Betrayal at the Table

Few things cut more deeply than betrayal, whether in a business relationship, a friendship, or a marriage. Mark describes the meal which is both the Last Supper and the first Lord’s Supper as taking place in the context of betrayal. Mark 14:12–26 warns you of the sin of betrayal, summons you to heed the gracious warning Christ gives, and comforts you with the Savior who gave himself for you.

Beware of the sin of betrayal. The Son of Man will go just as it is written. Unlike many betrayals we experience, the Son of Man knows what is happening. He had foretold his betrayal, Mark 10:34. It is written (Psalm 41), and he goes as it is written. He is determined to fulfill the work the Father has given him. Psalm 41 may reflect the rebellion of Absalom and the betrayal by David’s advisor, Ahithophel, see 2 Samuel 15. It is David’s anguished cry over the treachery against him — but the Spirit of the Christ was at work in David as he wrote so that the Psalm becomes also the expression of the Lord. And though Jesus knew it was happening, that did not diminish the pain of the betrayal. This was one of the 12 who had been with him from early in his ministry, Mark 3:19. The Son of Man is moving towards the cross — and the action of Judas is a step in that journey. Although important to this event, Judas is not a major character in Mark’s account. Jesus wants a last few hours with his disciples before his death.

Your sin involves betrayal. Judas betrayed the Son of Man. He turned against the Messiah. We can speculate about the process of change in a disciple selected by Jesus. But whatever the process of disillusionment (was it finding out that there would not be the kind of kingdom Judas expected?), Judas had a crucial role in the arch-crime of history. It was the murder, not only of the only perfectly innocent man who ever lived, but the One who is the God-man, the Messianic Redeemer. As we will see in a moment, Jesus warns Judas severely. Dante’s Inferno pictures Judas in the innermost ring of the lowest level of hell, being gnawed by one of the three mouths of Satan, along with Brutus and Cassius, the betrayers and murderers of Caesar. Some have suggested that Dante was reflecting on the fractured state of Italy by placing Caesar’s betrayers there. The Bible doesn’t tell us just what the punishment of Judas in hell is, nor how it compares to other rebels against God. But it somehow strikes me the wrong way to put any other treachery on the same level as that of Judas. This sin breaks table fellowship. The Passover was a meal that celebrated God’s deliverance, the peace that he gave his people following their slavery in Egypt. Fellowship at a meal indicates peace. Look at Genesis 14 and the mysterious priest of Salem bringing bread and wine to greet Abram returning from battle. Jesus quotes Psalm 41:9 with the reference to betrayal by one who shared table fellowship, dipping his hand into the same common bowl as the Savior. Yet, in a sense, the sin of Judas was not unique. Was the betrayal all that different from what Peter did that same night, following his abandonment of Jesus (despite Peter’s protestations to the contrary) he denied his Lord three times, even calling down curses on himself? To some degree, much of our sin involves an element of betrayal. We know better than Judas did who Jesus is and what his work in our place involves. Yet we still turn against him in sin, despite knowing that it grieves him. We blot out of our minds whom we are sinning against as we satisfy the temptation of the moment. And Judas, as Ferguson suggests, is the man who continues in sin, not realizing that you can sin your way out of the grace of God. Sin ensnares and entangles, twining around you until you lose any desire to repent. We flirt with sin–and it has the power to destroy us.

“He whose parent is the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who does His will, has eaten His bread and will live eternally. But whoever is born of ‘the father, the devil’ eats the food of Satan….” “The sop which Jesus gives has the same effectiveness as the Word which God gives. That Word, also, never returns void; it achieves whatever pleases God and quickly effects the purpose for which God sent it. That Word forces choices upon men. It converts men, or it hardens them. It makes men bow, or it stiffens their necks in haughty obstinacy.”

K. Schilder, Christ in His Suffering, p. 176

But Mark’s account moves on. Pay attention to the gracious warning Christ gives. Heed the severity of the warning. Jesus predicts the betrayal, warning against it. And each of the disciples (Judas apparently included) asks incredulously, “Surely not I?” Jesus does not paint Dante’s graphic picture of torment. But he pronounces woe on that man, and understates: it would have been better for him had he not been born. As you appreciate that the essence of hell is separation from the love and favor of God, exposure only to his wrath and judgment, understand that the warning of Jesus applies to any who persist in rejecting the grace of God in Christ. Mark’s Gospel is a warning to anyone who thinks of himself as one of God’s people and yet continues to walk in persistent disobedience.

