Happy Lutheran

On Good Friday, when death and despair take center stage, I think always of Judas, and his death of anguish, and hopelessness. His death of remorse and regret. His death of guilt and shame.

Have you died such a death?

On Good Friday, when the narrative of the crucifixion highlights so many bad decisions, scapegoating, and betrayals, I think of Judas, and his desperate, unsuccessful attempt to put things right. His too-late attempt to change course. His impossible efforts to call back events that have spiraled out of his control.

On Good Friday, when Jesus’ body becomes the site of terrible violence and agony, I think of Judas and his kiss of death. His use of physical intimacy as a weapon. His use of physical touch as treachery.

Have you given such a kiss? Received one?

We who know the story so well are not surprised that down through the millennia, Judas has become a pariah: Judas the outcast; Judas the lost; Judas trapped forever in a hell of his own making.

In the centuries of Christian theology, not much sympathy is wasted on Judas.

It’s your own fault, Judas. Greed. Selfishness. Sinfulness. Bad choices.

In the centuries of Christian art and iconography, there is no halo for Judas.

And yet.

The lavish, tenacious insistence of God’s universal, no-one-left-behind salvific plan for the world whispers an alternative ending to the story.

Judas’ death is not the final death. Judas’ death does not have the last word.

Jesus follows Judas into death, into hell, even, with arms outstretched to embrace and rescue every denier, every betrayer, every liar, every sinner: every single person who thinks themself beyond the reach of God’s reconciling, redeeming love and forgiveness. Even Judas.

And so, this death-filled Friday is, indeed, “Good” for Judas.

And so then also for us.