The Teachings of Jesus

Sermon Eighty-seven

Matthew 26:14-29

(Jesus with the disciples at Passover)

by

Jim Bordwine, ThD

Introduction

In this current sermon series, we are concentrating on the teachings of Jesus from the Gospel of Matthew. Matthew begins by recording events related to the birth of Christ and then jumps to a report of the Lord’s temptation in the wilderness. From there to the account of the Savior’s crucifixion and resurrection, this book contains many records of the teaching Jesus provided for His disciples and, at times, to the crowds that gathered around Him.

Most recently, we entered the portion of this Gospel that deals with the last events of the Lord’s ministry. Having entered Jerusalem, Jesus has just completed a blistering condemnation of the scribes and Pharisees in which He names their transgressions one after another and leaves them with only one expectation, which is the wrath of God. Matthew then begin relating to us some of the private moments involving Jesus and His disciples.

Thinking back to all the wonderful things Jesus said and taught, and back to the various examples of His mercy toward those in need, and back to His encounters with His enemies—I find that Matthew has given us a tremendously instructive and edifying account of the Savior’s ministry. And, of course, the story would not be complete without the material we are now getting ready to consider—that material has to do with the last hours of the Savior’s life. I will admit that although I am quite familiar with the story, I always have a certain sense of dread when I reach the place where we find ourselves this morning.

I know that what happened to Jesus was for my good and I know it was God’s will. I know that without Him, I would have remained in my sin, condemned for all eternity. I know that the same fate awaited every other human being. I know the ministry of Jesus Christ was a wonderful display of the mercy and justice of God, the Almighty. But, I cannot shake the uneasy feeling I always have when I get to this particular part of the story—the part where I read of the actual events of those last few hours.

You may be thinking that you understand what I’m saying. You may be thinking that I am saying I’m uneasy because I just don’t like to read about how Jesus was mistreated and eventually put to death. That’s not it; that is not why I feel a certain dread, as I said before, when coming to this part of the story on the life of Christ. What makes me a bit uncomfortable is my fear that I will not feel the weight of what my salvation required of my Savior. I worry that, as I read these accounts that are filled with graphic descriptions, I will pass over them like any other story and not feel the burden in my soul of what Jesus endured and what Jesus gave for my sake.

I used to think that I should guard myself so that I didn’t have an overly emotional reaction to what I read; but I decided a long time ago that I was foolish to believe that. God has most definitely engaged my emotions in His act of redemption. I love Him for what He’s done and I feel shame when I fail to live rightly and I often have a sense of excitement when I think of what is to come—my emotions are very much involved in my apprehension of the story of my salvation. I don’t mean that salvation is chiefly about emotion or sentimentality—not at all—but I do mean that a sinner who understands what he was facing without the intercession of Jesus Christ is probably going to be moved—emotionally moved—by the consideration of his deliverance.

That is why this section of the Gospels makes me feel a little uneasy. I don’t want to read about the way Jesus was treated, I don’t want to read about the blows to His face and the insults hurled at Him by dogs; I don’t want to read of the nails piercing His flesh and of Him being suspended upon that cross—and then go about my merry way as if that sort of thing happens all the time. I don’t want to leave here this morning having preached just another sermon. This subject is so important, so precious, so essential. In His wisdom, God the Father ordained that we should have an account of what His Son endured for our sakes; I want this story to hit me as hard as it should, I want it to humble me, I want it to shake me loose from my fixation on this fallen world—at least long enough for me to react to the suffering of my Savior in an honorable fashion.

Do you understand what I’m saying? I don’t want to take for granted what Jesus did for me—and I fear that I will when I come to the Scriptures that tell me about that episode. And I fear the same thing for you. Have you reached that point where you can talk about the suffering of Christ or hear sermons about the suffering of Christ or read about the sufferings of Christ and remain largely unaffected? That is not a good place for us to be in our spiritual lives, but I suspect it is a common condition for many believers.

If you knew that your father, your brother, your husband, or your son had been arrested, beaten repeatedly, spat upon, and mocked all because he was defending your honor, would you ever be able to think about that event without a profound emotional reaction? Would that story not move you to sober reflection each and every time it was rehearsed? What about this story? What about this story of Jesus submitting Himself to all that and much more because He loved you and wanted to see you freed from the shackles of sin? What He gained for you is infinitely more valuable than what any human being could ever achieve.

