Picking Sides
Mark 14.1-11

Clinton or Obama, Obama or Clinton. When you turn on the news these days you’re bound to see something about the US Democratic candidate race. Obama seems set to win, but Clinton continues to fight on.

One thing that has been happening, though, is that over the last few weeks various people have been switching their allegiance from Hilary Clinton to Barack Obama. She’s also been running out of money, a sure sign that her support, at least among the big wheels, is beginning to fade. There’s begun to be a cascade of support moving from one candidate to the other, and the more people see it happening, the more likely others are to follow suit.

The same thing happened a year and a half ago at the Liberal Party convention here in Canada. Delegates moved their votes from one candidate to another until, in the end, Stephane Dion, who was a rank outsider, ended up winning.

People are in politics for all kinds of reasons, some good, some not so good, but often one of the most important things is to be on the winning side when the final whistle is blown. Because no-one wants to be on the losing side.

Why did the disciples decide to follow Jesus? Mark doesn’t tell us in his gospel. He just records that Jesus called them and they followed.

Mark 1:16 As Jesus walked beside the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and his brother Andrew casting a net into the lake, for they were fishermen. 17 “Come, follow me,” Jesus said, “and I will make you fishers of men.” 18 At once they left their nets and followed him.

But that wasn’t the first Simon Peter and his brother Andrew had heard of Jesus. John tells us a lot more about the disciples in general and he tells us a bit more about their response to Jesus’ call.

John 1.40-41 Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, was one of the two[disciples of John the Baptist] who heard what John had said and who had followed Jesus. The first thing Andrew did was to find his brother Simon and tell him, “We have found the Messiah” (that is, the Christ).

We tend to super-spiritualise the gospel stories, because we read them with the benefit of hindsight. But these guys didn’t know how the story was going to turn out when they started following Jesus. Although their reasons would change, they first followed Jesus because they believed him to be some kind of political leader who would set everything right. Andrew and Peter believed they had found the Messiah, and they had, but the messiah they were looking for was more political than spiritual, and it would take the next three years for Jesus to help them see otherwise.

Later on in John chapter 1 we read the story of Philip and Nathanael. John 1.45,49 Philip found Nathanael and told him, “We have found the one Moses wrote about in the Law, and about whom the prophets also wrote—Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph.” … Then Nathanael declared, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God; you are the King of Israel.”

Nathanael was even more specific. He called Jesus the “King of Israel.” Considering that there was already a king on the throne and that Caesar was supposed to be the overruling king, those words amount to treason! If the wrong people hear you saying things like that they’ll string you up, or chop your head off.

A while ago we looked at James and John in Mark 10. 35 Then James and John, the sons of Zebedee, came to him. “Teacher,” they said, “we want you to do for us whatever we ask.” 36 “What do you want me to do for you?” he asked. 37 They replied, “Let one of us sit at your right and the other at your left in your glory.”

James and John knew why they had decided to follow Jesus. They had hitched their wagon to a star and they were expecting to get some pretty important jobs out of it at the end; sitting on the right and left of the new king of Israel no less.

Over time, they came to see that Jesus was not the person they had first thought him to be. He was more than that. As he went about teaching and healing they realised that he was more than just a potential leader of a rebellion against Rome, or a crusader for justice and integrity among his own people, or someone who would challenge the corrupt religious system in Jerusalem.

But that was a long process, one which didn’t really come to its fulfilment until after Jesus had died and been raised from the dead. When they started out, all they knew was that this man was going to change their world, and they wanted to be part of the story.

Judas never got beyond that.

Betrayal?

Now the Passover and the Feast of Unleavened Bread were only two days away, and the chief priests and the teachers of the law were looking for some sly way to arrest Jesus and kill him. 2 “But not during the Feast,” they said, “or the people may riot.” …

According to the first century Jewish historian Josephus, there would have been nearly three million people in Jerusalem for the festival. That’s the population of Toronto, in a much smaller space! Even allowing for some exaggeration, there were clearly a lot of people in Jerusalem. Not only that, this was the Passover. The main theme of the festival is deliverance from oppressive enemies. Here was a riot waiting to happen! The chief priests and teachers were supposed to be the leaders of the people. They were supposed to be the ones who were teaching the people how to be faithful to God; but they had betrayed their trust. When the messiah turned up in town they were looking for ways to get rid of him and still save their own skins. Then their betrayal of the people was matched by a greater betrayal.

10 Then Judas Iscariot, one of the Twelve, went to the chief priests to betray Jesus to them. 11 They were delighted to hear this and promised to give him money. So he watched for an opportunity to hand him over.

Why did he do it?

Just as we tend to super-spiritualise the gospels, we tend to demonise Judas. In many ways Judas wasn’t that different from the other disciples. When push came to shove, towards the end of Jesus’ ministry, nobody did very well.

Many defected (John 6.66)

Still, you can understand why many defected when Jesus’ teaching became more challenging. In John 6, when Jesus began speaking about his death in metaphorical ways, talking about eating his flesh and drinking his blood, it says that 66 From this time many of his disciples turned back and no longer followed him.

You can understand that response. “OK, this is just too weird. I’m outta here!”

All deserted (Mark 14.50)

You can understand why all of the disciples deserted Jesus when the temple guard came to arrest him in the garden of Gethsemane. It says 50 Then everyone deserted him and fled. When they saw the guards with swords and clubs they got scared and ran.

Peter denied (Mark 14.71)

And you can understand why Peter denied him in the courtyard when Jesus was being tried. It says Peter 71 … began to call down curses on himself, and he swore to them, “I don’t know this man you’re talking about.”

