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Exploring the word

17 May 2015 - Seventh Sunday of Easter, Cycle B

The thing we often overlook in the harrowing, dreadful story of Judas is that he didn’t just betray Jesus. He betrayed 11 of his other friends too. A mole in the foundational generation of church, Judas burrowed into their intimate community and into their confidences, and every one of them trusted him with their finances. Judas wasn’t a fisherman like many of the original disciples, but more like Matthew: a businessman, not plucked from the shoreline but added to their number in one of the larger towns in the vicinity. The betrayal of Judas was so traumatic for the original group that his character is curtly introduced in three of the gospels with the stock epithet, “the traitor.” (His other name, Iscariot, either identifies him with the Judean town of Kerioth or associates him with the sicarii, a band of anti-Roman assassins whose number may have included Barabbas.) Both Luke and John go further, attributing the spirit within Judas to demonic forces. The death of Judas is told in alternate versions: as a despairing suicide in Matthew, or as an accident in Acts, conforming to the death of the wicked described in Wisdom 4:19. Either way, what Judas did was shocking and shameful, a tragedy in the Greek sense of the word. Still, the significance of the number 12 for a sense of Israelite completion was so powerful that a replacement to Judas had to be found. One proposal was literally another Judas, also called Barsabbas who went by the name Justus—probably because any Christian named Judas thereafter hastily departed from that name. Another apostle, Jude Thaddeus, took a permanently shortened nickname. The name Judas simply identifies one as a son of Judah and was apparently quite popular. In the end, the spirit of the group moved in the direction of no-more-Judases, with the lot falling to Matthias. What’s in a name? Matthias is a shortened form of Mattathias, the man whose zeal for the law was so great that he trip-started the Maccabean revolt. Of course, Mattathias had a hugely famous son, Judas Maccabeus. No matter where we look, we seem to come back to Judas. And perhaps this is all deliberate in the storytelling: that despite our desire to look away from the darkness of Judas the traitor, we can’t. The difference between Judas and the rest of the disciples hangs on a few fateful decisions. Like the others, Judas was chosen by Jesus, hand-selected and groomed for the job. He heard all the same teachings, was present for healings and miracles and exorcisms. Meanwhile he harbored his own dark spirit and gradually allowed it to rule his mind and heart. Personally I find Judas as frightening as he is tragic. It is so easy to keep company with Jesus, while keeping a hidden corner of my soul for my own disordered purposes.

Authors Alice Camille

Betrayal

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The inner word

20 May 2012 - Seventh Sunday of Easter, Cycle B

When Saint Peter rose to make his first speech in the Acts of the Apostles, he began not by talking about Jesus’ life and Resurrection but about his betrayal. The occasion for Peter’s words was the need for the apostles to choose a replacement for Judas and bring their number back up to the all-important symbolic 12. Peter set the scene by reminding the others both of the original events and also what they meant: the “fulfillment” of scripture, and by implication he makes the remarkable point not merely that the same Spirit the disciples had now received had also inspired the psalmist, but that this Spirit—God’s presence—was active even when God appeared to be absent (allowing the death of God’s own Son). Most people of faith go through a time when they feel God is distant or even doubt whether God is there at all. Have you ever had this experience? How can you still find God even when God seems far away?

Betrayal Faith

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Homily stories

28 Mar 2010 - Palm Sunday of the Passion of the Lord, Cycle C

My fifth-grade teacher, Mr. Cihocki, could really give “the look.” He was a young teacher, full of idealism, eager to reach us and teach us. And I was a blurter—a kid who couldn’t help but blurt out comments and quips I thought were funny. When I got bored in class I would blurt out some comment—just to spice things up. Mr. Cihocki would often take this in stride, chastising me mildly and telling me to keep my comments to myself and focus on the lesson. But one day I went too far. I’d blurt and he’d reprimand. I’d blurt more, and he’d get more annoyed. He was struggling to get across a lesson that he cared a lot about and it wasn’t going well, and I blurted one time too often. At that point I thought I saw steam coming from his ears. He was ready to lay into me, and I wouldn’t have blamed him. But he just gave “the look.” It was a mix of anger, sadness, and, mostly, disappointment. He looked as if he’d been personally betrayed. It was a look that said, “I know you can do better than that. Don’t you?” I suspect this is “the look” that Jesus gave Peter, who had denied Jesus for the third time. It turned out to be not a look of condemnation, but one that invited Peter to “weep bitterly,” repent, and become the man he was meant to become. Who’s given you “the look” in your life? Maybe it’s time you thank them—by being the person you are meant to be.

