"Surely not me, Lord?"

So the disciples did as Jesus had directed them and prepared the Passover. When evening came, Jesus was reclining at the table with the Twelve. And while they were eating, he said, “Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me.”

They were very sad and began to say to him one after the other, “Surely you don’t mean me, Lord?”

Jesus replied, “The one who has dipped his hand into the bowl with me will betray me. The Son of Man will go just as it is written about him. But woe to that man who betrays the Son of Man! It would be better for him if he had not been born.”

Then Judas, the one who would betray him, said, “Surely you don’t mean me, Rabbi?” Jesus answered, “You have said so.”

You know what it’s like when somebody “says the wrong thing” – a joke backfires, perhaps, or a confidence is given away. A cloud descends, and everyone feels awkward and embarrassed.

I’m not suggesting that Jesus said the wrong thing, but it must have been a bit like that as he celebrated Passover with his disciples. This meal, remembering the escape of the people of Israel from Egypt under Moses, was a sacred, solemn event. But it was joyful too, because it reminded the Jews that their God was a powerful and just God, and so it gave them hope that as he had delivered them from slavery in the past, so he would also in the future.

Imagine, then, the moment when, with the meal under way, Jesus spoke with a brutal plainness: “Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me”. Can you hear the sudden silence? I picture every face fixed on him, perhaps one or two hands frozen in mid-air between mouth and table: sheer shock and disbelief. What did he say? What did he say?

No wonder, as Matthew tells us, that “they were very sad and began to say to him one after another, ‘Surely you don’t mean me, Lord?’”

Translated literally, their words were “Not I am, Lord?”, but I suspect that “Surely not me, Lord?” would be pretty good; or “You don’t mean me, Lord, do you?” Whatever, what strikes me is that the disciples were open to the possibility that it could be them - perhaps they had learned the lesson of Simon Peter’s rash bravado (Matthew 16:21-23).

The lesson for us is clear: never slip into complacency; never assume that we could never fall. And, by the same token, don’t be too hard on those who do fall; we don’t know what pressures they are under.

Paul, though writing to the church in Corinth in a different context, puts it beautifully: “So, if you think you are standing firm, be careful that you don’t fall!” (1 Corinthians 10:12).

I wonder if anyone reading this is too sure of yourself? or too ready to look down your nose at others?

And then it’s Judas’ turn (verse 25). His words are the same, “Not I am…?” Except that they’re not quite the same… his final word is not “Lord” but “Rabbi”. It’s difficult not to feel that this is significant. To call Jesus “Lord”, as the other eleven did, is to recognise his divine authority, and to declare your allegiance to him. But anyone, disciple or not, who simply wanted to show him respect might call him ”Rabbi”, teacher.

Was this a sign that Judas’ faith in Jesus had ebbed right away?

We tend to think “traitor” the moment we think of Judas. But we need to remind ourselves that there was a time not so long before when he had the same zeal and enthusiasm as the others: he had heard Jesus preaching! he had seen him healing the sick! he was there when Jesus called Lazarus out of the tomb! He was trusted enough to be appointed the disciples’ “treasurer” (John 13:29).

Yet now, for money, he plans to hand Jesus over to the Roman soldiers.

Who can guess what went on in Judas’ mind leading up to these sad events? Nobody, of course. But we can benefit from his fall by asking ourselves entirely seriously the same question: “Surely you don’t mean me, Lord?” Lord, give us the humility to recognise our own frailty!

Why was Jesus so gentle with Peter and so hard on Judas?

Well, was he in fact so hard on Judas?

The signs are that right to the end he held open the door through which Judas could have returned into the fold. He knew what he was planning to do, but still he welcomed him to the Passover meal. When Judas asked him that key question (verse 25) he gave the rather odd reply “You have said so”, not “Yes, I’m afraid you are the one”, as if inviting him to unsay what he had said.

And when the soldiers came for Jesus in Gethsemane and Judas greeted him with a kiss(!) he called him “friend” and told him to “do what you came for” - as if to say, “Well, if you really are sure you want to go through with this, you’d better get on with it”.

Judas betrayed Jesus, he didn’t simply collapse, like Peter, in a moment of panic and fear (Matthew 26:69-75). To betray someone requires cold planning and deliberate intent – Judas must have taken time and trouble to visit the chief priests in order to bargain with them (Matthew 26:14-16). Oh the sheer sadness!

We know that later he regretted what he had done (Matthew 27:1-5). But it was too late. Again, Paul can help us here: “Godly sorrow (like Peter’s) brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret, but worldly sorrow (like Judas’) brings death” (2 Corinthians 7:10).

Oh Lord, don’t let it be me!

Father God, thank you for the compassion of Jesus towards those who failed him, whether Peter through weakness and fear, or Judas through calculated betrayal. Lord, I fail him too every day: have mercy upon me, I pray. Amen.