Sermon Holy Week 2006

Read: John 18:1-6

(Adapted from Hyde Park newsletter editorial by Jim Harnish)

Many of you will have guessed by now that I am a great fan of Judas and Thomas. These two, of all the disciples, I understand. I understand Judas because I often long to be him: the rebel, the revolutionary, the one to precipitate the beginning of the end of all that is wrong. I want to be on the inside track of change; first among those who bravely enter a new world order. Tragically, like Judas, I often find the very reverse is true as the cause blinds me to the end that comes for me.

So I was glad to hear about a documentary being made about the Gospel of Judas. I was looking forward to hearing more about this interesting character. But I have been disappointed by the marketing of the popular release of the Gospel of Judas. The impression has been created that this “new” release will shake the foundations of Christianity.

In fact, the Gospel of Judas is one of many gospels that have been known about and consistently rejected by the church since the second century AD. The reason for this rejection is not because it contains something that will undermine the veracity of Christian claims, but because it belonged to a decidedly un-Christian movement. That movement had Christian connections but was - and still is - not Christian. The movement was called Gnosticism, from the Greek word for ‘knowledge’.

Gnosticism has reared its head in the church and elsewhere throughout history. It is based on two core principles, which you may recognise in some aspects of what is punted as Christian these days.

Firstly, Gnosticism believes that salvation comes from secret knowledge, which God has, and which God gives to certain privileged individuals who, as guardians of “the truth”, will in turn impart this knowledge to an elect few. Listen to the opening lines of the Gospel of Judas: “The secret account of the revelation that Jesus spoke in conversation with Judas Iscariot” (emphasis added).

Now, it is unlikely that Judas had anything to do with authoring the Gospel, but it seems consistent at least with his commitments. Judas conspired and plotted. He belonged to that section of the Jewish people that was working in secret to overthrow the Romans. When it became apparent that Jesus might need a little push in the right direction, Judas’ plotting even turned against Jesus. His secrecy in the end was not so secret nor at all successful as Jesus did not retaliate against his arrest, nor call down the anger of revolutionary ferment at his trial. Judas’ secrets caught up with him and he could no longer face the demons in his dark night.

I find plots and intrigue beguiling. Having secret knowledge makes me feel powerful. To be part of those who are creating dissent without showing our faces, feels at once naughty and potent. But it is ultimately doomed to failure as plots beget plots and those who take over become the same as that which they sought to change.

By contrast hear the first scripture reading of the Church at Pentecost as Peter quoted from Joel: “I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh.” The Good News is for all people and all creation and it is for telling, not keeping.

So the example of Jesus calls us to work for societal change out in the open where our enemies can clearly see what we are doing. This prevents us working according to the adage: “the means justifies the end”. Our means must be moral and just. Our means must be as convincing as the hope toward which we press. Indeed, the means creates the end. So, Christian non-violent direct action is shocking in its openness and public nature, which invites even enemies into the change.

Secondly, Gnosticism viewed the body, earth and all material reality as evil. Only spirit is good and it is the goal of good spirituality to organise the escape of the spirit from the body. The Gospel of Judas says that Jesus gave Judas secret knowledge about how the betrayal would aid Jesus in liberating his spirit from his body, thereby lending justification for Judas’ actions.

Again, I find myself resonating with this idea for it is much easier to pray than to care. I can pray for my enemies, but to make them my friends is too much. It is easier to be a good religious person than to actually follow Jesus. I would rather be the professional spiritual leader than stoop to the level of the ‘suffering servant’.

And yet this is exactly the call upon my life. It is this world, my fellow humans, even my own flesh, which I am called to help heal. From the beginning to the end the Bible speaks of the inherent goodness of creation and the inescapable connection between God and God’s world. Genesis declares at every injection of life into the universe, that it is good, it is good, it is good! And Jesus is the word made flesh - not some vessel into which God inserted divinity only to suck it out again at the end. We pray for God’s will to be done on earth as it is in heaven.

The Cross presents a challenge and choice to us all, but particularly those of us closely associated with holy things. Proximity to the Divine in Jesus did not guarantee Judas of salvation. He still made the choice that catapulted him to disaster. Perhaps because he was so fervent about his beliefs, he was more vulnerable to the temptations of secrecy, power and the heady ideas of revolutionary change. Religious people everywhere can hear in Judas’ story a warning. The choice is still there to make every day and every moment: will we be like secret, elitist Judas or will we be like vulnerable Jesus?