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For I received from the Lord what I also passed on to you: The Lord Jesus, on the night he was betrayed, took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, “This is my body, which is for you; do this in remembrance of me.” ` (1 Corinthians 11:23-24)

Tonight, I plan to watch Judas and The Black Messiah on HBO Max. The film, written and directed by Shaka King, tells the story of how Fred Hampton, (former head of the Chicago Black Panther Party) was betrayed by William O’Neal, an FBI informant who had infiltrated the organization. Watching the film has been on my to-do list since it premiered earlier this month, and it did not occur to me until earlier today that as much as I want to see it, I really don’t want to see it.

I really don’t want to see it.

I really don’t want to see it because it will be yet another reminder of how frequently the movements to improve the lives of African Americans have been sabotaged by forces acting with the knowledge, consent, and support of the American government.

I really don’t want to see it because it will be yet another reminder of how frequently oppressed people are co-conspirators in their own oppression..

I really don’t want to see it because it is yet another reminder of what John Calvin called the “total depravity of man,” by which he meant that every facet of human nature and every human being is scarred by sin—and that means we are capable of inflicting incalculable damage on each other.

I really don’t want to see the film because finally, (and most hauntingly) it is a reminder of how frequently the people close to you betray you.

I want to see it, but I don’t want to see it. It’s about betrayal. And it’s going to be hard to watch without thinking about the people that have betrayed me, and the people that I have betrayed. For now, let’s focus on the betrayed. I’ll address the betrayers in a later post.

Betrayal.

The mere mention of the word sends a shiver up the spine. No experience is more painful. And unfortunately, no experience is more common. I know that we are cautioned against ranking sins (you know—there are no big sins or little sins), but betrayal must rank somewhere near the top of the bottom.  In The Inferno (one of the great literary masterworks of all time) Dante imagines that Hell is comprised of nine different rings, each ring representing a different sin, and the final address of all those who committed that sin. He imagines that the lowest ring is reserved for the worst sinners; and the worst sinners were those who had betrayed a benefactor.  In that lowest circle of hell, there were four men--and one of them was Judas Iscariot, the disciple who betrayed Jesus. To Dante, you can't get any lower.

Betrayal shows human nature at its worst.

I wish I could tell you that it won’t happen to you. But I’d probably be lying. The only way to avoid betrayal is to avoid relationships. But to avoid relationships is a betrayal of our essential humanity, and thus a poor choice. So, yes. Betrayal is coming.

But when it arrives (or if it has arrived and you are still paralyzed by the memory), I want to offer some insight on how best to respond.

Jesus, as always, is our example. During a discussion about the theological significance of communion in one of the letters he wrote to a church he founded, the Apostle Paul makes a powerful statement about our powerful Lord. He writes that the “same night” Jesus was betrayed, he was still able to function in his eternal purpose to inaugurate a new covenant between God and humanity. And not only was he able to function, but he did so with an attitude of thanksgiving! According to the Gospels, Jesus even washed Judas’ feet, fully aware of what Judas was getting ready to do.

The same night he was betrayed, Jesus took bread (representing the fulfillment of his purpose) and gave thanks (representing the gratitude of his heart).

The experience of betrayal did not derail his destiny, or rob Jesus of his equanimity, or his focus. He kept doing what he had to do “the same night” that he was betrayed.

After being struck by what is arguably the most poisonous arrow in the human quiver, Jesus stayed focused and stayed grateful.

How?

No! The night that Jesus was betrayed wasn’t his best night.

But the night that Jesus was betrayed wasn’t his only night.

And the night that Jesus was betrayed wasn’t his last night.

And it won’t be yours either.

Stay focused.

Stay grateful.