Just before Easter we spent a few days in Valencia, where we saw, what turns out to be, a copy of Caravaggio’s painting of the Taking of Christ. I love Caravaggio and I found the painting very moving.
What takes the attention immediately is the crowded nature of the picture. Judas is holding Jesus and leaning forward to kiss him. At the same time, one of the soldiers is laying his hand on Christ. The effect, I found, was to make the scene far more visceral than I had ever imagined. Perhaps because we know the way the story goes, the effect of Judas’ betrayal is minimised. It doesn’t seem to compare, in terms of pain, with the ordeal that lies ahead. However, betrayal, especially by one of those closest to us, is a considerable emotional pain, for some it leads to a bitterness that can destroy their lives.
When I hear of the plan to send asylum seekers to Rwanda, or hear of using The Navy to deter them from trying to cross the Channel, I feel betrayed on behalf of those who believe they are escaping persecution from injustice and violence. People who believed that a wealthy civilised nation, indeed, for many, one that had been The Motherland, would be their friend in their hour of need. The bitter truth is that the arm of friendship drawing them into a kiss of welcome is overtaken by the arm of the soldier who leads them to banishment or the arm of the sailor who turns them back from the shore.
Betrayed Lord, be with those most of all, who are betrayed by those who have more and care so little.
Wendy Quill
