By Reverend Laurie DeMott

The practical reason for the seemingly untimely reading is that I have been preaching a series on the disciples and because Advent begins next week, this is the last sermon of that series. I've talked about Peter and James and John, Matthew, Philip, and even the women with Jesus so how can I conclude a series on the disciples without mentioning the most infamous of the 12, Judas? To ignore Judas is to ignore the disciple whose failure makes the commitment of the others so astonishing by contrast.

That's the practical reason for talking about Judas today. But I would also argue (and I will) that as strange as it may seem, rather than being out of sync with the season, in fact, Judas' story might be the most appropriate of all for Thanksgiving Sunday, because his life is a lesson in the power of gratitude and the danger that lies in its absence.

And so, let us take a closer look at the life of Judas Iscariot. As I have become a bit tired of saying and you are undoubtedly tired of hearing, we don't really know that much about the disciples and Judas is no exception. Scholars, however, have made a few guesses about his background based on the tiny bit of information we do have. The name Judas was an important name for the Jews in the first century and would have been bestowed as proudly upon a new born son as a Nelson or a Martin might be given to an African-American child today. Judas was derived from the name Judah. Judah was one of the twelve sons of Jacob and his tribe gave its name to the southern Kingdom of Judah. Moreover, another Judas, Judas Maccabeus, led a revolt against the Seleucid Empire in 167 BC to establish a brief period of Jewish independence remembered even today in the celebration of Chanukah (to really mix our holidays). So, in the first century a young Jewish man bearing the name of Judas would feel the mantle of history around his shoulders.

And so whatever Judas may have become in later life, we know that early on, he exhibited the promise of his name. When Jesus first met Judas, Jesus saw something in this man that led him to call Judas to join his inner circle, and Judas responded to that call. Perhaps Judas followed because he liked Jesus' talk of the coming of a new Kingdom, and he thought that Jesus was a revolutionary like his namesake, Judas Maccabeus. Or maybe Judas liked the sense of belonging to an exclusive group of favored disciples. Or maybe he came with Jesus because of a simple longing for the assurance of his own salvation. Whatever led him to follow, we know that Judas stuck with Jesus for three years. He traveled from village to village with him; he listened to Jesus' teaching, he learned to heal and to preach and to cast out demons; he dreamed along with the others of the coming kingdom; and he was so trusted among the twelve that he was given charge of their common purse.

And then Judas gave it up, seemingly in an instant, betraying his teacher for thirty pieces of silver.

Only, I don't think it was in an instant. Jesus knew the betrayal was coming. In those last few months he had sensed the restlessness of Judas, maybe in the way Judas would no longer meet the master's eyes, or maybe it was the scowl which had become all too common on Judas' face. There were rumors among the disciples that Judas was dipping into the common purse keeping some for himself, and only days before the events in the Garden of Gethsemane, Judas exploded in a fit of temper because a woman, in an act of devotion, poured an expensive ointment on the head of Jesus. Maybe it was the waste of money which caused Judas' anger to flare, or maybe it was the act of devotion because he saw there a compassion which he himself was increasingly unable to feel. Instead of the political revolution Judas had expected, Jesus had talked about personal sacrifice and a heavenly kingdom. Instead of being part of an exclusive elite, Judas was forced to rub elbows with all kinds of misfits, outcasts, and rug rats. Over the three years, Judas' heart had become so crowded with resentments, irritation, petty jealousies, and disappointments, that there was no longer room there for love. Judas looked upon the darkness of his own heart compared to the light shining from the heart of that woman kneeling before Jesus with the ointment and maybe he could not bear the sight of himself. He had only two choices: he could admit then and there the ruin that he had become and ask for Christ's forgiveness, or he could deny it all and angrily blame his condition on the rest of the world. Judas chose denial and he sold his soul for thirty pieces of silver.

The story is told of a man who happened upon a barn stocked with great piles of seeds. The seeds were marked "envy", "greed", "anger", "hatred", "discouragement," and "resentment". Suddenly Satan strode through the door and said to the man, "Ah, I see you have found the seeds that I sow in the hearts of men and women. These seeds," Satan said proudly. "will flourish in most any heart."

"Most any heart?" the man pressed.

"Yes," Satan reluctantly admitted. "There is one place where I cannot get any of those seeds to take root."

"And where is that?" asked the man.

"In a thankful heart," Satan sighed, "In a thankful heart, there is not enough soil for these seeds to grow."

