Easter 7B Acts 1:15-17, 21-26 John 17:6-19 I Have Yielded Occasionally To
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Easter 7B Acts 1:15-17, 21-26 John 17:6-19 I have yielded occasionally to the temptation of watching some video or movies on my iPad as I drift off to sleep. Recently I watched the quasi-documentary It Might Get Loud, directed by David Guggenheim, who directed An Inconvenient Truth, the Al Gore environmental film. Guggenheim tells the stories of three famous rock guitarists whose professional lives span fifty years — Jimmy Page of Led Zeppelin, The Edge from U2, and Jack White of The White Stripes, The Raconteurs and The Dead Weather. In an interview Guggenheim notes how even if you're not a fan of rock music, "you'll love the movie because many of the things said in the movie are universal." One scene that bears out that immodest claim occurs in Mount Temple Comprehensive high school in Dublin, where Edge now of the U2 band was a student. The school is closed and empty, so Edge's voice echoes in the hallways. He walks up to a bulletin board and recalls how in 1976 a fourteen-year-old Larry Mullen posted a sign asking if anyone wanted to start a band. Six people responded. One quit after the first practice, a second left in a few weeks, and a third was edged out after a year. That left Mullen on drums, Adam Clayton on bass, David Evans (Edge) on guitar, and Paul Hewson (Bono) on vocals. At first the group was called Feedback, then The Hype, and finally U2. "We were really, really bad," said Edge. That was 150 million records ago. As Edge looked at the bulletin board, he paused, pondered, and then said: "I could have been a banker." Such was the mystery of his personal destiny, which mystery is, as Guggenheim noted, a universal experience for all of us. How can any one of us fully explain how we have arrived at where we are today, at this moment in time? 1 It happens that this brief moment in the Church’s seasons is Ascensiontide, the ten days between Ascension Day and the Day of Pentecost. It might be a fitting moment to consider this mystery of personal destiny. The lessons for this week are challenging. It is hard to maintain concentration on the gospel reading, an excerpt from Jesus’ high priestly prayer, and takes some art to read well aloud. It feels a bit awkward to eavesdrop on Jesus’ intimate prayer moments with God. The author of I John seems a bit cranky. Katherine Pershey says about this lesson that the writer comes off “like an ostentatiously religious aunt who cannot resist making a comment to the family atheist during supper, saying ‘Those who do not believe in God have made him a liar…yes, thanks, I’ll have another piece of pie.’ ” The reading from Acts this week introduces two men, both of whom were part of the inner circle of Jesus' twelve apostles: Judas and Matthias. For two thousand years the name Judas Iscariot has epitomized infamy, treachery, and tragedy. Apparently the early church was quick to build a case against Judas—Pentecost occurred less than two months after Jesus’ death—and to vilify him for betraying the Master. Matthew cites a tradition that says Judas repented of his act, brought back the 30 pieces of silver and flung them down before the chief priests and elders, and they in turn bought a field with it for burying the poor. In Acts, Peter says that Judas was the one who bought it, and the Greek word he uses implies that it was a small farm, not a mere field. The very disparity in accounts suggests a confused rush to besmirch the character of the man who had once been treasurer of Jesus’ little band. As for Matthias, despite his importance as the "thirteenth apostle" who replaced Judas, history consigned him to anonymity and obscurity. Since Acts 1:12–26 is the only passage about Matthias in Scripture, we know nothing else about him except for some disparate traditions in early Christian literature. 2 Reflecting on the lives of these two followers of Jesus, I find it difficult to understand how or why each one ended up where he did. Such is the mystery of human decisions and divine destiny, both theirs and ours. With his infamous kiss of betrayal, Judas "served as a guide for those who arrested Jesus" (Acts 1:16). But why? How could he have committed such a deplorable act? Three Scriptures locate the explanation outside of and beyond Judas's own choices. John's gospel this week says that Judas was "doomed to destruction" (John 17:12), as if some ominous fate overtook him. John and Luke also say that Judas's betrayal "fulfilled Scripture" (John 17:12, Acts 1:16); but their interpretation of the