Authors Tom McGrath

Betrayal remorse Suffering repentance

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Homily stories

28 Mar 2010 - Palm Sunday of the Passion of the Lord, Cycle C

Politicians love parades. They are great opportunities to be seen by lots of people. And there is little risk involved. No speeches need to be given or stands on issues taken. If the parade watchers don’t like particular candidates and start to “boo,” the marchers can always claim that the jeers are being directed at someone marching nearby. In big cities like Chicago, local politicians try to get into the front line of the parades with all the clout-heavy bosses. No one wants to walk alone. In today’s readings, no one walks with Jesus. In fact in this C cycle, Luke’s account begins well after Jesus’ palm-laden entry into Jerusalem. He finds himself with his disciples, most of whom will desert him and deny they even know him. Like most people after a parade, the crowd has melted away, searching for something else to look at. Jesus will be alone. As we begin Holy Week, all that will transpire is laid out before us—the remembrance that is central to Holy Thursday, the pain of the cross that is Good Friday, the emptiness of Holy Saturday. While the story, as old as anything in the gospels, is familiar to us, the meaning behind the suffering and death of Jesus remains an incredible mystery. Are we ready to walk with Jesus, to follow the “way of the cross” this Holy Week in order to prepare ourselves for the wonders of next Sunday and Easter? Or will Jesus walk alone?

Authors Father Dominic Grassi

Betrayal abandonment Suffering following jesus

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Homily stories

09 Apr 2017 - Palm Sunday of the Passion of the Lord, Cycle A

The wonderful 2016 Martin Scorsese film Silence is the story of two 17th-century Jesuit priests who travel from Portugal to Japan to find a missing missionary. The priests enlist the help of an alcoholic fisherman named Kichijiro to guide them in their search. They learn that Kichijiro is a Christian convert, sort of. He won’t really admit it. They discover he renounced his faith to save his life, when the rest of his family was martyred. Kichijiro confesses to one of them, Father Rodrigues, who forgives him. He then betrays Rodrigues to the samurai—and then seeks his forgiveness again. He renounces his faith once more, and yet again wants Rodrigues to hear his confession! Kichijiro is like a cross between Judas and the boy who cried wolf. He’s an almost comical coward. Kichijiro is also supposed to be Everyman. As frustrated as Rodrigues is with him, he eventually realizes he’s no different than Kichijiro, no less absurd for his constant failings and flawed attempts to keep trying, and yet still deserving of God’s compassion. No matter how many times we betray Jesus, deny him, take the easy out, we can still keep coming back, even to the point of ridiculousness; we know God will always take us back, even though God knows we’ll fail again.

Authors Jennifer Tomshack

Martin Scorsese Betrayal Forgiveness

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Homily stories

04 May 2025 - Third Sunday of Easter, Cycle C

The 1996 film Big Night featured Tony Shaloub as Primo and Stanley Tucci as Secondo, two brothers who run a small, struggling restaurant in New Jersey after having emigrated from Italy. Primo, a genius chef, is too uncompromising, and Secondo, a businessman, is a bit of wheeler dealer. Events in the film lead to the “big night” when famous singer Louis Prima is supposed to come to the restaurant and place it on the map. Primo prepares a glorious meal that sends all the guests into sensory overload. But the night ultimately ends in disappointment and disagreements. The years of pent-up resentments between the two very different brothers explodes to the surface and leaves no one unscathed. The next morning, still in his formal clothes from the night before, Secondo walks into the kitchen, where Cristiano, the kitchen help, is sleeping on the counter. After a short nod good morning, Secondo begins preparing an omelette. No words are spoken. Cristiano gets the bread, Secondo, the plates and forks. Secondo places a portion on each plate with a little remaining in the pan. As the two sit to eat, Primo enters. After the drama from the evening before, it is hard to predict what the encounter will bring. Without a word, Secondo gets up, grabs a plate, and places the last portion of eggs before Primo, who has pulled up a chair. As Primo takes his first bite, Secondo reaches over and puts his arm around Primo. Cristiano exits to leave the brothers alone. After a few moments Primo puts his arm around Secondo as the two continue to eat in silence. Everything that needed to be said is captured in that simple gesture. In a similar way, after his Resurrection, Jesus prepared a meal for his disciples, including Peter, who had betrayed him three times. With the simple invitation to “Come, have breakfast,” the message is clear: All is forgiven.

Authors Patrice J. Tuohy

Forgiveness Betrayal Peter

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