I wonder sometimes if I’ve become so callous, so used to the story, so distanced from the sense of my own wretched condition that the actions of Jesus—the selfless acts of Jesus and the loving willingness of Jesus—no longer move me as in the early days of my regeneration. I don’t want the story of Christ’s suffering and death to become “old” or routine. And that is why I am a bit hesitant when I reach this part of Matthew’s Gospel.

We’re at that point where the hardest part of the work of Jesus is now upon Him; we’re at that point where He is finding Himself utterly alone—with not a single man standing with Him, not a single voice raised in His defense. We coming to those events that Isaiah, in that unforgettable chapter 53, described as Jesus being “despised and forsaken,” becoming “acquainted with grief.” The prophet depicted this part of the story as Jesus being pierced for my transgressions, crushed for my iniquities, chastened for my well-being, and scourged for my healing.

Isaiah tells of a lone Figure enduring the worst kind of treatment and humilitation—and all for the sins of others; all for my sins. The Bible presents the suffering and death of Christ in the most disturbing terms; we aren’t left to wonder about what He faced, what He felt, or what was done to Him. And, therefore, to the degree that pleases God, to the degree that it is possible, I want to comprehend the agony of my Savior—not experience it myself, of course, for that is, thanks be to God, unnecessary—but I want to have the fullest appreciation possible for what Jesus did for me.

The Text

Matthew 26:14 Then one of the twelve, named Judas Iscariot, went to the chief priests 15 and said, “What are you willing to give me to betray Him to you?” And they weighed out thirty pieces of silver to him. 16 From then on he began looking for a good opportunity to betray Jesus.

The Teaching

Have you ever been betrayed by someone you trusted, someone you treated well, someone who gave the impression of being a friend and supporter? Many of us here this morning have had such an experience. It is nearly impossible to go through life without having such an occurrence. It is one of the most painful episodes you’ll ever endure. There is something fundamentally wicked about the betrayal of trust—and that is what Jesus experienced just hours before He went to the cross. He knew it was coming, but Scripture itself does not allow that fact to minimize the awful nature of what was done to Him.

A trusted companion, a man given all the benefits of being near the Savior, a man who had every help one might imagine to avoid taking this course of action, does in fact betray Jesus to His enemies. This is the beginning of a period when Jesus will experience not only betrayal of the most insidious kind, but also desertion as those men who once loudly and confidently declared their undying loyalty leave Him alone. He will also know abuse and humiliation; finally, He will know the unique torment of crucifixion. Then, while hanging on the cross, Jesus will experience what we will never experience and that is divine abandonment when the Father turns His back to the Son and allows Him to bear the weight of our sin upon His own shoulders.

That is the point where Jesus cries out, asking His Father “why have You forsaken Me?”. And it begins, as I’ve said, with this scene related to us by Matthew. Judas Iscariot, “one of the twelve,” as Matthew labels him, contacts the leaders among the Lord’s enemies and offers to hand over the Savior for a price. “One of the twelve”—Mathew means one of the trusted disciples, one of those who have seen Jesus do the miraculous, one of those who witnessed the incredible compassion of Jesus on many occasions, one of those men who had received patient instruction from the Savior. It is “one of the twelve”—not a stranger—who betrays Jesus.

While it does nothing to excuse the abhorrent behavior of the religious leaders, notice that Matthew specifies that Judas sought them out and suggested this betrayal. For a price, he told them, “I will hand over the One you despise.” The word translated “betray” (paradidomi) is used to describe the act when one man gives another into the hands of an enemy. In this type of context, the word has a definite connotation of evil intent. Judas was purposely handing Jesus over knowing that the religious leaders had one thing in mind and that was torture and, if possible, execution.

This wasn’t a case where Judas supposed Jesus would have a rough night and then be released in the morning. He knew what would be done to the Master, yet he deliberately pursued this course and all he asked in return was a bit of money. Listen to the description of the exchange between Judas and the religious leaders as recorded in Luke 22:

22: 1 Now the Feast of Unleavened Bread, which is called the Passover, was approaching. 2 The chief priests and the scribes were seeking how they might put Him to death; for they were afraid of the people. 3 And Satan entered into Judas who was called Iscariot, belonging to the number of the twelve. 4 And he went away and discussed with the chief priests and officers how he might betray Him to them. 5 They were glad and agreed to give him money. 6 So he consented, and began seeking a good opportunity to betray Him to them apart from the crowd.

