Betrayal

We certainly don’t like to talk or even to think about betrayal.  The concept is disturbing and the act seemingly unforgiveable.  Playwright Steven Dietz said: “One should rather die than be betrayed. There is no deceit in death. It delivers precisely what it has promised. Betrayal, though ... betrayal is the willful slaughter of hope.” Yet, we have all been recipient of it.  In fact, we have all committed at least small betrayals even to those that we love the most.  How victimized we feel when betrayed.  How diligently we try to hide our betrayals.  There is anger and sadness on one side, shame and guilt on the other.  No other action draws such deep emotions.  We ask the pitiable question: “Why would they do this to me?”  And there is no answer to follow.  The one who betrays slinks into the night.

The greater the trust that one puts in another person, the greater the impact the betrayal has. The impact is always enormous. We feel as if we will never be able to trust anyone again.  How can we ever allow ourselves to become vulnerable in the future?  There comes an utter sense of helplessness.  Then the pain and passive sense of loss turns active. The presence of retaliation looms heavy.  This scene plays out as we mark Holy Thursday.  Jesus is betrayed by a kiss from his dear friend.  Confusion turns into violence as Peter draws his sword and cuts off the ear of a soldier.  But Jesus’ response is stunning.  He stops Peter and restores the soldier’s ear with his healing hand.  His action forgives his betrayers.

If it is true that we are both betrayed and betrayer, we must search for the common humanity that exists in both.  The confidences that have been compromised, the love that has been scorned and the trust that has been stolen beg for only one remedy.  That single antidote for the poison of betrayal is forgiveness.  Separation, isolation, resentment, woundedness, and rage can only destroy both victim and perpetrator.  Neither can continue to exist with any measure of real hope without forgiveness.  It may seem a bitter pill in many ways, but forgiveness is the vital medicine for healing betrayal.

I will begin to forgive those who have betrayed me and pray for forgiveness from those who I have betrayed.

Holy Thursday and Brokenness

The Savior of Zvenigorod

The Savior of Zvenigorod, an icon painted by Andrei Rublev sometime in the early fifteenth century, has been a great source of meditation for people over the centuries.  Henri Nouwen, the catholic scholar, priest, activist and author, wrote about it in his book "Behold the Beauty of the Lord" about twenty years ago.  He was moved by the depiction of Jesus because of his obvious brokenness and compassion. For Nouwen the facial expression became a profound spiritual experience.  The Saviour does not look severe, he doesn't judge, but sees everything.  Christ’s eyes seem to be directed at him.  He concludes that Christ’s tender and loving gaze penetrates the brokenness of humanity.

The icon is a powerful image for me as well.  Those eyes seem to be looking at that part in me which denies, and through that denial, betrays.  They look at me as they must have done with Peter on the night of his trial.  Three times he strongly declares that he does not know Jesus and is certainly not a follower.  The rooster crows and Peter looks over to see Jesus looking at him with those forgiving eyes.  Again and again I am forgiven.  Again and again I repeat my mistakes.  There is no judgement.  Only love and compassion.  Jesus suffers with me in solidarity.  Through this my weakness becomes my strength.  My brokenness becomes my path to healing and hope.

It is sometimes difficult to deal with that which has been broken. The proud, strong and invincible youth that we once were has stumbled. The idealism and dream that was clearly defined in our character and mind has dimmed or altered. Our hearts have been wrenched by losses and disappointments. There is no way to avoid these occasions of brokenness. Living life from day to day necessitates their occurrence.

Nouwen says "We are called to claim our unique brokenness, just as we have to claim our unique chosenness and our unique blessedness."  This should give us peace, hope and direction. Our brokenness is distinctive to each of us. It is through these experiences that we receive bread for the journey. We are like the reed which must be dried, hollowed out and carved in order to become a flute. Our music is played only through our brokenness. The one facet of our being that others can clearly relate to is that which has caused us pain. The one light that shines for others is our subsequent ability to live through it, make it to the other side, survive and then to thrive. Our brokenness can provide the lamp of hope for others. The healing eyes of The Savior of Zvenigorod urge us on.

