In those days Peter stood up among the believers (together the crowd numbered about one hundred twenty persons) and said, “Friends, the scripture had to be fulfilled, which the Holy Spirit through David foretold concerning Judas, who became a guide for those who arrested Jesus—for he was numbered among us and was allotted his share in this ministry.”
So one of the men who have accompanied us during all the time that the Lord Jesus went in and out among us, beginning from the baptism of John until the day when he was taken up from us—one of these must become a witness with us to his resurrection.”
So they proposed two, Joseph called Barsabbas, who was also known as Justus, and Matthias [Acts 1:15-17, 21-23].
There was an elephant in the Upper Room. The original Twelve—including Judas—had all been chosen by Jesus. They had shared meals with each other, traveled through a broad swath of Palestine together, and had even learned to pray together. Jesus had trusted Judas with the group’s small treasury. If Jesus was the Messiah—and his resurrection and ascension certainly proved that He was—why hadn’t He seen through Judas’ facade? Indeed, why hadn’t any of the other disciples seen the real man in Judas?
There is, of course, considerable evidence that Jesus knew of Judas’ treachery well before the actual betrayal. John, the Gospel writer points out that Jesus “knew from the first … who was the one that would betray him” [John 6:64]. That still begs the question: Why did Jesus allow things to progress through Judas?
We get an explanation of sorts as we encounter the first lesson appointed for this Sunday, Acts 1:15-17, 21-26 [the Seventh Sunday of Easter, RCL, Year B]. Peter steps forward. He always does. He offers words that we sometimes repeat when we wish to explain away calamity or tragedy: “It was all part of God’s plan” [Acts 1:16]. Peter, loosely quoting from what we call Psalm 69:25, posits that a replacement for Judas must be found. I’ll have to say that I’ve scoured the Psalm and can’t see direct support for Peter’s point. That reference is found in Psalm 109:8, but Peter is dragging that verse, kicking and screaming, well away from its original context.
A second question is begged: Why must Judas be replaced at all? Why not just proceed with 11? Some of my old margin notes on this passage stress that for Peter and the others, the temporarily broken apostolic circle must be restored. The 12 represent God’s people, configured into the 12 tribes of Israel. Replacing Judas is vital, therefore, if there is to be a restoration of the Jerusalem congregation.
And so, according to the Acts narrative, the group proposes two names from the larger group of about 120 followers. The two share the primary qualification demanded by Peter: they have been present during the entire three-year ministry of Jesus—from John’s baptism all the way to the Ascension. The first, Joseph, called Barsabbas, is also known as Justus. The second candidate is Matthias. The 11 pray for guidance, then cast lots. The lot falls on Matthias. And so, Matthias becomes Judas’ replacement.
Or did he? Before I turn to that issue, let me mention another.
Do you find it interesting that in the Acts narrative, we know more about the candidate who isn’t chosen to replace Judas? We’re supplied with three separate datapoints about Joseph. We’re given one about “the winner,” Matthias. Why give such detail regarding someone who is on the stage for 11 seconds—or was it 12—and then is gone?
Might it be that after being overlooked, Joseph didn’t just melt into the woodwork? New Testament scholars have posited that Luke mentions these additional facts about Joseph because, in spite of his not being chosen as the replacement for Judas, he still became well-known. That the lot fell on another apparently did not quench his desire to serve his Lord.
According to St. John Chrysostom, Archbishop of Constantinople [died 407 AD], and other patristic scholars [e.g., Eusebius], after Joseph was “passed over,” he embarked on an evangelical campaign. Eventually Joseph would become the Bishop of Eleutheropolis, a rather humble village whose inhabitants, including its bishop, were massacred in 68 A.D. He is venerated as Saint Justus of Eleutheropolis.
Despite “winning,” Matthias is never mentioned again in scripture. To be sure, stories have circulated over the years about Matthias. He may have gone to Ethiopia to spread the Gospel. Alternatively, he may have been stoned in Jerusalem. Or, as Hippolytus of Rome would later write, Matthias merely died of old age in Jerusalem.
You’re thinking: “Tom, you’re telling me all this because?”
I’m telling you this because there is another figure who is about to be launched onto the scene. This figure does not meet the criteria demanded by Peter. This figure was not present from the beginning to the end—from Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan until His Ascension. In fact, after the Ascension, and particularly after the Pentecost experience [Acts 2], this figure was a powerful opponent of those who were on “the Way”—Christians weren’t called “Christians” until later. This figure watched over the cloaks of the men as they stoned Steven to death. This figure’s name is Saul.
At the risk of offending some of my episcopal friends [Roman Catholics, Eastern Orthodox, Episcopalians, Anglicans, some Lutherans—have I left anyone out?], who see Jesus disseminating the Gospel message to the 12 (minus Judas, but plus Matthias), other forces also appear to be at work.
Prior to Pentecost [Acts 2], the number of followers was quite modest. Their belief structure was essentially monolithic. They were all Jewish. Jews longed for a messianic figure. Jews thought that such a figure was prophesied in Holy Scripture. Jews longed for a reestablishment of the throne of David. Prior to Pentecost, the “church” is inwardly focused.
With the coming of Holy Spirit at Pentecost, things radically change. Suddenly, some of the wonderfully wild ideas that Jesus talked about seem not only possible; they seem immanent. The Kingdom of God is only concerned about the restoration of the house of Israel only in so far as that restoration is part of a much larger phenomenon: God desires a restoration of all Creation. Jerusalem Jews will receive Holy Spirit, but not exclusively so. Samaritans, Greeks, Ethiopian eunuchs, later even Romans will be anointed by and through the Trinity’s powerful Spirit.
And so, in the Acts 1 story, the lot falls upon Matthias. While the choice of Matthias closes the apostolic circle, the unbridled, uncontrollable, unfathomable Holy Spirit is out there making choices of Its own.
Peter was right about at least one thing, however. All of this—including the later encounter between Christ and a man named Saul, as the mortal is traveling to Damascus to persecute Jews—was/is part of God’s overarching, powerful, beautiful plan. Had there been no betrayal, no rigged trial, no walk along the Via Dolorosa, no cross, no nails or crown of thorns, no murderous death, there would have been no resurrection. There would be no Church.
Christ came as the Messiah prophesied by the Prophets, but He came to do more than reestablish Israel. He came to reclaim Creation, to save not only the children of Abraham and Sarah, but the children of all other fathers and mothers as well. To reach these outsiders, Holy Spirit needed an outsider—someone who was part of the inner circle—to replace Judas. Holy Spirit needed—and chose—Saul, a/k/a Paul. Thanks be to God!
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