Even though he had followed the posse back into the lion’s den, so to speak, he too got scared when he was directly challenged and he denied that he even knew Jesus.

But it was Judas who betrayed (14.10)

You can understand people defecting, or deserting Jesus, or denying him, as emotional responses to the situation, but Judas’ response was different. It has the ring of cold calculation about it.

Why would he do that?

Mark doesn’t tell us, but I’d like to suggest that Jesus just didn’t match up to Judas’ expectations. Like the other disciples he had signed on to see regime change in Jerusalem. He wanted to see the Romans kicked out, and freedom restored. But when they arrived in Jerusalem the ruling priests rejected Jesus. Then Jesus, instead of building bridges to the priests, just continued to push them harder and harder. I think Judas realised that this was not going to turn out the way he had hoped. Then, when Jesus began speaking more and more openly about his coming death, Judas knew that he hadn’t signed up to be a martyr’s sidekick. He had signed up to be on the “winning side.” So he changed sides.

I suspect that, to Judas, Jesus was only ever a means to an end, the political reformation of Israel. When Judas came to the conclusion that Jesus had “betrayed the revolution” he had no problem betraying him. Judas wanted out. Enough of this talk of death. He signed on for the kingdom and a place at the table, not for death and a place in the graveyard.

It doesn’t help us to demonise Judas, to make him into some kind of inhuman monster. That may make us feel better because it puts him in a different class from us. But it doesn’t help us learn from his choice. People did the same thing after 9/11. The men who flew the airplanes into the World Trade Centre were, “monsters,” or “insane,” or “inhuman.” We told ourselves that, partly so we could believe that we were incapable of such an act. If we do that to Judas we miss the chance to learn from him.

So I’m forced to ask myself, “What disappointment in Jesus would it take for me to betray him?” What if something terrible were to happen to my family? Job lost everything; children, workers, animals, houses, and although he was deeply disappointed in God, yet he didn’t turn his back on him. His wife, on the other hand, encouraged him to, “curse God and die.”

What would it take?

Or lavish devotion?

Into the middle of this dark story of betrayal, Mark drops a sparkling gem; the story of a nameless woman in Bethany who anoints Jesus’ head with oil as he reclines at the dinner table in the home of a friend.

Judas’ story is all about calculations. The priests and teachers calculating how to arrest Jesus without causing a riot. Judas calculating his moment to betray Jesus.

But what happens in Bethany isn’t about calculations, it’s about extravagance. Even the way that Mark describes what the woman brings with her is extravagant, “an alabaster flask of ointment of pure nard, very costly.” His words are tumbling over themselves as he describes this really expensive gift. How expensive was it? Somebody sitting at the table valued it at more than 300 Denarii. A denarius was a day’s wages for a labourer. So, Ontario’s minimum wage is now 8.75 an hour. 300 days at 8 hours a day works out to $21,000 for a small flask of ointment. That’s some expensive ointment! 

And she doesn’t just kind of dribble a little bit on Jesus’ head. No! She snaps the neck off and pours the whole lot on him. The others around the table get a bit ticked. I can hear my own voice in there too. There are so many “better” things that I could think of to spend $21,000 on. I just received a request for support from some former colleagues who oversee the work of 66 missionaries working from China to Sudan, from Yemen to Kyrgyzstan. I’m sure they could do with that kind of money.

But what does Jesus say? 6 “Leave her alone,” said Jesus. “Why are you bothering her? She has done a beautiful thing to me. 7 The poor you will always have with you, and you can help them any time you want. But you will not always have me. 8 She did what she could. She poured perfume on my body beforehand to prepare for my burial. 9 I tell you the truth, wherever the gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her.”

“She has done a beautiful thing to me.” There is no calculation here; just extravagant devotion. It’s not that Jesus suddenly changed his position on the poor. He was deeply committed to the poor. It’s just that at this point, in the last few days before his death, he appreciates this expression of devotion. “She did what she could.”

Jesus says that the story of this woman’s devotion will be told all over the world. (And we are fulfilling that prophecy this morning.) He sees something beautiful in it.

Judas only sees something disgusting. Jesus is talking about his death again, which Judas sees as defeat, and he accepts this expensive gift, which Judas probably sees as “betraying the revolution.”

Jesus’ programme or Jesus’ person?

And there lies the question. Where does our commitment lie? To Jesus’ programme, or to Jesus’ person?

Judas was committed to what he thought was Jesus’ programme; freedom for the oppressed, restoration of proper worship, challenging the authorities. That was what he had signed on for.

The woman at Bethany, and the other disciples to a greater or lesser extent, had become committed to Jesus’ person. Their first loyalty wasn’t to Jesus’ teaching. It was to Jesus himself.

And, you know, that is what makes the difference between life and death. It’s not our theology that saves us; or our commitment to social justice; or our commitment to “the gospel”; or even our commitment to “the kingdom of God.” It’s our devotion to a person, Jesus Christ.

If we get that right, then everything else will follow; because we will want to value the things that he values, and do the things the he does. But it is possible to take our eyes off Jesus and focus instead on any number of good Christian things, and in the process miss the most important thing in life, that he wants to have a relationship with us.

That woman in Bethany got it right. Judas got wrong. Where do you stand? Are you more committed to some theology or programme or agenda than you are to Jesus? Be careful. Even the best programme can turn sour. But focus on Jesus and make him the centre of your faith and all the rest will fall into place and you spend your life in devotion to him.