Holy Thursday

Holy Thursday, or Maundy Thursday, is one of the most sacred days of the year. It is filled with mystery, symbolism and confusion. The most compelling image to me is that of Jesus washing the feet of his friends. He expresses the fullness of his love by pouring water into a basin and assuming the role of a servant. Only days before he had experienced Mary washing his own feet with water and her tears. This self giving is not only offered as a gesture of compassion but is accompanied by the direction to follow his example. He asks us to live our lives in service to others.

I will never forget the profound and personal affect that a Holy Thursday washing of feet had for me. I was about 30 years old when my life-long best friend, Steve Magin, went with me to a service at St. Elizabeth Hospital Chapel in our home town. The mass was going to be offered by Father C. B. Motsett. Father Motsett had been a significant person in Steve’s life and important in mine as well. He was the parish priest at St. Paul's Church and principal at Schlarman High School in Danville, Illinois when we were youngsters. His kindness, encouragement, civic leadership and love of sports had provided important guidance. Father Motsett was in his late seventies, and semi-retired, when we attended the Holy Thursday Mass that year. We were both pleased to see him. He was very popular in our home town and the church was filled. The old man saw Steve and I sitting among the flock and came over to greet us prior to the service. What an honor! His words, however, were almost shattering. “Will you boys kindly allow me to wash your feet?” We nodded in numb acceptance of his invitation. The time came for the ceremony and 12 men walked up to the alter where chairs had been arranged. We each removed our shoes and socks. Father Motsett slowly and gently bathed each of us. I felt unworthy and was overcome by so many emotions. There was a deep sense of how Jesus’ disciples must have felt. Here was a great man kneeling in front of me, washing my feet. I wanted to raise him up and wash his feet just like Peter had implored in the gospel story. Then I felt a great sense of calm and peace. Father Motsett was teaching us again, just as he had when we were kids. He was demonstrating the importance of serving others with kindness and humility. None of us is greater than the other.

I have tried to live out the call of servant leadership. It is never easy. So many occasions seem to demand elevating myself to higher positions, to command others to react to my directions, and to take charge. It is much more difficult to just be a good example and allow others to join my efforts. Jesus asks us to follow him. He sends us people like Father Motsett to remind us. He wants us to kneel and provide relief to each others wounds.

Feed My Sheep...A Holy Week Reflection

The story of Holy Thursday and early morning Good Friday are so filled with our human experience. It is hard not to identify with what is happening here because it is a story of success, celebration, love, bitterness, confusion, resentment, fear, anger and sadness. The full range of experience is contained in some twelve hours. The most incredible part for me, however, is that even this story ends in complete and unconditional forgiveness. It is among my favorite images.

At the end of the day in all of his human weakness and frailty, Peter denies and betrays his best friend. Not once, but three times. It has been offered up that the third time was in earshot of Jesus and that he turned to meet the eyes his brother. Peter must have expected sad disappointment in that gaze… or some fire of condemnation. Rather, those eyes were filled with compassion, love and understanding. There is a Russian Icon of Jesus that captures that moment which can be found in a book called “Behold The Beauty of The Lord” by Henri Nouwen. I am so moved by this painting. Peter retreats in shame. His forgiveness is reinforced several days later by a risen Christ who recalls the three denials with three questions, “Do you love me?” When these questions are followed by the directive, “Feed my Sheep”, Peter is given charge of the followers.

This is the powerful forgiveness and charge that is given to us today. We are called regardless of who or what we are. Called to rise above that which is ordinary and easy. Called to be useful to others. Called to service. We are frail, broken, tragic and lost…but in the final analysis…forgiven and loved. Forgiven and loved beyond any limitations of our thinking and imagination. This is a truth that we can all celebrate.