“Judas is the example par excellence of the man who believes that he can never sin his way out of the grace of God. We should remember him if we ever think we can decide the point at which we will stop sinning. Sin deceives as well as hardens. It leads us to that great hardness of heart and blindness of understanding which ignores the last amber light. Ultimately even the warnings of the Son of God through his word are silenced.

Sinclair B. Ferguson, Let’s Study Mark, p. 228

But in the warning is grace. Cast yourself on God’s grace. What if Judas had not seared his conscience? What if he had not allowed his greed and disappointment to harden himself against Christ’s warnings? What if, instead of asking, “Surly not I?” he had snatched his hand from the dish, thrown himself at the feet of Jesus, wept with the kind of tears that Peter shed late that night after the cock crowed, and cried, “Lord, it is I who have betrayed you! Can you still forgive me?” Would the Lord who forgave and restored Peter, the Savior who assured the thief on the cross who cried for Jesus to remember him (but who shortly before had joined his partner in mocking the Man crucified between them), would that Lord withhold forgiveness from a repentant Judas? No, it didn’t happen that way, and we need to be careful about speculation. At some point, unmarked in this Gospel, Judas leaves to reappear with those who arrest the Savior in the Garden of Gethsemane. The point is, the Savior warns you with the goal of summoning you to repent, to turn seeking his forgiveness and grace. Don’t avoid the warnings of Scripture. They are not hypothetical. They are real warnings to real people–us. And they are intended to drive you to the Savior. Mary, not her real name, who professes faith in Christ and seeks to follow him, heard a preacher tell her that the warning of Revelation 21:8 meant that she is lost, because she is guilty of those sins. Mary is living in fear of Christ’s return, for she hasn’t grasped in the way that she should, that the death and resurrection of Christ cleanse us from our sins, 1 Corinthians 6:9–11.

How can you be reassured? Look at what happens next.

Entrust yourself to the Savior who gave himself for you. Look to Christ in his death. Jesus points to the sacrifice he is about to offer for the sins of his disciples. He takes bread, breaks it, and says, “Take, eat. This is my body.” And he takes the cup, echoing Exodus 14, he calls it his blood of the covenant, and give it to them to drink. This is not a meal for super-saints. It is for sinners, sinners who know their guilt, and who turn to Christ. Scripture doesn’t give us an absolute answer as to the presence of Judas. But Peter, boastful, weak, about to swear that he never knew Jesus, Peter is there and partakes. James and John, who with Peter are about to doze instead of watching and praying with the Lord in the Garden, are present and partake. And those three and all the others who are about to flee in fear, partake. The sacrifice Christ offers covers your sins. And if your sins are covered by his blood, the meal is for you. Your treachery is covered by his work in your place. Mary, and you, need to understand and to trust in the work of Christ that provides complete forgiveness.

What Christ says and does looks even beyond his suffering and death.

Rejoice in your continuing fellowship with the risen Savior. Earlier in the meal Jesus had said that he was going as it was written. Now, having predicted his betrayal and having warned Judas, having instituted the meal that, by faith and the working of the Spirit in the Word takes us to Christ, now he speaks of the immanence of his death. He will not drink a cup of wine with his disciples again before his death. His death for sinners is at hand. But he will drink the cup anew in the kingdom of God. His death is not the end of the story. And that is why the Lord’s Supper, though indeed a memorial of his death, is much more than a memorial. It summons you to believe the good news that Jesus spoke, it calls you to continue to trust him. And it presents in visible form the fellowship that we have with the Savior who is no longer dead, but who lives and in whom we live. Your fellowship with the risen Lord speaks of the new life which you, as a new creation, have in him. You have died with Christ. You now live with him. Instead of calling you betrayers, he calls you his people, his brothers and sisters.

There was treachery and betrayal at the table as Judas reached into the bowl with the Savior. Though warned, he continued on his path of disobedience and unbelief — and perished. But at that same table the Savior spoke the good news of his death and resurrection in the place of sinners. He presented himself as the One whose blood cleanses you, the people of his covenant, of the guilt of your treachery and betrayal. As you heed his warning you experience, not judgment, but forgiveness and grace.

Tradition!