Old Testament to reach this New Testament conclusion would make most Bible readers scratch their heads. Luke also writes that “satan entered Judas” to betray Jesus (Luke 22:3). I don't find any of these explanations satisfying or illuminating. By the way, if you read the Exodus narrative carefully, you'll find a similar explanation for Pharaoh's "hard heart" — it's described as both an act of God and a consequence of his own choices. We should not patronize Judas as a mere pawn. He did what he did for his own complex motives, most of which are lost to us today. He received his infamous "thirty pieces of silver," but I suspect that other factors came into play, including some that he himself could not fathom. It is perhaps understandable that 150 years later some Gnostics gave Judas's reputation a makeover. The "Gospel of Judas" that was discovered not long ago — a third or fourth century Coptic translation from the original Greek that contains very little that is specifically Christian — portrays Judas as a hero who betrays Jesus at his own request, and not as the quintessential villain. The efforts to give Judas a make-over continue. DaVinci Code devotees are taking another look at the Zealot and conjecturing he may have led the soldiers to Jesus with the intention of forcing a cataclysmic event and a speedy arrival of the heavenly kingdom. What if Judas actually had more faith in Jesus’ preaching than the other disciples did, so that he 3 believed the kingdom would come and was cruelly rewarded for it by his jealous companions? The truth is, we will never really know the truth, because ‘history is written by winners,’ and Judas, in this case was a loser. We can note a couple of things here. First, Judas's betrayal of Jesus is unremarkable. Peter denied that he would ever deny the Lord, but did so three times. The other eleven all made the same promise, but when Jesus was arrested all the disciples deserted him and fled. We should never deny our capacity for denial. And, after betrayal and denial, Judas and Peter responded in similar ways. After aiding and abetting in the condemnation of Jesus, Judas was “filled with remorse” and returned the blood money. Peter broke down and wept. Also, in playing the most undesirable role in all of human history, in a certain sense Judas triggered the events that led to the greatest good for all humanity, the death and resurrection of Jesus. Augustine is hardly the only believer to hope that "even from my sins God has drawn good." The selection of Matthias to replace Judas is likewise murky. It was necessary to appoint an apostle in the place of Judas, especially to keep the important symbolism of the 12 tribes of Israel embodied in the 12 apostles. Qualifications? Just one: a person who had been with Jesus and could witness to Jesus’ resurrection. That was it. No resumes, interviews, background checks, sermon videos, etc. Two candidates emerged, presumably by the Holy Spirit, Barsabbas and Matthias. At a more human level, the eleven remaining apostles simply nominated two candidates: "they proposed two men" (Acts 1:23). When they prayed, they confessed that God had already chosen the right person, and that their task was to decipher the divine predetermination. 4 I wonder: What if they had nominated Mary Magdalene to replace Judas? Can you just imagine how different history might have been if Peter and the others had the courage and vision to at least nominate a woman for apostleship? Was this God’s will, or did the slate of two males possibly frustrate divine will? Who can tell? Finally, the apostles resorted to "dumb luck," the casting of lots to ascertain the divine intent, just as lots were cast to decide who was to be thrown out of Jonah’s boat into the roiling sea and to decide which soldier should win Jesus’ garments. The roll of the dice identified Matthias instead of the alternate Barsabbas. Did God make these determinations, we ask? Then what happened? We don't know, because this is the only Biblical reference to Matthias. Numerous conjectures and legends about his identity and his destiny emerged over the centuries, including that he was stoned and beheaded in Jerusalem, a martyr. The mystery of Matthias's personal destiny thus includes obscurity and uncertainty. And so it may be for us when we contemplate the mystery of our own personal identity and destiny. How is it, and why is it that we have arrived at this moment, as we are in this moment, and who we are in this moment? It is a dance of human decision and divine destiny! I think now of John Milton, perhaps the greatest poet of the English language.