Judas, as I noted before, made contact with the chief priests and scribes for the specific purpose of arranging a deal in which he would be paid to betray the Lord. The leaders were already pondering how they were going to put Jesus to death when Judas arrived with a solution—one that would avoid the crowds and the attention which the chief priests feared. Judas and the Jews had a meeting in which the subject of conversation was the desired death of Jesus Christ. The chief priests could not have been happier when one of the Lord’s own disciples came to them. This was the very best they could hope for—an insider, one willing to reveal secrets and break bonds and dishonor himself.

Notice that Luke simply says: “They were glad—glad indeed! Judas had just brought them a solution too good to be true. They were glad, Luke writes, “and agreed to give him money.” Judas left that meeting with thirty pieces of silver and from that point sought an opportunity to betray Jesus to them in secret, an opportunity where Jesus would be apart from the crowd and in relative isolation.

For over two thousand years, we have marveled at what Judas Iscariot did that night. He has been analyzed from every possible perspective. Many have sought to find motivation. But I ask: What possible motivation could he have had? This was not the ordinary act of betrayal. Judas knew the claims Jesus made and he saw evidence of the truthfulness of those claims. When we ask: “What kind of man does such a thing?” or “What kind of mind must you have to process such a scheme?” or “How dark must the heart be of the man who would do such a thing to Jesus?”, the answer is not to be found in our ordinary experiences in this world. The answer was given to us plainly by Luke: “Satan entered into Judas who was called Iscariot.”

I won’t pretend to understand fully what this statement means. I know what Scripture says and nothing more. Obviously, the action of Judas was demonic in nature, yet he is held fully responsible. Judas was open to the influence of Satan and did not immediately banish the wicked thought of betrayal as soon as it occurred in his mind. Instead, he let the thought develop and it grew stronger and stronger until he acted it out.

Maybe the first time Judas had an evil thought toward Jesus was in the context of some jealousy he felt because of the way the other disciples related to the Savor; or maybe the first wicked thought in his mind came when he was rebuked by Jesus for some unrighteous statement or act. We don’t know. We do know, however, that Scripture warns us more than once about the danger of nurturing temptation. It will, in the end, bring about destruction. In fact, in his epistle, James refers to the end result of unchecked temptation as “death.” That is how serious it is and how spiritually destructive it is.

Judas let the thought of hatred toward Jesus linger until it became so strong that he went to the enemies of the Lord and made that offer: “What are you willing to give me to betray Him to you?” Imagine how ungodly that sentence is when Jesus came to do good for us all. Imagine how wicked that statement is in light of all the blessings Jesus gave to people, all the sick He healed, all the hungry He fed, all the fearful He calmed. Imagine how evil that question is when you consider that Jesus, the Son of God, was here on this earth to save us. And here is a man offering, he thinks, to stop what Jesus was doing and what He intended to do, in return for some reward. It is difficult to comprehend the intensely malevolent character of this act against Jesus.

The focus now turns to the Passover meal shared by Jesus and His disciples. The disciples asked Jesus where He wished to have the Passover meal (v. 17). He replied that they should go into the city to a certain man and tell him Jesus says: “My time is near; I am to keep the Passover at your house with My disciples.” (v. 18) The disciples did what Jesus commanded and the Passover meal was prepared. (v. 19)

Continuing, Matthew writes:

20 Now when evening came, Jesus was reclining at the table with the twelve disciples. 21 As they were eating, He said, “Truly I say to you that one of you will betray Me.” 22 Being deeply grieved, they each one began to say to Him, “Surely not I, Lord?” 23 And He answered, “He who dipped his hand with Me in the bowl is the one who will betray Me. 24 The Son of Man is to go, just as it is written of Him; but woe to that man by whom the Son of Man is betrayed! It would have been good for that man if he had not been born.” 25 And Judas, who was betraying Him, said, “Surely it is not I, Rabbi?” Jesus said to him, “You have said it yourself.”