Tevye, in “Fiddler on the Roof,” asks, “How do we keep our balance?” The answer is: Tradition! It tells you how to eat, to sleep, to work, and what clothes to wear. You may smile, but traditions are important for you, also. And that’s not altogether bad. In Mark 7:1–23, Jesus contrasts mere human traditions with obedience to God.

Your traditions can nullify God’s Word. Traditions can be good or bad. Traditions are helpful. Like a habit, they can make life go more smoothly and pleasant. Traditions in a family can be very important in building a sense of family (everyone being home and sitting down together for dinner, Thanksgiving at Grandma’s). They can be helpful in a community, even in a church community, in drawing people together (an annual talent night, or Reformation night event). But traditions can also be dangerous. They can become a mere formality. What the Law of Moses required of the priests as they offered sacrifices (Exodus 30:17–21), the Pharisees practiced at each meal. The point was not hygiene, but ceremonial purification. The interchange in Mark 7:1–23 was triggered by the criticism by the Pharisees and other teachers of the law of Jesus for allowing his disciples to eat with unwashed hands. This incident marks an escalation of the conflict between Jesus and the leaders of Israel. The opponents are not simply local rabbis, but are teachers of Israel, come from Jerusalem. The conflict which will culminate in the death of Christ is intensifying. And Jesus is stern in his rejection of their position.

“To presume to be wiser than God and holier than the law of God is not sanctity but sanctimony, and sanctimony is a vice.” “He who today forbids what God allows will almost certainly tomorrow allow what God forbids. The reason is obvious. Because of his emphasis on the commandments of men he is in imminent peril of neglecting the law of God.”

R. B. Kuiper, The Glorious Body of Christ, p. 268

Tradition must not be followed for its own sake. God’s Word is the final standard. Tradition, in this case, in effect took on an authority equal to, or beyond God’s Word. And obedience to theses detailed regulations became the mark of those who were truly the people of God. Jesus affirms the authority of God, speaking in his Word, and contrasts that with the methodology of the Pharisees and scribes. He illustrates with a case in which the command of God to honor one’s parents (which includes respect and care for them, see Exodus 20:12; 21:17), is annulled by a grown child declaring his assets Corban, or dedicated to God, and thus unavailable for assisting his parents. At time this was apparently used in a technical way to allow the son to continue to use the asset, but still keep it out of bounds for helping the parent. The tradition of how the gift was to be used was allowed to trump the command of God. The quote from Isaiah 29 points to the heart of the problem. When the focus is on the traditions of men, worship and obedience to the Lord becomes lip service, an outward form, but leaving the heart and life untouched. External obedience, if that is all it is, is hypocrisy. Traditions which supplement the Law of God have a way of replacing it. Jesus points out that their traditions do away with the commandments of God. The sinful human heart is the same in Isaiah’s day, when our Lord walked in Galilee, and today.

“In their concern for the fulfillment of the letter of Scripture they forget that the Law was provided not for its own sake but to benefit men. It is an expression of God’s covenant faithfulness as well as of his righteousness and in no circumstance was obedience to one commandment intended to nullify another.”

William L. Lane, The Gospel According to Mark, NICNT, p. 252

Traditions of men can be superficial, but God deals with the heart of the matter. Inside out! Verse 15 is a saying of Jesus in proverbial form. It was spoken publicly to the crowds, and is the real answer to the objection raised in verse 2. He states that it is not what goes into a person which is defiling, but what comes out of him. To the disciples, verses 17–19, Jesus explains. Ceremonially unclean food does not truly defile a person. It simply enters the stomach and is processed. Jesus does not depreciate the reason for the laws of ceremonial purification. They were requirements for Old Testament Israel, and were given for important reasons. Primarily, they reflected the purity, the holiness of God, and were a constant reminder to the people that the guilt and pollution of their sin needed to be dealt with if they were to live in his presence. The real source of defilement comes from a fallen, corrupt heart. What comes out of the body, what has its source in the heart and has various forms of expression, is a long, ugly list of sins. Jesus probably does not give this list so that we can parse them in detail, determining the shades of difference between sexual immorality, adultery, and lewdness, or between deceit and slander. Rather, the point is that these are the things that come our of our hearts, that find expression in our thoughts, that corrupt our speech, that enslave our actions. To quote the classic line from the Pogo comic strip, “We have met the enemy, and it is us.” To be overly concerned about a failure of the disciples to observe the ceremonial washings required of the priests, while ignoring the sinful corruption of the heart, which God’s Word exposes, is horrible.

