Wednesday of Holy Week
The Lord GOD has given me the tongue of those who are taught, That I may know how to sustain with words him who is weary. He awakens morning by morning, He awakens my ear to hear as those who are taught. The Lord GOD has opened my ear. I was not rebellious. I have not turned back. I gave my back to those who beat me, And my cheeks to those who plucked off the hair. I didn't hide my face from shame and spitting. For the Lord GOD will help me. Therefore I have not been confounded. Therefore I have set my face like a flint, And I know that I won't be disappointed. He who justifies me is near. Who will bring charges against me? Let us stand up together. Who is my adversary? Let him come near to me. Behold, the Lord GOD will help me! Who is he who will condemn me? Behold, they will all grow old like a garment. The moths will eat them up.
I have become a stranger to my brothers, An alien to my mother's children. For the zeal of your house consumes me. The reproaches of those who reproach you have fallen on me. When I wept and I fasted, That was to my reproach.
They also gave me poison for my food. In my thirst, they gave me vinegar to drink. Let their table before them become a snare. May it become a retribution and a trap.
Then 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 deliver him to you?" So they weighed out for him thirty pieces of silver. From that time he sought opportunity to betray him.
Now on the first day of unleavened bread, the disciples came to Jesus, saying to him, "Where do you want us to prepare for you to eat the Passover?"
He said, "Go into the city to a certain person, and tell him, 'The Teacher says, "My time is at hand. I will keep the Passover at your house with my disciples."'"
The disciples did as Jesus commanded them, and they prepared the Passover.
Now when evening had come, he was reclining at the table with the twelve disciples. As they were eating, he said, "Most certainly I tell you that one of you will betray me."
They were exceedingly sorrowful, and each began to ask him, "It isn't me, is it, Lord?"
He answered, "He who dipped his hand with me in the dish will betray me. The Son of Man goes even as it is written of him, but woe to that man through whom the Son of Man is betrayed! It would be better for that man if he had not been born."
Judas, who betrayed him, answered, "It isn't me, is it, Rabbi?"
He said to him, "You said it."
The shadow of betrayal falls across these readings, but notice how differently each figure responds to suffering. Isaiah's servant accepts persecution with unwavering trust, setting his face "like flint" because he knows God will vindicate him. The psalmist cries out in anguish, feeling abandoned even by family. And Judas? He chooses thirty pieces of silver over loyalty.
What strikes us here is how betrayal works both ways. Judas betrays Jesus, yes, but he also betrays himself - trading away his own integrity for money. There's something chilling about his final question: "It isn't me, is it, Rabbi?" Even in the moment of exposure, he maintains the pretense.
This tension between loyalty and self-interest plays out in our own lives more often than we'd like to admit. Consider how we navigate workplace politics, family conflicts, or social pressures. How often do we find ourselves choosing the easier path over the faithful one? Not necessarily for thirty pieces of silver, but perhaps for approval, security, or simply to avoid discomfort.
The servant in Isaiah shows us another way. He doesn't hide from shame or turn back from his calling, even when it costs him dearly. There's a profound freedom in this kind of surrender - the freedom that comes from knowing our ultimate security rests in God, not in human approval or material gain.
What emerges from these readings is an invitation to examine our own loyalties. Where do we place our trust when the stakes get high? The movement from Judas to the suffering servant represents the choice we face daily: Will we protect ourselves at any cost, or will we trust that God's love is strong enough to hold us through whatever comes?
Where in your life are you tempted to choose security over faithfulness? What would it look like to set your face "like flint" toward what you know is right?