One of the most painful realities of leadership, (yes, even Christian leadership), is that betrayal will happen. At some time. On some scale. At the hands of someone we trusted. At the hands of someone with whom we shared life and love and ministry.
John 6 records Jesus’ lengthy and rich “I am the Bread of Life” discourse. After which many of his followers, on the basis of being offended by what sounded like cannibalism, left him in the dust.
Bread and betrayal.
Jesus responds to the mass Exodus by giving the Twelve an out as well, but they turn him down. To which Jesus responds with a shocking pair of statements:
“Have I not chosen you, the Twelve? Yet one of you is a devil!”
“Devil” being not a red imp with a pitch fork, but the Greek word for “accuser.” At which point John throws in some no-so-subtle foreshadowing: Judas Iscariot would betray Jesus. Fast-forward to chapter 13 where John brings up bread again: the Passover. What would become known as the Last Supper. Jesus reiterates, this time more clearly, that one of the Twelve would betray him. When asked which of them it might be, Jesus replies:
“It is the one whom I will give this piece of bread when I have dipped it in the dish.”
He then dips and hands it to Judas. John then writes that “as soon as Judas took the bread, Satan entered into him.” “Satan,” again, not being a red imp with a pitch fork, but the Hebrew word for “accuser.” Jesus then releases Judas to go and do his thing.
Bread and betrayal.
What’s remarkable to me in this pair of narratives is that Jesus never holds back. He does not, even in the midst of being forsaken and betrayed, withdraw his offer of bread: his very body. He still offers his very self, come what may. He graciously allows others to do their worst.
As leaders, there will at some point be a choice between self-protection and vulnerability. And perhaps, at some point, taking a cue from Jesus himself, the best option is open-handed generosity.