I find this scene chilling. The most notorious act of betrayal has been set in motion and the offender takes his place before the Savior along with the other disciples. This was a most solemn time as Jesus was sharing His last meal with His disciples. And this meal is a Passover meal; it is being held as part of the commemoration of that event in Egypt where God delivered His people from captivity by demonstrating the nature of His strength and command over all creation. On that night, each covenant household slaughtered a lamb and applied the blood to their dwelling. As the angel of death passed over the land, he took the firstborn of every household except where the blood was visible.

That was, of course, a dramatic picture of how shed blood protects. It prefigured the day when the Lamb of God, Jesus Christ, would shed His blood in order to protect His people from death of a much worse kind—eternal spiritual death. Only in the households of God’s people was the horror of death absent that night. All those unprotected were simply waiting while death moved across the region without mercy.

On this evening, the Lamb is reclining at the table with His men. He will soon pay a price that will forever guarantee the safety of His people. That for which several generations had longed is now unfolding. It will not be a pleasant night for Jesus, though what He endures and what He gives will bring to the world the purest and most glorious joy ever known. And in that context, Jesus makes a shocking announcement: “Truly I say to you that one of you will betray Me.” (v. 21) I think we are safe in assuming that the disciples may have been thinking of many things, but the betrayal of Jesus was not one of them.

According to John’s Gospel, Jesus had just gone from disciple to disciple washing their feet before He made the announcement I just read. The Savior demonstrated amazing humility and used that act to remind His disciples of their duty to serve one another. Once again, it is in that context that Jesus reveals the treachery of Judas. The humble, mild, loving Savior, moving from man to man washing their dusty feet is a sharp contrast to Judas—reclining there himself—who has just made a pact with those who hate Jesus.

Naturally, the disciples were troubled by what Jesus said. Matthew says they were “deeply grieved.” (v. 22) While we might find fault with these men on many occasions, it’s never because they disliked Jesus or wished Him harm. They were understandably bothered, therefore, when Jesus spoke of a betrayal, especially since He declared that one of them would commit that heinous act.

Each man asked that frightening question: “Surely not I, Lord?” They had learned to trust the word of the Savior. When He said a betrayal was in the works, they believed Him but each man hoped with all his being that he would not be the one. The only answer Jesus gave was rather cryptic: “He who dipped his hand with Me in the bowl is the one who will betray Me.” (v. 23) This doesn’t mean that Judas was the only one eating with Jesus. It means that Jesus is underscoring the fact that one of the men sharing this meal with Him is the transgressor. Jesus is saying: “This man is pretending to be My comrade; He is pretending to be one of you.” This makes the accusation all the more unsettling. Which of the men who had labored with Jesus would be the one who hands Him over to His enemies?

Jesus spoke an ominous word against the betrayer. He was going to do what He had come to do, but “woe to that man by whom the Son of Man is betrayed! It would have been good for that man if he had not been born.” (v. 24) The fame of Jesus will be rooted in His sacrifice of Himself for sinners; the fame of Judas will be rooted in an act of unbelievable treachery. The name of Jesus will be associated with a display of the love of God; the name of Judas will be associated with a display of shocking duplicity.

The question asked by the disciples, “Surely not I, Lord?”, was provoked by genuine astonishment. Judas also asks a question, but his is a continuation of deception: “Surely it is not I, Rabbi?” (v. 25) “How much does Jesus know?”, Judas must have asked himself. He could think of only one thing to say and it was meant to fake his innocence. But, of course, Jesus knew the whole story. “You have said it yourself,” came the calm reply from the Savior. John tells us that Jesus then dismissed Judas to do what he planned to do and Jesus is left alone with the eleven.

Application

Having rehearsed this story with me, what is the feeling in your heart at this moment? I think most of us share a few common thoughts. We are disgusted by the thought of what Judas did; we may have a renewed sense of sympathy for Jesus. Those are natural reactions. We hear this account, knowing that it is just the beginning of the mistreatment Jesus received, and we are rightly disturbed. This betrayal was the beginning of great pain for Jesus that night. It was part of the whole experience through which He would pass.

