and it was night.

This and the postings that follow are a series of reflections that originally appeared here, on the Diocese of Dunedin website "worship" page

Wednesday in Holy Week

April 8th

READING. John 13:21-32

Jesus was troubled in spirit, and declared, “Very truly, I tell you, one of you will betray me.” The disciples looked at one another, uncertain of whom he was speaking. One of his disciples—the one whom Jesus loved—was reclining next to him; Simon Peter therefore motioned to him to ask Jesus of whom he was speaking. So while reclining next to Jesus, he asked him, “Lord, who is it?” Jesus answered, “It is the one to whom I give this piece of bread when I have dipped it in the dish.” So when he had dipped the piece of bread, he gave it to Judas son of Simon Iscariot. After he received the piece of bread, Satan entered into him. Jesus said to him, “Do quickly what you are going to do.” Now no one at the table knew why he said this to him. Some thought that, because Judas had the common purse, Jesus was telling him, “Buy what we need for the festival”; or, that he should give something to the poor. So, after receiving the piece of bread, he immediately went out. And it was night.

When he had gone out, Jesus said, “Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him. If God has been glorified in him, God will also glorify him in himself and will glorify him at once.

REFLECTION

Betrayal. So brutal a crime. And this in that most treasured of contexts, a meal amongst trusted loved ones. Manaakitanga invaded, spat upon. Dip it in the dish, my friend, then go, do your deed. We dreamed a dream together, and you have torn it to shreds and flushed it. Betrayal. It was night. In so many ways it was night. Night like the nighttime of Covid-19. Night like the knock of police at the door with sombre faces. Night like the moment the doctor warns us that the news is not good. Night. You’ve had moments of night, I’ve had moments of night. In Christ this is the beginning of darkest night; this is betrayal of perfect love, perfect justice, perfect hope. Betrayal drawn deep, deep into the love-filled heart of God. In the next three days we absorb glimpses of the loneliness of that darkest journey. “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” cries God.

I have little interest in metaphors about vicarious sacrifice, paying the devil, whatever. In this moment God-in-Christ enters a darkness; your darkness, my darkness, humanity and creation’s deepest darkness. Blood and guts and horror is part of it for sure, but betrayal and utter, utter aloneness that will descend upon the crucified heart of love, these are greater still.

We have the advantage of a glimpse forward. We’ll do the time these next few days—but we have practised the presence of God before. Deep in the DNA of our faith we know light will burst forth on Sunday. Let us do the hard yards these next few days, yet treasure the knowledge that light will dawn, that Covid-19 and hate and war and cancer and abuse will not have the final word. But let us do the hard yards, if only because then we can glimpse something of the pain of a suffering world and its inhabitants with whom we share our lives and for whom we ache in prayer.