Judas Iscariot - Spy Wednesday Holy Week 2011

 Mass readings for today, Spy Wednesday are here

Click here for a poem about Judas
It's a long one !

 Extract from today's Gospel from Matthew

One of the Twelve, who was called Judas Iscariot,
went to the chief priests and said,
“What are you willing to give me
if I hand him over to you?”
They paid him thirty pieces of silver,
and from that time on he looked for an opportunity to hand him over.....

Amen, I say to you, one of you will betray me.”
Deeply distressed at this,
they began to say to Him one after another,
“Surely it is not I, Lord?”

He said in reply,
“He who has dipped his hand into the dish with me
is the one who will betray me.
The Son of Man indeed goes, as it is written of him,
but woe to that man by whom the Son of Man is betrayed.
It would be better for that man if he had never been born.”
Then Judas, his betrayer, said in reply,
“Surely it is not I, Rabbi?”
He answered, “You have said so.”

Video based on today's Psalm 69 


God help us to find our confession;
The truth within us which is hidden from our mind;
The beauty or the ugliness we see elsewhere
But never in ourselves;
The stowaway which has been smuggled
Into the dark side of the heart,
Which puts the heart off balance and causes it pain,
Which wearies and confuses us,
Which tips us in false directions and inclines us
        to destruction,
The load which is not carried squarely
Because it is carried in ignorance.
God help us to find our confession.
Help us across the boundary of our understanding.
Lead is into the darkness that we may find what
        lies concealed;
That we may confess it towards the light;
That we may carry our truth in the centre of our heart;
That we may carry our cross wisely
And bring harmony into our life and our world.

Nicelle Davis Poem 

The Tree Judas Chose
was some ornamental thing—shape of a kidney—flowers veining over
its short and red-twisted trunk. Spent his
morning watching the long
tongued carpenter-bees
suckle its blossoms.
As the Redbud wept its violet blooms, he caught the drops
in his mouth—bruised their petals with his
teeth, searching for that hushed
light. Ate until his
stomach ached
from the bitter juices. Lips stained blue, he began to vomit
a mellifluent river. The ground softened by his
currents, turned to flesh. He built a body
from this golden earth— a face
that resembled Jesus.
Before he could kiss the honey lips, a swarm of flies began
to drink the shape away. Their wings shining
like silver coins tossed into the air. He
devoured them in an attempt
to taste sweetness.
When he jumped, his soul broke into a thousand pieces—an army
of snakeflies humming—a chorus of apologies dying
in small increments—like a lesson in letting go
learned one fall at a time.

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