“The night in which He was betrayed,” are the deeply familiar words with which St. Paul begins his relating of the tradition (“that which I have received”) of the Last Supper (1Cor. 11:23). It is a phrase so familiar that its import is quickly overlooked as we leap forward to the words, “This is my body…” but I want to linger over them in this article. When St. Paul recites the tradition which had been handed down to him, he is offering what, for us, is the oldest written account of the event. The gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke, who also record the event (in extremely similar words), are, it is thought, written later than St. Paul’s letter. That letter dates to the early 50s A.D., no more than 20 years after the event itself. St. Paul’s account of the Supper itself (usually called the “Institution Narrative”) tracks along in nearly identical words to the gospel writers’ versions. It is a demonstration that the gospels themselves were long part of the recited, oral tradition of the Church (and called “tradition” by St. Paul). St. Paul is not a “developer” of Christian thought – but a transmitter of Christian teaching.
It is of interest to me that the tradition insists that the night itself be described as the one “in which He was betrayed.” That simple phrase gathers the whole of the story of Judas into itself and insists that it be remembered. St. John’s gospel account does not include an institution narrative, giving us, instead, the account of Christ washing the disciples’ feet. However, he is quite detailed in his description of Judas’ betrayal, including making it clear that the issue involved was money.
As decisively as the Eucharist is the sacrament of everlasting life, the revelation of our salvation and a participation in the Body and Blood of God, so, too, it comes with the reminder that it happened in the context of our sin. That Judas not only betrayed Christ, but sold Him out, seems particularly noteworthy in our times of material affluence.
However, the transmission of the tradition takes on a different hue in the liturgical life of the Orthodox Church. In St. John Chrysostom’s Liturgy we hear:
…who when He had come and had fulfilled all the dispensation for us, in the night in which He was given up [betrayed]— or rather, gave Himself up for the life of the world — took bread in His holy, pure, and blameless hands…
The evil which Judas sought to do (even as we seek to do) is swallowed up by the providence of the good will of God. This is expressed yet more clearly in St. Basil’s Liturgy:
For when He was about to go forth to His voluntary, ever memorable, and life-giving death, on the night on which He was delivered up for the life of the world, He took bread in His holy and pure hands, and presenting it to You, God and Father, and offering thanks, blessing, sanctifying, and breaking it:
There is no tragedy of mistaken intentions, no triumph of greed over love. It is as Christ had said earlier in the Garden:
“Now is my soul troubled; and what shall I say? Father, save me from this hour: but for this cause came I unto this hour.” (Jn. 12:27)
The Cross reveals God in His eternity. In Luke’s gospel, we hear the same theme:
“But I have a baptism to be baptized with, and how distressed I am till it is accomplished!” (Lk. 12:50)
We do well to remember that the Eucharist is more than sacred food – it is the revelation and participation of our life in Christ. His life is our life – and, as this is so, our lives track along in His footsteps. The arc of the Christian life tends towards the Cross – always and everywhere. “Whoever would be my disciple, let him take up his cross…” And just as our life tends towards the Cross, so our lives are the subjects of betrayal.
“For Your sake we are killed all day long; We are accounted as sheep for the slaughter.”(Ro 8:36)
Our trajectory towards the Cross is not against our will, just as Christ’s own sacrifice was “voluntary.” I have long appreciated the phrase in Thomas Cranmer’s eucharistic prayer (Anglican) in which, drawing from Romans 12:1, he says:
“And here we offer and present unto thee, O Lord, ourselves, our souls and bodies, to be a reasonable, holy, and living sacrifice unto thee…”
It is a phrase which has passed into Orthodox usage in the so-called Liturgy of St. Tikhon, authorized for use in the Western Rite Orthodox vicariate.
“The night in which He was betrayed” is also the night in which we are betrayed, or rather, the night in which we, together with Him, voluntarily offer ourselves up for the life of the world. And that night is every moment of every day as the broken and sinful world presents itself to us hungry, thirsty, naked, sick, and in prison. It even invites us to recognize those broken and injured wounds within ourselves that are aching for some balm of healing and mercy.
In that night – remember us, O Lord, in your kingdom!
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