There is more to think about, however, than the actions of Judas. As I consider this story, I have to confess that the issue of my loyalty to the Savior comes to mind—at least for a brief moment. How can I read about what Judas did without thinking of my relationship with Jesus and about my profession of love for Him and my declarations of commitment? I’m not in danger of becoming a Judas, but I cannot listen to what happened to Jesus without thinking about my relationship with Him.

Betrayal can happen by degree—it doesn’t always have to be the most outrageous or the most destructive act possible. What Judas did was the ultimate betrayal. That is something I’ll never repeat. But what about something short of that? What have I done when I sin except commit an act of betrayal? In sin, I am denying Christ. I’m saying, for that moment, that I don’t know Him or that I don’t care to abide by His words. Every sin is, once again, an act of betrayal. It is not permanent in its affect, but that’s only because Christ will not let go of us.

I have to face the unpleasant truth, therefore, that, while I am quick to profess love and loyalty to Jesus Christ, I cannot go a single week with committing treason against Him. I have to face the truth that my days bring many temptations and I don’t always stand against them successfully. Sometimes I fall; sometimes I give in. Sometimes I betray the love I’ve received from Jesus. And I know I’m not the only one.

What did you say or do just this past week that was contrary to the will of your Savior? What did you say or do that amounted to a denial of Him? Did you act like a sinner rather than a saint at some point? Did you remain silent when you should have spoken? What did you do that amounts to a contradiction of who and what you claim to be?

What Judas did was horrible and unique. It is an act never to be repeated. But let us not think that our acts of disloyalty—our acts of disobedience, in other words—are nothing simply because they don’t match that notorious example. The issue here is trustworthiness. We carry the name of Christ with us every moment; we carry His name with us in all of our activities and in all of our conversations—those that are public and those that are private. Don’t fool yourself into thinking that disowning Christ in any of those situations is an unimportant matter.

If you take anything from this story, let it be a serious reflection on your life. Are you trustworthy when it comes to your relationship with Jesus Christ? Are you carrying His name with distinction? Is His love for you evident in the way your love others?

Young people, you’re out in the world often. You work, you go to school, you hang out with others. Is there any question about your loyalty to Christ? Is it clear to all that you are His and you will abide by His will? Are others seeing that you are dedicated, first of all, to your Savior?

Ladies, what are you known for among your friends? Are you known for a Christ-like countenance? Is it obvious to all that you belong to Him? Men, I ask you the same questions. What distinguishes you in the view of others? Is it your godliness? Is it your self-control? Is your relationship with Christ abundantly evident or do you sometimes give mixed signals? Are you trustworthy as one claiming to be bound to the Savior?

All of us who have been born again should so live that there is no doubt regarding our redeemed status. Our lives should be a testimony of loyalty to Christ and at no point should we allow ourselves to give evidence of betraying the One who gave Himself for us.

Let’s pray…

Communion hymn

Conclusion

I understand that living in this fallen world is a constant challenge for a Christian. I know that my questions before the hymn were pointed, but they were not unrealistic. According to the Bible, we really should be able to live free from the mastery of sin now that we are born from above. Much of the problem we face is not ability but willingness. We are able to tell the truth always, but are we willing? We are able to refrain from viewing inappropriate material, but are we willing? We are able to set aside our own desires for the sake of another, but are we willing? We are able to live each week as loyal followers of the Savior, but are we willing?

This sacrament is such a help when considering this issue. It’s a help because it puts before us anew what Jesus did for us. It declares that He gave His life for mine and what He did was accepted by the Father on my behalf. And it declares that my Savior is alive right now and is watching over me and guiding me to heaven. This sacrament encourages us, therefore, to be what we are supposed to be; and it assures us that we are not alone in this journey. Our Savior is with us every step of the way. This sacrament is His pledge to you that He has not abandoned you and never will. He is with you to give you strength and to forgive your sins and to renew your joy.

Just after the events we studied in this sermon today, Matthew writes this:

Matthew 26:26 While they were eating, Jesus took some bread, and after a blessing, He broke it and gave it to the disciples, and said, “Take, eat; this is My body.” 27 And when He had taken a cup and given thanks, He gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you; 28 for this is My blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for forgiveness of sins. 29 But I say to you, I will not drink of this fruit of the vine from now on until that day when I drink it new with you in My Father’s kingdom.”