Judas' life is a lesson in the power of gratitude and the danger of its absense. It is no coincidence that we use words like "cultivate" when we talk about cultivating an attitude of thanksgiving because just like a newly plowed field, our hearts are ready ground for planting -- our hearts will not remain fallow ground but they will resolutely grow whatever we plant there. And so every time you choose to feel disappointment in others, you plant seeds of disappointment in your heart that will push deep into the soil and take root. Every time you blame other people for your unhappiness, the seeds of anger burrow down into your heart and grow forth into the brambles of resentment. Every time you give way to jealousy, pettiness, irritation, or judgment of others, you are planting and nourishing seeds that will grow a hundred fold in your heart and will eventually choke out your capacity for love and happiness.

Of course, it's not easy in our day to day lives to keep from feeling discouraged or frustrated with others and so you might think that if our only hope lies in not feeling such feelings, we would all be doomed to follow Judas on the path to self-destruction. But there is another way of making sure that even if we occasionally feel such irritations, they will not be able to take root in our hearts and that is to first conscientiously sow the field of our hearts with so many seeds of thanksgiving that there is no room left for anything else to sprout.

In our Wednesday book group, we just finished reading "The Year of Living Biblically" by A. J. Jacobs. Jacobs spends one year trying to literally live the laws of the Bible and at the end of the book, he concludes that the one law he would like to make a permanent part of his life is the command to give thanks. He writes:

"Today before tasting my lunch of hummus and pita bread, I stand up from my seat at the kitchen table, close my eyes, and say in a hushed tone: 'I'd like to thank God for the land that he provided so that this food might be grown.' Technically, that's enough. That fulfills the Bible's commandment. But while in thanksgiving mode, I decide to spread the gratitude around: 'I'd like to thank the farmer who grew the chickpeas for this hummus. And the workers who picked the chickpeas. And the truckers who drove them to the store. And the old Italian lady who sold the hummus to me at Zingone's deli and told me 'Lots of love.' Thank you.'

"Now that I type it," he writes,"it sounds like an overly earnest Oscar speech for best supporting Middle Eastern spread. But saying it feels good... The [Thanksgiving] prayers are helpful... They make me feel more connected, more grateful, more grounded, more aware of my place in this complicated hummus cycle... Basically they help me get outside of my self-obsessed cranium."

Judas chose to remain within his self-obsessed cranium hoarding his resentments and nourishing the seeds of his own dissatisfaction. But even then, his self-destruction was not inevitable. Yes, his anger, his resentments, and jealousies led him to the worst betrayal in history, but as it turned out, as bad as Judas' sin was, God was stronger still. God's best proved even more powerful than Judas' worst and God was able to bring life and light out of that darkest of moments.

In fact, if you look at the gospel story carefully, you will realize that Judas was not the only one who sinned greviously that night. Peter, who we think of as the greatest of the disciples, narrowly escaped competing with Judas for the title of the worst. Peter ran away from Jesus in his hour of need only minutes after declaring his steadfast commitment. Peter may not have betrayed Jesus but he denied him, denied ever knowing him, spoke not a word in his defense, and left him to hang on the cross all alone.

Peter and Judas were both too consumed with themselves that night -- too obsessed with their own fears and resentments to think about Jesus' suffering, but Judas didn't stick around after the crucifixion to discover the forgiveness that waited for him on the other side. Peter did. And that is the only difference between the two.

Because Peter had learned what Judas had never been able to learn and that was the lesson of thanksgiving. During his years of walking with Jesus, Peter too had struggled with Jesus' message; Peter had given voice to his resentments, had been frustrated with Jesus' talk of sacrifice. He had looked for glory along with Judas and received only the demands of discipleship, but each time Peter went one way while Jesus went the other, Jesus had forgiven him and you could see the gratitude in Peter's eyes. Judas nursed his resentments but Peter nourished his gratitude. And in the end, Peter's thankful heart gave him the strength to believe that even in the darkest moment of his life, there would still be forgiveness and renewal awaiting him.

In 1636, amid the darkness of the Thirty Years' War, a German pastor, Martin Rinkart, buried five thousand of his parishioners in one year. His parish was ravaged by war, death, and economic disaster and yet in the heart of that darkness, he sat down and wrote this table grace for his children:

"Now thank we all our God with heart and hands and voices;
Who wondrous things had done, in whom His world rejoices.
Who, from our mother's arms, hath led us on our way
With countless gifts of love and still is ours today."

This is a man who knew that God's best is more powerful than humankind's worst and that when we believe that and constantly cultivate a heart of thanksgiving -- gratitude for God's forgiveness, gratitude for compassion and mercy, gratitude for the power of goodness over evil, gratitude for the possibly of resurrection -- when we cultivate a heart of thanksgiving, the seeds of gratitude that we plant will blossom into a confidence in the enduring grace of God which will see us through any darkness until the light shall shine once again

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1A.J. Jacobs The Year of Living Biblically p. 95-96