“[T]he concept of sin and the sense of sin is sharpened and deepened by Jesus. Precisely by moving away from human ordinances and going back to the law of God in the Old Testament, he again makes the law known to us in its spiritual character….”

Herman Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics, Vol. 3, p. 135

But there is good news here as well. The cleansing work of Jesus reaches out to all men. Mark points to an implication of Jesus’ words about food not making anyone unclean. He “declared all foods clean,” verse 19. Mark, writing after the death and resurrection of Christ, after Pentecost, and after the good news had begun to go to the Gentiles, understood, and made explicit for his readers, the meaning of what Jesus said. Keep in mind the barrier to the gospel created by the ceremonial laws and traditions. Before Peter could even entertain the thought of going to the house of Gentile Cornelius (even though he was a God-fearer), the Lord had to prepare him with the repetitive vision of Acts 10, and the direct command of the Lord to kill and eat. Food caused tensions in Antioch, Galatians 2. It was on the agenda in Acts 15. What the ascended Lord made explicit to the early church was simply the working out of what Jesus outlined in Mark 7. Yes, the ceremonial barriers are broken down, and Jew and Gentile alike have free access into the presence of God. But they (and we) have that access because Jesus has dealt with the heart of the matter of sinful guilt and corruption. He suffered, died, and rose to forgive our sins and declare us righteous in his sight. And he not only declares us “not guilty,” he also works in us by his Spirit, renewing our hearts, giving us the grace to recognize our sin, enabling us to turn from it to his glory. No longer are our lives characterized by that ugly list of sins (though we do fall back into some of them from time to time and need to continue to put to death the deeds of the flesh). Rather, 1 Corinthians 6:9–11 is the description of who we are in Christ.

Tradition or the Word of God? The choice should be easy. But when your life is lived, not on the basis of tradition, but out of the power of being united to the risen, ascended Lord, when your actions are being structured by the Word of God written, then you can develop habits, or traditions, of glorifying God in all that you do.

“It Is I!”

How well do you know Jesus? The Holy Spirit inspired Mark’s Gospel so that you could grow in knowing him. Mark 6:45–52 unpacks, both for the disciples and for you, something of who Jesus is.

Trust the Lord who reveals himself to you. Appreciate the mystery of the Son of God praying. Herod and the people had wondered who Jesus was: a prophet? Elijah? John the Baptist raised to life? Mark moves on to describe the martyrdom of John without giving an answer. But he then describes the compassion of Jesus in feeding the 5,000, an echo of God’s wilderness provision for his people. The incident on the lake gives a further answer. Now he sends away his disciples (he is going to pray alone). He dismisses the crowd. John’s fuller description of the even makes explicit the reasons only implied in Mark. The crowd is over 5,000 men — more than the adult male population of Capernaum. The crowd (would ‘mob” be the right word?), had run around the lake on foot to be near him (Mark 6:32), and were like sheep without a shepherd. It would not take much to stir up the crowd to rebellion against Rome, or for it to try to force Jesus to be their king in that undertaking. Jesus is the King (and more than that), but his mission was a greater one than a guerrilla war for independence. He had come to die, but not for that cause. So he dismisses the crowd. Not only has Jesus’ activity in feeding the people shown his divinity, the theophany on the lake is about to underscore that. But Jesus, whom Mark introduced to you as the Son of God, needs to be alone to pray. He left, not just the crowd, but his disciples. He needs to be alone with his Father in heaven. (Take the time to be alone with God in prayer–and help make time for others to do so as well.) Mark presents us with Jesus praying at crucial points in his messianic work, 1:35 and 14:32. He is God himself, but he is doing the will of his Father. Appreciate the mystery of who Christ is as well as of what he does.

“Jesus was a man of constant prayer, and yet he also sought special times of fellowship with his Father, when the strategy of his life and ministry might be reviewed. We need to follow that pattern. We need to help others to do so as well. Not all mothers, for example, can send their little disciples away in order to have time alone with God! Not all husbands realize that their wives need such times, as they do themselves. At the very lowest level, our Lord’s example is an encouragement to build seasons of special communion with God into our lives, and to do what we can to help others do so as well.

Sinclair Ferguson, Let’s Study Mark, p. 96
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