But Jesus said, “Let her alone; why do you trouble her? She has performed a good service for me. For you always have the poor with you, and you can show kindness to them whenever you wish; but you will not always have me. She has done what she could; she has anointed my body beforehand for its burial...Then Judas Iscariot, who was one of the twelve, went to the chief priests in order to betray him to them.
Mark 14: 6-8, 10 (NRSV)
One of the many films I love in director Alfred Hitchcock’s body of work is the 1950 suspense flick Stage Fright, starring Jane Wyman, Marlene Dietrich, and Richard Todd. Without giving away too much, I will note that, one of the most cunning parts of the film is that, early on, there is a flashback sequence featuring some details that will later on prove to be false. Consequently, the audience, like Jane Wyman’s protagonist, spends most of the movie operating on incorrect assumptions.
When the film first premiered, this bit of cinematic chicanery reportedly left many moviegoers furious. They felt betrayed! Hitchcock had provided them the all-important evidence of their own eyes and then proceeded to dupe them with it. That’s not how the story was supposed to go!
We invest a great deal of our faith and hope in supposed to be, don’t we?
When Jesus made the “triumphal entry” into Jerusalem, people rejoiced. They waved and welcomed him as loudly as they could. Here, at last, was the Deliverer that was supposed to come: the One meant to free them from oppression and once again establish them as the nation they were always meant to be.
But as one of the inner circle, Judas Iscariot knew Jesus was not following the deliverance plan like He was supposed to. Before entering Jerusalem, Mark’s Gospel tells us a woman approached Jesus and anointed Him with costly ointment. When bystanders criticized this extravagance, Jesus defended her with the enigmatic announcement that her act of service had prepared Him for burial. After hearing numerous allusions to suffering and death in recent days, this episode seemed to be the last straw for Judas. He fled to the chief priests and conspired to hand Jesus over to them.
Jesus had not turned out to be the Messiah Judas expected, so he resolved to do something about it. Did he feel duped and betrayed by his teacher and friend, so he decided to get rid of him? Or did he hope an arrest would compel Jesus to take up arms and become the general or king he was supposed to be? Whatever the motivation, Judas took matters into his own hands.
We often long to do that too, don’t we?
Over the past several weeks, most of us have probably lamented the fact that nothing is as it should be. We should be getting ready to attend church and large dinners for Easter Sunday. Our children should be in school. Business should still be booming. We ought to be able to go wherever we please whenever we please. Some part of us wants to deny the gravity of the situation and just go on living our lives the way we want to. Recent events feel like a betrayal of our expectations, and we want to do something about it.
Perhaps one of the most frustrating things about being a disappointed moviegoer is that you really can’t do anything about your disappointment. The narrative has already been written. But what Stage Fright’s critical audience members failed to appreciate is the valuable lesson this film and all good mystery and suspense stories teach: things are not always what they seem. That is a lesson with universal applicability.
At some critical juncture, we all have to confront life’s givens, and ask difficult questions. What is truth and what is falsehood? What is essential and what is nonessential? Who is worth protecting? What price do we put on health and safety? How do we define wellbeing as a society, family, or individuals?
We can only surmise that, to Judas Iscariot, the wellbeing of his people and himself depended on material, political, and economic factors. Therein lay his longing for deliverance from earthly oppression.
But Jesus didn’t betray Judas’s expectations; he exceeded them. This Messiah was so much more than he seemed. Yes, he cared about physical and material needs, but not just for one particular sect or interest group. He fed the masses. He brought healing to outcasts, women, traitors, and strangers. And his deliverance was ultimate. He liberated the soul from the oppression of narrow self-interest and the fear of not having or being enough. He liberated the heart to an abundant life of generosity and love. Then he finalized all of this through his sacrifice and through the tragedy of the crucifixion.
And despite the tragedy of the present moment—the suffering, the exhaustion, the anxiety, and the uncertainty—there is so much more going on. There are acts of generosity such as people donating goods and delivering food where they are most needed. People are rediscovering and affirming the importance of human connection and finding creative ways to maintain it. People are willingly giving up some of their freedom of movement to protect their families and neighbors. God is at work here, calling us to be a part of a larger story, and every day is a new opportunity to respond.
Prayer:
Almighty God, you have spun a sacred suspense story full of unexpected twists and reversals. The King of kings was born in obscurity. He taught the poor are blessed, the first are last, and enemies are to be treated with love. And ultimately, he conquered sin by his death. Help us to define our reality by your standards, until every supposed to be is driven by generosity and love. In the name of your Son, who loved us and gave himself for us. Amen.
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