction—the order of
how you are to rightly do a problem. If you just do it from left to right it’s
not going to turn out so well.
 |
| Apparently roots have disappeared since the days I was in school... |
But
the order of operations matter.
This
story of Jesus and Judas actually begins when Satan tempts Jesus in the
wilderness early in Luke’s Gospel. “Make for yourself some bread,” said Satan.
“One does not live by bread alone,” retorted Jesus. “Here, just worship me and
I’ll give you the world,” offered Satan, “Worship the Lord your God only,” responded
Jesus. “OK, then throw yourself off the temple and prove your divinity,” said
Satan. “I’m not one to test God,” finished Jesus. And then Satan departed to
wait for an opportune time. That time would come eighteen chapters later in
when Satan entered into Judas Iscariot.
Now,
we need to pause to consider some things at this point. An important, but very
tricky question comes to mind: to what extent can a person be held liable when
their actions are not their own? This is a great question for our legal system,
but it is also a question for us to consider when it comes to making judgments
of one another. If Satan entered Judas, then was it even Judas who betrayed
Jesus or was it simply the devil working through a person who had no control
over the matter? Judas’ fault in the matter may not seem to matter to us much
today but in fact it has huge ramifications because if Judas was beyond grace
then we have a problem: no matter the good that we do and the right that we
wrong we can never be completely certain of grace because each of us betray
Jesus in our own little ways. Any of us in Judas’ shoes may have done the same
thing, whether by our own power or Satan’s.
Some
people are OK with the idea that God has pre-ordained some people for salvation
and some people for damnation but I am not, because as much as I try and try to
put myself in the shoes of the faithful there is always that lingering
doubt—that truth in the back of my mind—that a part of me is much closer to
Judas, and I can never know which part of me will be judged without God’s grace
being bigger even than betrayal.
It
all comes down to the order of operations.
Luke
knows this. In the story of the Last Supper the order is everything. The first
thing that happens is that Satan enters Judas and he goes to the authorities.
Then we have the Passover account where everybody is seated around the table
for the meal. Since Jesus knows that he is about to be betrayed he could easily
have shown Judas the door by now, having had ample opportunity to celebrate one
last meal with those that are faithful.
But he doesn’t. Thank God, he doesn’t. Instead he offers those words: “My body,
given for you… My blood, shed for you”—not for some of you, not for those of
you who won’t betray me, but for you—an individual sinner in need of repentance,
lest you doubt which one you are. The order of operations is everything.
Only
after extending the promise of radical grace in the form of the Eucharist to his
disciples does Jesus mention the betrayal, saying “Woe to that one” by whom he
would be betrayed. Jesus is capable of doing something that we almost always
cannot: he holds both radical grace and radical judgment in tension. He does
not condemn some and save others Santa-Claus-style with a list of who is
naughty and nice. Rather, he condemns all
and saves all. On the Last Supper we
receive the ultimate condemnation, which is that we are the ones who betrayed
Christ. Woe to us, Jesus adds. And yet, we also receive the ultimate promise of
salvation—Jesus’ body given for us, his blood given for us: radical grace and
radical judgment in a single package. The order of operations matter, because
if Judas had been sent out before the meal then all we would have is doubt as
to whether we are the ones who are faithful or the ones complicit in the
betrayal. But by the simplest act of mercy we are shown for who we really are: both
horrible betrayers and recipients of radical grace. That is why we are in need
of this bread and wine, this promise of salvation, because each of us are
captive to forces outside of our control and Satan may well find an opportune
time in our lives to lead us into betrayal, but that promise is covered with
Jesus’ body and blood.
The
order of operations matter, because the fact that the betrayal bookends the
promise means that we no longer need to split the hairs of God’s grace; we no
longer need to make banal assessments about suicide victims or people with
mental disabilities; we no longer need to decide who is in control of their
actions or not; we no longer need to validate conversion experiences or
determine when a person is worthy of salvation. All are worthy of it, even if
all do not know it. All are condemned, even if all do not feel the weight of
guilt. All have fallen short, but all are redeemed. This is the great promise
of the Last Supper that, though all of our hands lie on the table so all of us
have a hand in Christ’s death, God’s radical grace trumps even the betrayal.
The
order of operations matter.
Thanks
be to God.
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