Given the almost ironic setting, scholar Frederick Niedner asks:
We can assume no one looked for Judas. And it’s worse than that. Every celebration of Holy Communion includes Judas’ betrayal. Remember the words? In the night of his betrayal, our Lord Jesus took bread. In the night of his betrayal. A betrayal of course means there was a betrayer, yet so dark and shameful was his act that down through the centuries Judas is never named in the Holy Sacrament. His place at the Lord’s Table remains empty. But should it remain empty forever?
I am giving you a new command. You must love each other, just as I have loved you. But the question is, how does Jesus love us? What is the extent of the love of God?
Christian counselor Dennis Linn, tells a story about how his understanding of love was expanded by in one counseling session with Hilda:
The counselor thought to himself, "God will probably send your son to hell." But he didn't want to tell Hilda that. He was glad that his... training had taught him ... to [instead] ask ..., "What do you think?"
"Well," Hilda replied, "I think that when you die, you appear before the judgment seat of God. If you have lived a good life, God will send you to heaven. If you have lived a bad life, God will send you to hell." Sadly, she concluded, "Since my son has lived such a bad life, if he were to die without repenting, God would certainly send him to hell." Although Linn tended to agree with her, he didn't want to say, "Right on, Hilda! Your son would probably be sent to hell." He was again grateful for his theological training which taught him a second strategy: when you don't know how to solve a theological problem, then let God solve it. So he said to Hilda, "Close your eyes. Imagine that you are sitting next to the judgment seat of God. Imagine also that your son has died with all these serious sins and without repenting. Your son has just arrived at the judgment seat of God. Squeeze my hand when you can imagine that."
A few minutes later Hilda squeezed his hand. She described to him the entire judgment scene. Then he asked her, "Hilda, how does your son feel?" Hilda answered, "My son feels so lonely and empty." He asked Hilda what she would do. She said, "I want to throw my arms around my son." She lifted her arms and began to cry as she imagined herself holding her son tightly. Finally, when she had stopped crying, he asked her to look into God's eyes and watch what God wanted to do. God stepped down from the throne, and just as Hilda did, embraced Hilda's son. And the three of them, Hilda, her son, and God, cried together and held one another. Counselor Linn was stunned. [Right then and there he realized that] God must love us at least as much as the person who loves us the most. From Good Goats: Healing Our Image of God, by Dennis, Sheila, and Matthew Linn [Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1994, pages 8-11]
A mother’s love never gives up, but rather suffers, longs and prays for the nothing but the well-being of her child. If a mother can love that much, then surely God must at least be like that, loving unconditionally--love with no strings attached. But I am giving you a new command. You must love each other, just as I have loved you. And then Jesus went out to die—even for Judas.
The Church in every generation needs to learn how to do that—how to love unconditionally, like Jesus does. What shall we do about those other Judases who wound our lives—those who no longer visit our homes, sit at our table? What of those who no longer come to church here, having stomped off in anger, or have betrayed their union with us for the sake of some other need, some other church? And what of those who no longer feel welcome here at all because due to sin, they wander, like Judas, lost in a degenerate midnight of the spirit, offending nearly every one? How far should our love, mercy, and forgiveness go?
Well, our love ought to be at least as much as mother’s love for a lost child. We are living too superficially if we think that merely judging and condemning sinners is the work of the Christian. We are on, not holy ground, but dangerous ground, whenever we condemn another. My rule of thumb is this: whatever most angers us in others, is exactly what secretly troubles us most about ourselves. If the truth be told, we all have some Judas in us, we have each betrayed and will betray at some time or another, the wondrous love of the Savior. And this realization of our real and terrible sin is a crisis of the spirit, if we take God seriously. For as long "as [any] Judas remains out there in the night, wandering alone…there will be tears and aching in the community where his place is still set at the table, but where he does not sit. When he has been found, then we can know that we, too, [at our very worst] shall have been found, and forgiven, and loved." (Niedner. Emphasis mine)
But I am giving you a new command. You must love each other, just as I have loved you. Jesus didn’t die on the cross to make good people better. He died to extend God’s love to real sinners. In the Church this ought to be celebrated with great joy and wonder: Christ loves sinners, even the worst. And so, dear Church, must we. It’s time to put up the banner: Welcome home, Judas! Amen.